Harry Potter and The Other

Arcturus was diligently studying books on etiquette and traditions. He had to admit, he learned a lot of new things for himself. For instance, he found out that the handshake originated from a gesture of peaceful intent between unfamiliar men, who offered each other their unarmed right hand as a sign of trust. Offering a handshake to a woman, therefore, was considered a serious insult. A woman, on the other hand, was supposed to offer her hand only for a kiss, otherwise a bow or verbal greeting was appropriate.

A true gentleman was not supposed to flick ash from his cigar—this was considered a sign of poor manners. Satin lapels on tuxedos were specifically designed so that freely falling ash would easily slide off. However, smoking tobacco was strictly a Muggle habit—far more harmful to wizards than alcohol, as it destroyed not the physical body but the magical one. A wizard who smoked was practically on the verge of becoming a Squib, and Arcturus couldn't recall anyone smoking around him.

Arcturus studied etiquette and often thought about Daphne. Elegant, cultured, well-mannered, and effortlessly engaging in light conversation. Internally shuddering, he recalled their interactions word for word, from start to finish, and sighed with relief. He hadn't done anything inappropriate, nor had Daphne given him any reason to. He was lucky.

Gryffindor girls were different. The most polite among them was Hermione, who was the first to offer her hand for a handshake. That was tolerable, especially considering Angelina Johnson's unforgettable habit of slapping guys on the shoulder in greeting with all her might. Harry's slender shoulders were constantly bruised from Angelina's enthusiastic greetings. Lavender always giggled coquettishly, and Parvati followed suit. Katie Bell had the habit of sticking her tongue out at people for no reason at all—according to a modern etiquette treatise, this originally stemmed from the sexual behavior of female monkeys and had lingered in women's instincts. Luna, on the other hand, seemed unaware that greetings were expected at all.

Arcturus barely interacted with the other female students, so he had no one from whom to learn proper manners. Now, he was diligently memorizing standard phrases and actions for greetings and farewells, finally realizing that these simple rules made communication within his social circle much easier—and his circle would inevitably change, with Gryffindor habits being absolutely unacceptable.

Yes, he intended to continue getting to know Daphne, especially since she had hinted at wanting to get closer by giving him her surname and owl address before parting. Now he had someone to write to, which meant he really did need a new owl.

And so, Arcturus headed back to Diagon Alley for some shopping. While walking from the Leaky Cauldron to the Magical Menagerie, he was overtaken by a large, angry owl, with a letter tied to its leg. Right on the street, Arcturus broke the seal on the scroll and read the letter written on parchment with a Gringotts stamp.

"Dear Mr. Travers-Black, Gringotts Bank invites you to discuss your financial matters at your convenience. Your financial trustee, Goldgrabber."

Now was as good a time as any, so Arcturus postponed buying an owl and headed to Gringotts. If the goblins had wanted to turn him over to the authorities for the robbery, they would have tried earlier. This summons was likely just as stated in the letter. Even if it was about the robbery, hiding was useless, and he didn't want to make matters worse.

At the bank, he was met not with courtesy but with neutrality. Apparently, the robbery case was handled by specific goblins, and the others did not interfere. The goblin receptionist accepted the letter, nodded to himself, and led Arcturus to a visitor's office. He offered Arcturus a chair, then left and soon returned with another goblin.

"Hello, Mr. Travers-Black," the goblin greeted him, unaware of Arcturus' face, as the receptionist had provided the visitor's name. "I am Goldgrabber, your financial trustee."

"Hello, Mr. Goldgrabber. I received your letter, and here I am."

"We're pleased that you found time to visit our bank so quickly."

"The owl found me in Diagon Alley, and I wasn't occupied with anything important anyway," Arcturus explained. The goblin nodded, accepting the explanation.

"Mr. Travers-Black, we have a long discussion ahead of us. If you're in a hurry, we should reschedule. Such matters shouldn't be handled in haste."

"I'm not in a hurry, Mr. Goldgrabber. I'm ready to listen carefully." Kreacher had already explained to Arcturus that, when dealing with Gringotts goblins, it was best not to overstep or say anything unnecessary. They would say what was needed.

"Let's begin with what we know about you. Specifically, who you were not so long ago." Goldgrabber paused, giving Arcturus time to process the statement while watching his reaction closely.

Arcturus understood the goblin's hint and grew wary. Remembering Kreacher's advice, he refrained from exclaiming, "So, you know that all these years I was Harry Potter?!"

"Could you be more specific?" he said instead.

Goldgrabber bared his teeth slightly, a gesture that passed for an approving smile.

"We have our own methods of tracking clients, very reliable ones, otherwise we wouldn't be able to offer the guarantees outlined in our banking agreements. Let's say a client is believed to be dead but continues to use our bank. Of course, we must have a way to verify whether it's truly that client."

"So, you know which of your clients are alive and which are dead," Arcturus concluded.

"Precisely."

"Aren't you required to report that to the law enforcement department?"

"Mr. Travers-Black, we are not British citizens. We are an independent people, and we pay Britain for a license to operate a branch of the bank. As long as our internal interests aren't affected, your affairs are of no concern to us. Goblins don't play human games; they manage human money and earn from it."

"I see," Arcturus muttered. "Some people deceive others, but that doesn't concern you at all."

"And why should it? Money is the same for everyone. We knew from the beginning that the real Harry Potter was replaced with you when he was one and a half years old. Which one of you is the Boy Who Lived doesn't matter much to most Britons. Some people are just handling their small dark affairs, though on a global scale, it's a storm in a teacup."

Arcturus nodded his head in confirmation of his thoughts. Ten years of torment with the Dursleys, Voldemort hunting him, the annual dangers that Dumbledore skillfully pushed him into, and finally their grand betrayal — on a global scale, it was less than a storm in a drop of water. It was entirely his personal affliction.

"Fine. You know that I was Harry Potter. You know that Dumbledore, Sirius, my fake parents with their son were alive. You call me Travers-Black — so you know something about my real parents, right?"

"Only what pertains to finances, inheritance, and titles. Personal details — where and how it happened — we don't know, and we don't need to."

"Can you tell me what you do know?"

"Yes, I invited you here for that reason as well. Last year, you came of age and received our notification that you inherited the title and estate of the Black family..."

"I received nothing," Arcturus hastily said. "Dumbledore told me about it. He said I inherited the Black fortune through my godfather's will."

"So that's how it is… Mr. Travers-Black, your so-called godfather was disowned from the family and therefore could not bequeath you what didn't belong to him. You inherited the Black fortune by the right of blood and magic. If you hadn't existed, Bellatrix Lestrange would have inherited, but the family magic chose you because Mrs. Lestrange had transferred into another family. In fact, you are Sirius Black's illegitimate son."

"What?!" Arcturus muttered in endless astonishment.

"We don't know how exactly, but ever since your disguise was lifted, our tapestries show this exact relationship. You can check your family tapestry, I'm sure you have it."

"Did you know this when I was one and a half years old?"

"No, we only learned of this recently. Until young Potter was swapped with you, we had no reason to be interested in you, and the swap concealed this connection, replacing it with the Potter lineage. Until recently, we only knew that you were someone else's child. We don't know how, but you were born on the same day as the real Harry Potter."

Arcturus recalled an overheard conversation and guessed how it might have happened. He didn't, of course, share his suspicion with the goblin.

"Then why am I also a Travers?"

"Joshua Travers married your mother and adopted you. You are his adopted son and have the right to his surname."

"Tell me, is he still alive?"

"Yes. But your mother, unfortunately, has long passed," the goblin said "unfortunately" with an indifferent tone, barely disguising that he was just using a customary phrase. "So now you are the head of the Black family and the heir to the Travers family. If your adoptive father has biological children, they will have priority over you in inheritance."

"So, who am I then, Black or Travers?"

"You can present yourself under either of these surnames, or even both. In documents, you must be referred to by the double surname, and in family rituals, by the surname of the family associated with the ritual. Now that we've sorted out your origin, let's move on to your finances."

Goldgrabber said the last word with satisfaction and looked expectantly at Arcturus.

"I'm listening," he said.

"Naturally, we serve all our clients equally," the goblin continued, as if he had expected no other response. "But beyond this equal service, we categorize clients as unpromising and promising. We have yet to categorize you, Mr. Travers-Black, as unpromising, and we hope to mark you as promising."

Goldgrabber again looked expectantly at Arcturus, and he realized that a vague answer wouldn't suffice now.

"And what do you expect of me to become your promising client?"

"You already meet the initial requirements, Mr. Travers-Black. You possess sufficient capital and show enough prudence in this conversation."

Arcturus merely smirked to himself. By his current judgment, he had been imprudent for too long, and it had ended badly for him. Or was it not too late to change everything for the better?

"Since you mentioned initial requirements, are there additional ones?" it seemed he would have to offer compensation for his intrusion into the bank.

"Yes, of course. An ideal client for us is one who also seeks to preserve and increase their wealth. We don't require them to understand banking — that's our job, and from the client, it's enough if they don't interfere. We need trust in our work and permission to invest their money at our discretion. We work for a percentage of the client's profit and are deeply invested in ensuring their capital generates it."

"I see. Don't squander, don't make financial mistakes, don't meddle in your business, in which I am not knowledgeable, and give you full control over my finances. In return, you will ensure that my funds bring the highest profit. To me and, consequently, to you. Did I understand you correctly?"

"Absolutely. It's much easier for us to work when the client doesn't interfere in our financial decisions. Unfortunately, we have quite a few clients who initially know better how to manage their money, and then blame us for the losses."

"I have no idea how to handle large sums of money, so I fully trust your professional expertise. I will have expenses, but I don't plan to waste money."

"Excellent, then we will draw up the appropriate contract. As a sign of our goodwill, you need not worry about the small incident that damaged our bank."

"But I wouldn't want you to suffer losses because of me..."

"We have not incurred any losses, Mr. Travers-Black. You're still too young to bear responsibility for your actions alone, so the people who placed you in that situation have paid for it. As for your assets, you not only have the Black family fortune, but also the "Defeater of Voldemort" fund, established by the Ministry at the end of the First Wizarding War. It's a huge sum of money, Mr. Travers-Black."

"I didn't even know about this fund."

"I have no doubt that they intended to divide it without you, but goblins uphold the interests of their clients. It was at our insistence that the account was opened in the name of the "Defeater of Voldemort," not Harry Potter or the Boy Who Lived. The Minister was unaware of the machination and agreed to it. Now, let's draw up the contract and determine the free amount we will keep for your expenses. By the way, buy a wallet from us that's linked to the client and allows you not to carry coins with you."

Half an hour later, the contract was drawn up, and the wallet was purchased. After Gringotts, Arcturus went to a magical creatures shop and bought a postal owl. It turned out to be a male tawny owl, which Arcturus named Herodotus. He didn't remember who Herodotus was and made a mental note to find out soon in case Daphne asked.

At home, he spent a long time thinking about how to address her in the letter. "Dear" or "darling" was too intimate, "respected" was too formal. He eventually settled on the latter and wrote:

"Respected Daphne, I would be happy to hear from you when and where the weather will be good. Sincerely yours, Arcturus."