Chapter 11: HD-10
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, which is owned by JK Rowling, nor do I own Marvel Comics. I also lay no claim to the characters of Harry Potter, Victor Von Doom, or any other character I have used in my fic, except for the completely OC characters I introduce.
This is a work of fanfiction, not made for earning money, but just to satisfy my hobby of writing. There is also no guarantee that I will finish this work of fanfiction, so keep that in mind before taking a look inside.
Yours faithfully, HelloDarkness07.
—
(Rufus Scrimgeour POV)
Rufus Scrimgeour is a dour man to anyone who doesn't know him. But to those that have spent more than a few minutes with him, Rufus is an honest, hard working Auror, with a mind sharper than Goblin Silver, and paranoia comparable to the Mad Eye himself.
Or so he has heard people say, not that he believes himself to be that paranoid. Yet.
Over his decade long career, Rufus had proved his intelligence, and his skills at catching Dark Wizards, thieves, Dark Creatures, and a variety of other criminals, becoming the Head Auror of the Auror Office, a subdivision under the DMLE, over a dozen more experienced Aurors.
And being the Head Auror, Rufus Scrimgeour is sometimes faced with difficult choices.
When Harry Potter was first reported to be squatting in his parents' house in Godric's Hollow, reported by the most skilled Auror in the Office, Mad Eye Moody, in fact, Rufus had done his due diligence and sent a team of Aurors to investigate further.
Moody had suggested otherwise, but Rules are Rules, and following up on a case is something he always believed in, no matter the situation.
Plus, his parents' house or not, legally, at that moment, the house is a Ministry property, and under their protection. They cannot just let someone squat on Ministry property.
When the first team failed to suss out a single thing about the new Ward protecting the Potter Cottage, Rufus had sent a team that specializes in taking down Wards.
Their reports made him even warier. Harry Potter had diffused the Ward the Ministry of Magic had put up almost 9 years ago, stopping people from entering the house, without them detecting anything wrong with it. He had then replaced said Ward with another one of his own making, that not only prevented everyone from getting in, it also absorbed any offensive spell cast at it. Including Scrying spells, that barely one in 25 Aurors can competently cast.
The only other fact that the last team had managed to sense, was the fact that some sort of Creature magic was used to power the Ward. Whether it was a sacrifice, a willing donation, or even a Familiar lending the Magic, they had no idea.
Everything was worrying, especially since the Ward Caster was a 9 year old child with no Wizarding education.
The fact that they couldn't even identify what creature Harry Potter had used to power the Ward in the two days they had spent on it, made Rufus send in reinforcements. The Ward specialist team, along with a few Unspeakables that specialize in the Arcane.
Coincidentally, or not, the day he sent the Unspeakables to the Potter Cottage, was the day Potter was supposed to meet with his boss, Amelia Bones, the Head of the DMLE.
Potter's supposed skills at Ward creation were already a cause for concern to the Auror Office, and therefore to the Wizarding World at large. His connection to an unknown creature of Magic, the seemingly prodigious intelligence he displayed according to Moody, and his arrogance, was something that just made Rufus's paranoia flare up even more.
'Could it be,' he had asked himself, 'that Lord Voldemort disappeared only to leave a successor? Is that even why Lord Voldemort tried to kill him?'
The questions were piling up, and until the team got back to the Ministry, he wouldn't get the answers he needed. That's if this team succeeds, of course.
So distracted he is by the thoughts of Harry Potter, that when the door to his office blows open, he does not hesitate to bring his wand out and cast a blasting spell at the offender. It is only when the spell is stopped by a shield cast by his enraged superior, that he realises that something is amiss.
"Amelia." He greets, slowly bringing his wand down. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your.. visit?"
Amelia Bones, the head of the DMLE, swipes her wand, slamming the door with a simple banishing spell, and yells, "ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR FUCKING MIND, RUFUS!?"
Rufus presses his lips together, and says, "I assure you, I am quite sane. I apologize for the attack but I was distracted when you barged in and my instincts took over."
Amelia leans forward, and angry scowl on her face, and says, "I'm not talking about that. I'm talking about you sending a team to the Potter house without my permission."
Rufus, who is about to deny it all, freezes in his place, a thoughtful look on his face. He slowly says, "Potter is even more skilled than I had believed before, if he can tell you about my actions while being here."
If Harry Potter knows that his house is under surveillance, that he is under surveillance, then the chances of alienating him have increased. Clicking his tongue, Rufus taps his Auror Badge with his wand twice, recalling the team in Godric's Hollow back to the Ministry. It's no use trying now, doing so will only dig his grave deeper.
Amelia snarls angrily, and slamming her hand on tbe table she yells, "It doesn't fucking matter!! It doesn't matter how strong he is, how much he scares you. Until and unless he actually is a suspect of a crime, we do not take any actions against him. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?"
Rufus stares at Amelia for a moment, and then reluctantly, slowly nods. He says, "I understand, Madam Bones."
'Be it on your head then.' he thinks to himself. 'If Harry Potter turns out to be a worse Dark Lord than even You-Know-Who, then I won't be the one responsible for his rise.'
Amelia closes her eyes, taking a few breaths to calm herself. Opening them, she stares at Rufus, and says, "Head Auror Scrimgeour. You will finish this day, hand me all the reports you will receive from the team you've sent to Godric's Hollow without opening a single one of them, and then you will stay home for the next month. Without pay."
She raises her hand when he opens his mouth to argue, and says, "Do not.. interrupt me. You will do all that, and you will write Harry Potter a letter, apologizing for your behaviour. Do that, and I will consider keeping you as the Head Auror once you return. Till then, Auror Thicknesse will be the acting Head Auror."
Rufus scowls at the unfair punishment, and says, "Very well. It will be done, Madam Bones. Anything else?"
Amelia narrows her eyes at him, and Rufus keeps his eyes on her, not at all afraid. He has made a mistake, yes, but that doesn't mean he regrets it. It just means he'll be more careful next time.
She then sighs, and says, "Paranoia is good for our job, Rufus. But if you let it rule your actions, then you will be making enemies for yourself and for the Ministry, left and right.
"Your fears.. are justified. Your actions are not. Harry Potter is dangerous, and once you see my memory of our meeting you'll understand more. He's Magically stronger than some of our Aurors, more skilled than even you and I, and he's a genius to boot. But no matter what, we do not break the laws we are sworn to uphold. We do not deal with Hypothetical threats, we deal with real ones. Take this suspension period as a vacation, Rufus. Go somewhere, sleep on this, and then we'll talk."
Saying that, Amelia Bones exits his office, leaving him to his thoughts. Harry Potter scares Amelia, that much was clear to him. Why though, was something he'll only learn once Amelia hands him her memory of this meeting.
Shaking his head, Rufus Scrimgeour continues with the paperwork, waiting for the reports that will soon come. He will take this vacation, and like Amelia says, he will not take unnecessary actions against Harry Potter.
Soon, he has no doubt, Harry Potter will make a mistake. Harry Potter will commit a crime, of that he is sure. And when he does, Rufus Scrimgeour will be there to catch him.
—
"Sign here, here, and here." The official sitting on the opposite side of the table to me, says, pointing at the places I have to sign.
As soon as I sign the last place, I feel a pulse of Magic emit out of the form, its intent unclear to me, making me frown.
Once I hand him the papers once again, he checks the papers over, and smiling widely, he says, "All this is in order. Congratulations, Mr Potter, your inheritance is now officially in your hands."
I simply stare at him, unimpressed.
The man was very annoying, has been since I came here 10 minutes ago. He's a.. fan of the Boy-Who-Lived, not me, the bloody book series. And thanks to that, he's been brown-nosing all this while, God knows for what.
Alfred Jones, the head of the Department of Inheritance, clears his throat uncomfortably, and says, "Right. Your effects."
Waving his wand, he casts a spell, making a single box float out from behind him. It zooms towards us, stopping in his hands. Jones places the box in front of me, on the table, and places the tip of his wand on the box. A pulse of magic, and whatever locking spell had kept the box from opening is taken off, allowing Jones to open it by one hand.
Lifting the lid off the box, the man slides the box towards me and says, "Here it is. Keys to three Vaults at Gringotts, and the deed to your Cottage at Godric's Hollow."
Three keys, one made of Gold, one of silver, and one of bronze. And all three of them were Enchantmented so intricately, that I cannot make out a single enchantment by my senses, not without studying it far deeply. And I think that even then it won't be easy.
I rove my eyes over the three keys, and ask, "And which Vault has the stuff from my house? The one the Ministry opened for me?"
Jones leans forward and simply points at the silver key. He says, "This is the one the Ministry opened in your name, Mr Potter. Silver keys are reserved for Ministry use, Gold being for Vaults above a certain standard, and Bronze keys being the most used."
Nodding, I take the deed in my hand, and blink when I see my own name in place of the Property owner, and not my father's. Well, now I know what that pulse of Magic was.
I keep the deed, as well as the keys, inside my shirt's expanded pocket, and look up at the man's still smiling face. "Thank you for your help." I say, climbing down the chair.
Jones shakes his head, standing up himself, and says, "No, thank you, Mr Potter. It's because of you that I even have this job, you know. Being a Muggle-born, I would have been dead if you hadn't destroyed You-Know-Who when you did."
I click my tongue out of annoyance, not at all appreciating his words. I'm self-aware enough that I know I appreciate praises, that some might consider my conceited even. But not like this. Not when the thing I am being praised for was not even done by me.
I.. hate it. I hate being praised for something I haven't done. I always have, and so did Doom.
And now, especially when the thing in question was done by my own mother? I am barely refraining from attacking the man.
Something must've shown on my face, as Jones smiles a bit nervously, and says, "Well, I won't delay you anymore, Mr Potter. Let me be one of the first to properly welcome you back into the Wizarding World! If you need anything, anything at all, feel free to send me an owl. It's the least I can do for you."
Heh. Funnily enough, he is the first person to say that. Professor Bagshot just welcomed me with her actions, not her words.
Nodding at Jones, I say, "Thank you for your help, Mr Jones. I appreciate it."
And then, I walk out of his office and into the corridor, where Auror Moody stood guard right outside. Looking up at him, still amused that he was trying to look at me with that fake eye of his, I say, "Shall we?"
Moody grunts, and as he starts leading me towards the Lifts, he says, "Suppose you'll be going to Gringotts now? Get your stuff in your hands and all."
Well, just because he cannot see me does not mean his eye cannot see the conversation going on inside the room, even if it is only one side of it. It is funny though, how his eye can hear conversations through the wall as well.
I hum, and say, "Yes. There are a few things I'm hoping to find in either of the three Vaults. My parents' wands for one, their old books another."
And my mother's Witchcraft books, of course. If they're there. If they are not there, I will be very displeased.
And from Jones's words, and from what I've read, my family belongs to the upper echelons of the Wizarding World. An 800 year old family, with a secure Vault to store their effects, will most definitely have things of interest to me.
Moody nods once, looking here and there when we reach the lifts, and enters before me. As the lift starts moving, he says, "I suggest not using the wands too much, unless you want to get in trouble with the DMLE again."
Raising an eyebrow, I ask, "Why?"
"You've been lucky, boy. Your wandless magic's being registered as Accidental Magic by the Ministry all this time. The minute you use a Wand, the Trace will activate and you'll violate the Decree for Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery. First time's a warning, second's a meeting with Bones, and third's expulsion from Hogwarts with your, or your parents' in this case, Wand being snapped." Moody explains, strangely detailed.
I'll have to try it within the confines of my House. My Ward should stop any magic from being sensed outside. Besides, he just confirmed to me that my Wandless Magic does not register as Underage Sorcery in whatever scanners the Ministry has set up. It is not like I'll be using my parents' Wands for everything once I have them. I do not need a crutch like the majority of the Wizarding Britain at least seems to have.
"You're being strangely helpful today." I say, looking at Moody pointedly.
Moody glances at me, and then looks away. His voice sounds a bit embarrassed when he says, "I might have jumped the gun a bit. Declaring that you were an impostor before even talking to you, springing Dumbledore on you."
I chuckle, and say, "Strangely enough that does not bother me one bit. I'm even flattered that you find me dangerous enough to jump the gun, as you put it."
Moody snorts, and shaking his head he says, "If I didn't know, I would have thought you Charlus's son, and not James's." When I turn to look at him, he says, "Charlus was your father's cousin, died in the 60s, he did. A few years above me at Hogwarts, but that time was a hard one for us- Grindelwald was only just rising when we were in Hogwarts- and hard times give birth to hard people. You remind me of him a bit, even if you're far more arrogant than Charlus."
As the lift finally stops at the top most floor, which holds the Atrium, I say, "Consider myself to be flattered once again, for comparing me to a War hero." At his curious look, I add, "Professor Bagshot spoke of him, and his tragic story. She mentioned that you were a part of the same team, during the second World War."
Moody grunts, and as we start walking towards the Atrium he grumbles, "The old bag has too good of a memory for one so ancient, and far too big of a mouth."
Smiling in amusement, I say, "She's a History Professor, of course she has a good memory when it comes to events of the past."
I have no doubts that I'll be a frequent visitor to her home, just so I can know what books cannot teach me.
Moody just nods in answer, as he limps behind me, allowing me to lead the way. The guard doesn't stop us as we go out, but thankfully the space was not too crowded, so we have no trouble reaching the Atrium.
Once out in the main Atrium, Moody points towards the fireplaces, and asks, "You know how to use the Floo?"
I shake my head with a frown, and say, "I have read about them a little, but not enough to know how to work them."
"Right." Moody says, and starts moving towards one of the fireplaces, which has a small stool next to it, a jar of sorts sitting on it. Pointing at the jar, Moody says, "Take a little bit of the Floo powder, just a pinch is enough but it doesn't have to be exact. Get into the fireplace, call out the destination name clearly, and then throw the powder down at your feet. Keep your eyes closed, elbows tucked close to your body, don't panic, get off at the right grate, and you'll be alright. You'll find yourself covered with green flames, don't worry they don't burn, and you'll then be at the destination. Any questions?"
I look around the Atrium, at a few people coming or going by way of these green floo flames, and ask, "What destination should I call out? Gringotts? Diagon Alley? Leaky Cauldron?"
Moody grunts and answers, "Gringotts doesn't allow us Wizards to Floo in unless your family has already arranged for a private entrance. Leaky Cauldron and Diagon Alley both let you off at the Leaky." Narrowing his eye at me, he adds, "Speaking of, most Floos are private, Warded to violently reject anyone that isn't authorized to be there. So don't try to follow someone home by listening to their Floo address."
I just give him an unimpressed look, and ask, "Anything else I should keep in mind? Or can I leave on my business now?"
Moody, the grumpy man that he is, grumbles, "Brat," and then says, "Nah, that's all. Now, I got work to do. So go on then, speak nice and clear, and don't forget to speak before you throw."
Ignoring Moody's impatience, I walk towards the jar, take a pinch of the glittery green powder, and walk into the fireplace. Taking care not to inhale the ash that's floating around, I call out, "Diagon Alley." And throw down the powder.
Immediately, a falling sensation grabs me as the view in front of my eyes changes rapidly, showing me green tinted views of other people's homes, worryingly enough. And then, just as suddenly, I find myself stumbling forward as the ground underneath my feet becomes solid once again. It is only once I've taken a few steps forward involuntarily, that my eyes become used to normal light, and I see the pub that is the Leaky Cauldron.
Shaking my head, I ignore the amused looks of the people there and walk towards the bar, so I can get something to drink. Something with ginger, preferably. This Floo will take some getting used to.
"Maybe next time, keep your eyes closed." I mumble to myself, nursing the ginger tea in my hands, ignoring the chuckling Tom.
—
Soon, I find myself on the stairs of Gringotts once again, staring at the gates with a strange anxiousness in my heart. I was excited even, I would say.
Just like the last time I've been here, I close my eyes for a second and take in the Magic that's almost everywhere in this area. Even in Diagon Alley, which already has an abundance of Magic all around, this specific region just shines to my senses.
Magic is everywhere, in everyone and everything. I've already figured that out years ago. Even muggles have Magic in them, as well as the Synthetic materials like Polyester, plastic and the likes, even if the amount in them is exponentially less than in Magical materials and beings.
But here, in Gringotts, the phenomenon that is Magic is even more apparent. Magic was used in every process while building Gringotts, I don't even need to read a history book to sense that. Every tile on the steps, every individual brick that makes up the building. Everything was created, enchanted, or even enhanced, using Magic during its very conception.
And I enjoy the feel of it very much.
Opening my eyes once I'm done basking, I look at the single guard standing outside, and stroll right in, the doors opening without my prompting.
Inside, there's another set of doors, which are already open thankfully, through which is the Gringotts main Hall. The large hall has over fifty Goblins standing guard all around, with fifty more Goblins manning their stations. 25 on each side, with the Head Goblin right at the end.
Ignoring them all, I walk towards the Head Goblin, and not to the sides where I had gotten my pounds exchanged to Wizarding money. I have to wait barely a few seconds before the Head Goblin looks down at me, and angrily drawls out, "Yes?"
Putting my hand up, I float my three keys up on the dias, and say, "I wish to be taken to my Vaults."
The Goblin slowly takes the keys in his hands, one by one, and carefully studies them. What he's looking for, either presence or absence of, I do not know. After around half a minute, he nods at me, and says, "That seems to be in order. Ranrok will take you to your Vaults, Mr Potter."
Ranrok, one of the runners waiting behind the Head Goblin, marches up to me and with a terse, "Come," bids me to follow him to the carts.
Well, time to see what my parents left me.
—
A/N: Don't curse me for being late, I'm worried as fuck because of my placements and the taunts I'm getting from my home because of the delays in getting a job.
Wish me luck!
Thank you!
Tata!
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone