Harry sighed internally. He then buckled up and started talking. "You see, sir, before I got the Hogwarts letter, I didn't even know I was a wizard or that I had any money. My relatives only told me I was a freak, like my parents, who died in a car accident. Since then, I've learned a bit about my family and my past, but I still feel like I know much less than I should. Besides, I have some concerns about things happening to me at Hogwarts. I was hoping that Gringotts could help me with some of this."
Quickill looked less suspicious now. "I'm not sure that Gringotts has all the information that you want, but whatever information we have, we can't give you unless we get a positive identification. This key," he pointed at Harry's key, now on his desk, "is enough to let you into that low-security vault, but not enough for anything else."
Harry felt confused. "How can I show you my identity? I have no official documents of any kind. Children are usually not supplied with such."
Quickill smiled tightly, not showing his fangs. The child seemed honest and had clearly no idea about how Gringotts functioned. He took a small parchment out of a drawer. "Just put a drop of your blood on the marked area. The parchment will then show us what we need and may also give you some information you lack." He handed it along with a small dagger to the boy.
Harry didn't hesitate. He pricked his thumb with the dagger and let a drop of blood fall on the parchment. He was glad to see the cut seal and heal immediately. By the time he put the dagger down, the parchment started showing various lines and symbols, reminding him of the Marauder map.
Quickill took the parchment and scanned it attentively before speaking, his expression very different. "Lord Potter, now that you are positively identified, we can give you any information that we have concerning you. However, is it wise to talk about such private matters in the presence of a third party?"
Harry wasn't sure what that meant, but a hand-wave towards Hermione made it clearer. He smiled. "The young woman at my side is Miss Hermione Granger, my very close friend and my girlfriend. I have no secrets from her. Actually, I asked her to come with me, as I trust her understanding and her clear thinking more than I trust mine."
Quickill nodded understandingly. "In that case, we shall need a positive identification of her, just the same."
Hermione grimaced when she pricked her thumb, but didn't complain. A moment later, her parchment was scanned by Quickill like Harry's. He then smiled.
"It's evident that you're very close. Interestingly, your very distant ancestors were also close, but we shall leave that for another discussion. Now, what would you like to know, Lord Potter?"
Harry sighed. "I have a lot of questions, yet the first seems to be, why are you calling me Lord Potter? I'm still a child."
The Goblin turned serious. "As the last scion of the Ancient and Noble House of Potter, you should have been instructed about your position since you turned ten, if not earlier, since you were supposed to claim your position as the head of the house, the Lord or the Warlock — these terms are used interchangeably at times — at your twelfth birthday. May I assume that nothing of this has happened?"
It was a very long conversation. Quickill ordered some drinks after an hour and then lunch, while the conversation continued. Shortly before tea time, they had all the main points covered, as far as Harry was concerned. Quickill had another matter that he thought important. "How come nobody healed your scar for more than ten years?"
Harry shrugged. "My aunt had it checked by muggle healers who tried to treat it, if only to make me attract less attention. They failed. Then, at Hogwarts, I was told that my scar was the result of very dark magic and there was no way to heal it."
Quickill looked furious. "That's utter rubbish! Wizards are so narrow-minded! Do you see any scars on my face? I can tell you that I've got more than my share of battle scars of all kinds, yet all were healed within days. Being an old scar and being the result of dark magic, it may take a bit longer than usual — a few hours, or maybe a full day — to heal your scar, but I have no doubt that our healers can do it. Should I set a meeting with them?"
Just the idea of getting rid of his scar was making Harry happy. "Sure! Can't we do it now?"
"They may need some preparations, and it would be polite to give them some time. Can you come tomorrow at ten?"
Harry glanced at Hermione before replying, "It seems to be alright. Do I need to do anything beforehand?"
Quickill smiled. "It would be wise to remove your disguise before meeting them. I'd also suggest a full health scan. We can find and treat any additional health problems you may have, even your eyesight."
Harry smiled. "I'd like that."
He skipped the visit to his trust vault. Quickill had a younger goblin fetch enough money and convert some of it to pounds before they finished their meeting.
With their business at Gringotts finished for the day, Harry invited Hermione to some ice cream at Fortescue. They sat there with their delicious cones, each deep in thought.
"Don't you want to buy some books?" he finally asked.
"Not now. We have so much to think about. Besides, they'll probably not allow me in for your treatment. I could go shopping then. It would keep my mind busy, so I won't be too worried about you."
"But why should you worry?"
Hermione looked into his eyes. "Harry, I've been worrying about you since we became friends, so this is no different. Then, I know nothing about Goblin healing. Are these healers good enough to treat humans? Can they really rid you of your scar? Would they not harm you, even inadvertently? I won't be able to relax until I see you come out of the treatment, feeling no worse than now."
Harry was reminded of the time Hermione was petrified. He remembered staying at her side whenever he could spare a moment, although she was unresponsive. He didn't say anything, though.
He decided to change the subject. "Do you think we have enough information to do something about Dumbledore or Hogwarts?"
Hermione didn't answer immediately. "I'm not sure," she finally said. "We need to think some more about it, write down all that we've learned today, and see what can be done. It also looks like Quickill has some ideas about Dumbledore and the Dursleys. I hope he wouldn't act according to his name, though."
Harry remembered another part of the conversation. "He said something about your ancestry and mine, but didn't elaborate. Do you have any idea what he meant?"
Hermione shook her head. "No, he said we should save it for another meeting. He also said it was evident we were close. How could he know?"
"We were holding hands, weren't we?" he said.
Hermione frowned. "I think he saw something on that parchment. Maybe we should have asked to see them."
Harry shrugged. "They were not in English. I had a glimpse at it before he took it, and I could understand nothing. I couldn't read a single word there."
She sighed. "Oh, well… We've both finished our ice cream. Shouldn't we head home now? We may come another day for our shopping."
Harry was reluctant to take the Knight Bus again. He also felt like he needed some more time to think of all he had learned. Hermione understood his mood. She helped him through the underground, as it was his first time there without an adult, and they then took the suburban train to reach their destination, where a short bus ride brought them to the corner of the street. Throughout their travels, Harry stayed mostly silent, only holding Hermione's hand tightly. She looked worriedly at him but refrained from talking. She also had quite a bit to think of.
They reached the Granger residence minutes before Hermione's parents arrived. Harry was surprised to see that they greeted him just as warmly as they greeted Hermione.
"How was it?" Jean asked.
"Exhausting," Hermione replied.
"Overwhelming," Harry blurted.
"Care to explain?" Jean prompted.
Hermione answered. "We spent most of the day at the bank. It looks like Harry has more money than he could ever dream of and quite a few possessions, as well as very lucrative investments."
Harry didn't feel comfortable hearing this. In a way, he felt like Hermione was bragging about his wealth, or trying to make her parents like him because of it. That was almost as bad as being liked because he was "The Boy Who Lived". He didn't want to believe that was what Hermione intended. He needed to think about it.
"I need the loo," he said and rushed to the toilet.
Hermione looked worriedly after him and frowned. "I think Harry doesn't like me talking about this."
Jean led her to the sofa and sat at her side. "Why do you think so?"
Hermione sighed. "I'm not sure. Something in his eyes, when he said it, or maybe the way he moved, his body language. Harry doesn't like his fame in the Wizarding world and probably feels like this will give him more fame and more people wanting his company for the wrong reasons."
"And what are your reasons?" Jean asked pointedly.
Hermione turned teary. "Mum! You know, I became his friend after he saved me from the troll. His fame didn't mean much to me, as I didn't grow up with all those rubbish Boy Who Lived stories. All I knew was the timid, handsome boy who showed more courage than anybody else, jumping on the back of the troll. As we became closer, I learned more about him, and I started liking him."
"Didn't you know anything about his wealth?"
"Not at first. You saw what he wears, what his relatives are kind enough to give him. I then found the section at the library about old families. There was no explicit mention of each family's wealth, but it was clear that most of those families had once been stinking rich, although some didn't stay that way, like the Weasleys. I thought his family had also lost most of it, although Harry's trust vault seemed to hold much more money than expected, at least when judging by how much he could withdraw each summer."
–..–
Harry spent somewhat longer at the loo than strictly necessary. The silent, secluded room gave him the opportunity to make some order in his jumbled thoughts. Leaving aside Dumbledore and the influence the old man had on his life, Harry found out he was quite rich, on par with Malfoy, probably. While that was welcome news, it took some time to assimilate the new knowledge, and he had not yet come to terms with what that wealth meant for him. He'd also noticed that Hermione wasn't as surprised, as if she expected to hear something like that. It made him think. Was Hermione really his friend, or was she after his money? Despite being young, he wasn't as naive as some thought. Yet, Hermione stood by his side through thick and thin, putting her life in danger for him. That was not something one would have done just for money. Unlike Ron, Hermione had never been jealous of either his fame or his money. He still felt unsure when he came out of the loo and reached the sitting room, overhearing part of the conversation between Hermione and her mother.
"So, what have you read about Harry's family in those books?" Jean asked.
"Quite a bit. I've been planning to take Harry to that section of the library and let him learn about his ancestry, but there was always something more urgent to tackle. Anyhow, his family is quite old, more than a thousand years since the first magical Potter was recognized. His ancestors had always fought for justice and against discrimination. They also seem to have been successful businessmen and politicians, those who chose such careers. Others invented new spells and ways to improve the magical community. It's no wonder that Harry is such a good friend and cares so much. If he only could, he would have helped each and every person who suffers, especially those who are victims of injustice."
"And you're sure that his money has not come into consideration at all?" Jean insisted.
Hermione was almost weeping. "I didn't know about it before today, and I don't really care. I've been his friend when I thought he was penniless. Why should I not stay his friend now? I really like him, Mum."
Harry felt content to hear both, making it clear they only had his interests in mind and not his money. He chose that moment to make some noise as he descended the last stair to join mother and daughter. Hermione looked surprised, and her face reddened, but she smiled at Harry and asked, "Are you alright now?"
He smiled back. "Still need to make some sense of all that we've been told, but I'm fine." He then turned serious. "Have you told your parents about tomorrow?"
The puzzled look on Jean's face was answer enough. "My account manager suggested I have my scar treated by goblin healers, and we set a meeting for tomorrow at ten. He wasn't sure how long that would take."
Dave, who was just listening silently until then, commented, "I can't take you tomorrow. Are you sure you know how to reach London on time?"
Hermione beamed at him. "Dad, Harry took enough money to be able to go there by taxi, if needed, but we may either use the train, the way we returned home today, or even the Knight Bus, in a hurry."
He frowned. "I thought only Harry needed to go."
"I wouldn't like to go there alone for a treatment, and I know Harry wouldn't like it either. Besides, his account manager has some more to tell both of us. He said so today, but we had to handle other stuff first."
Jean stood up. "And even before that, we need some dinner. Go rest for a bit. Dinner will be ready in less than an hour."