Harry Potter: Seducing Destiny

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Okay, back to the basics fellas!

Turns out Hermione was right. Not all witches and wizards are interested in the Dark Arts. Some of them actually decide to go for a variety, and no, putting your head into your arse and pretending things are all jolly is not considered a variety. That's just the Cornelius Fudge syndrome.

There are three paths that diverge from the path of standard witchcraft, at least, from what the Screen tells me, with each of them marked by one, specific trait. The first and foremost, is the Path of the Incubus, chosen by yours truly. It is a path where the aspirant journeys into the magics of lust, sex, hunger and manipulation. Not very high in terms of power scaling, but terrifyingly dangerous to others nonetheless. A path where one chose to prey upon others, stealing their powers for their own. Veela, from what I understood, were descended from Incubi-spawn, specializing further down that path.

The second, was the Path of the Necromancer. Harnessing the powers of the dead, and finding ways to anchor oneself to Reality. These were the ones that walked in the Valley of the Dead, and yet, Death would never touch them. This was the path that Tom Riddle followed, and by the looks of it, it turned out to be pretty advantageous as well.

The third, and final way was the Path of the Sorcerer. Perhaps the most difficult route of them all. It involved establishing something called a Nexus with a Ley Line, and using its power to massively boost one's own. I wasn't sure who or how one traveled along this path, but given Dumbledore's 'Grand Sorcerer' epithet, I guessed he might have chosen the third path.

All three powers led to great power. All three of them attained their zeniths in their own ways. All three of them brought immense changes to the world.

I had chosen the path of the Incubus, possibly the least powerful of them all, and at the same time, possibly the most influential and thus, dangerous. With the right application of my seductive powers at the right time, I could probably influence the Ministry of Magic, the Wizengamot and maybe even the world. And this summer would give me the opening I needed.

Now here's the twist. Any sod could have chosen any of the three paths in life. But once you choose something, you cannot change tracks to the other path. Incubi traveled the way of Lust, and Lust was one of the few things the Valley of the Dead had no place for. Necromancy was a Taboo, and there was no way a Ley Line would allow a sorcerer to use its energy to create a Taboo. In turn, the tremendous energies that a sorcerer channeled on a daily basis required a mind so rigid and unbendable, that no incubus worth his salt would ever fathom to have.

And this was where the Outlander Perk really shone. Because I was an Outlander, the laws of Reality which were absolutely stringent for everyone else, were a little… relaxed for me. Should I desire it, I could travel along all three paths. All I needed was to arm myself with enough teeny, tiny, seemingly inconsequential things called Perks.

Functions that upon activation, resulted in drastic changes in the magical constitution of the bearer. Some perks were passive, like the Child of Prophecy, always ensuring that I'd never suffer a day of boredom in my life. My newly gained Pheromone perk fell into the same category, making me supernaturally more desirable to the female folk.

And then there were perks like the Horcrux, which was a one-off, guaranteeing me a single pass from Death, as well as shoot my Dark Arts affinity to a hundred. But one thing was certain— every witch, wizard and magical creature had these perks and affinities, only they never realized it, much less visually interpret them in terms of numbers. Instead, they simply thought they were talented at something and worse at others, never realizing the mathematical relevance of affinity involved.

In that respect, I could somewhat understand why the Purebloods preferred to marry their offspring with other purebloods. Given the significance of blood in magic, it was a no-brainer to think that perks could be genetically inherited by future offsprings, shaping a family into following a specific Art. It was a better option than marrying a muggleborn that might or might not have a perk in the first place.

And then there were muggleborn like Hermione Granger— blessed with stuff like this.

PERK — LIBRARIAN OF KNOWLEDGE

Walking-Breathing Hard Drive. That's You!

EFFECTS

An ability that makes it possible for a clear recall of knowledge from memory even if the information perceived in the past was not consciously acknowledged at that time.

In simple terms, Eidetic Memory. The ability to recall information with near perfection. It was what allowed Hermione to hoard a reservoir of spell knowledge, incantations, wand movement and theory — allowing her to guzzle her way through spellbooks while other students toiled to master even a few, limited spells. With a perk like this, there was no way Hermione wouldn't have landed a research position at the Department of Mysteries or something equally promising.

Well, no more. All those doors closed the moment Lupin slashed her.

Muggleborn and Werewolf. Two classifications that the Ministry was biased against, and Hermione was both. She was literally the lowest rung on the social ladder. You could step over her rung. I doubted the Ministry would allow her to return to her parents, citing dangers of letting a werewolf amongst muggles. It'd be a PR nightmare for Fudge if things went south. Hermione would either have to live at a werewolf coven, or be forced to live in the slums of Knockturn Alley, scraping by for a living.

But if someone were to provide her a shelter, a chance to continue her education and a place to return to, there was no doubt Hermione would be forever indebted to him or her. And fortunately, I was in the right place, at the right time, about to access a home exactly like she needed. Because apart from being Harry's best friend and most loyal supporter, I recognized the potential that she had. With the increased rejuvenation, speed and strength of a werewolf bolstering her reflexes and combat potential, and her Perk allowing her to remember and in time, master hundreds of spells, Hermione could become a devastating opponent on the battlefield.

Or, an impossibly formidable acolyte. Especially if I could take advantage of her tendency to bow down to authority. For someone so bullheaded, Hermione had a submissive streak a mile wide.

Some part of me wondered if Albus freaking Dumbledore had mentioned this apartment because he knew I'd take Hermione in. Sure my use of Luck had changed the game, but the wily old man was eerily clairvoyant in such matters. Maybe he had a perk that allowed him this facility?

"Come on, move in already!"

I ignored the man on my right and looked up at the massive, snowy-white, multistorey edifice that was Gringotts, easily one of the most remarkable pieces of real estate in Wizarding Britain. It towered over all the shops on either side, an imposing construction on pure white marble that housed the one and only magical bank for witches and wizards.

And run by goblins. Snarky, calculative and greedy as fuck.

I traipsed up the stairs and stepped past the large bronze doors, into a large antechamber tapering into a long hallway, leading to the main entrance of the bank, flanked by javelin-wielding, armor-plated goblins. I recalled reading somewhere that goblin-made armor was enchanted to deflect everything but the most esoteric of curses. Goblins couldn't do the regular magic that wizards could, but their ability with metal was second to none.

I passed through the ornate doors into a familiar, extravagantly large entrance hall, way more majestic than the one featured in the motion picture. There were twelve, no— thirteen rows of counters, each of them manned by a single goblin teller, each of them having their back facing a door. The entire chamber had, fascinatingly enough, thirteen ionic pillars, and thirteen passages that led into the interiors of the establishment. Arithmantic significance or not, the goblins were in love with the number.

I briefly recalled Harry's memory of walking into the bank during his third year, and pulling my hood off my face, strode up ahead. "Harry Potter," I said, deepening my voice, "I want— want an accounting of my fortune."

The goblin wrinkled his nose. "And your key, Sir?"

I handed him the tiny golden key. The goblin all but snatched it from my hands, peering at it, and scowling before returning it back to me. I wondered if the scowl was because he couldn't call the key a fake and throw me into some pit of despair.

"Very well," He said. "Please revisit our premises after a hundred and forty two hours. We'll reserve a slot for you with Gornuk." The clinical and friendly tone made his words sound even more snobbish. "Would that be all, Sir?"

Clearing my throat, I tried again. "Is there any way to… expedite the process?"

The teller narrowed his eyes. "Ten galleons for instant accounting. Seventeen and a half if you want all documents arranged and delivered to your premises via owl before you leave the bank."

So that was how.

"Fine," I said, "lead the way."

I'll give you this one — When a goblin gives you his word, he's good for it.

For the next three hours, I had my meeting with an accountant called Gornuk, a meeting that involved a growing stack of folders and parchments that steadily rose from the floor, several dozen documents that he had me sign, several acknowledgement slips he had me verify and another dozen security mandates that I had missed, courtesy of being underage and unaware of the bank's customs. That had followed up with a quick visit to Vault no. 687, belonging to the Potter family. Reading about it was one thing, but actually seeing those mounds of gold and silver before my eyes, I was suddenly glad I had made this trip by myself, despite Dumbledore wanting to send someone with me. Hastily shoving several dozen galleons and some sickles into my pouch, I returned to the cart operator and brought back to Gornuk's cubicle to get a formal accounting.

And what an accounting it was!

"Among House Potter's major investments, you have an annual thirty-six percent royalty from Sleekeazy Products Inc, and an annual ten percent revenue from Slug & Jiggers Apothecary, and an annual twelve point five percent from Firebolt Broom Company. Including gold and other liquid assets, counting for Insurance and House Costs adjusted for inflation, House Potter stands at eighteen million eight hundred and seventeen thousand galleons, nine sickles and four knuts."

I blinked.

Then blinked again.

"Eighteen million…." I croaked.

"Eight hundred and seventeen thousand galleons, nine sickles and four knuts, yes."

I coughed. "Go on."

The goblin looked at me apprehensively before returning to his paper. "A twenty thousand galleon deposit from the Wizengamot, for the Order Of Merlin, First Class— for role played in the death of the Dark Lord," — I winced at that— "eleven thousand galleons and five sickles for various bounties placed by independent contractors on the Dark Lord, and a three thousand four hundred and fifty seven galleons and nine knuts from Lily Evans' personal Vault, plus property at 17, Tottenham Court Road, London."

I perked up at that. "That property, it's a flat, right? Can I move in?"

The goblin peered at him. "It is your property."

Ignoring the urge to pump my fist into the air in exhilaration, I calmly responded. "What about protections? Wards? I'm just a student, and can hardly craft proper protections."

Gornuk perked up at that. "Gringotts offers a wide range of enchantments and ward-builders. I can arrange for a warding scheme brochure if you like. If you're willing, our employees can visit the property and fortify it."

I considered that for a moment. "I'd like that, preferably before the end of term. I'd like to move into that apartment."

"Easily arranged," the goblin said, before taking yet another piece of parchment and peering at it. "There has been a recent addition to your Vault, that is pending acknowledgment. A ten thousand galleon bounty on Sirius Black, offered by the Ministry of Magic on July 3rd, 1995."

I grimaced. While I had no attachment to Sirius Black, Harry did. The idea that I was getting the bounty for the death of the person that had escaped Azkaban to save Harry from Pettigrew felt both ironic and wrong. Ignoring the sudden flip that my stomach made, I focussed on the goblin.

"What else?"

Gornuk looked at me calculatingly. "There is also the last will and testament of Sirius Orion Black, Heir of the Black Family, bequeathing everything to you in case of his demise."

I blinked.

"...Say that again?"

"Mr. Black visited Gringotts on December 7th, 1995 to make changes to his account. It was on his instruction that Gringotts altered his will to hand over all monies, properties and other fortunes of the House of Black to Harry James Potter."

I leaned back on the cushioned chair and tried to digest all of it, mentally reviewing what this could mean.

"And… what does that entail?"

"Vault 1187, belonging to Alphard Sagitarius Black, name transferred to Sirius Orion Black, current monetary assets of three hundred and seventy-four thousand galleons, nine sickles and one knut. There is also the possession of a farmhouse in Espelette, France and… an enchanted muggle vehicle, loaned to one Rubeus Hagrid."

I cleared my throat. "How much is that… in terms of British pounds?"

A shadow of something dangerous flickered on the goblin's face. "Why do you ask, wizard?"

"Curiosity."

"Muggles have an expression, 'Curiosity killed the cat.'"

"I'm well aware," I said. "But I'm also looking to invest in the muggle world," I paused and then added, "through Gringotts' facilitating it, of course."

The goblin narrowed his eyes. "Nothing. We care nothing for those bits of paper muggles call currency. If it isn't in galleons, sickles and knuts, we do not care for it."

I frowned. That was weird. Just what did muggleborns do when they got their letter? Surely they had to exchange British pounds for galleons?

Maybe I should ask Hermione about this later.

"Fine… please continue."

Gornuk frowned, and lifted a single package and carefully placed it on the desk before me.

"What's this?"

The goblin gave me an inscrutable stare, before pulling out another piece of parchment from his drawer. "Harry James Potter. Son of James Potter, and through him, his father Fleamont, and grandfather Charlus, you're descended from Dorea Potter, formerly Dorea Andromeda Black, daughter of Cygnus Black II and Violetta Bulstrode. Sirius Orion Black, last recognized Heir of House Black, named you his Heir in return."

"..."

I was floored. Did he mean to say that—

"Regardless of Mr. Black's status as a fugitive from Azkaban, House Black has a Special Circumstances Provision with Gringotts, authorizing us to continue financial matters with House Black members irrespective of the Ministry mandate. Which is why Gringotts recognizes Mr. Sirius Black's authenticity as the Lord of House Black, regardless of the Ministry's stance on the matter. The hiccup only arrives when conferring the title to you."

I knew where he was going. Or at least, I thought I did.

"The current Regency of House Black rests on Lucius Malfoy. His son Draco Lucius, is the other Heir of the Black Family, through his mother Narcissa Druella Malfoy, formerly Black. Offering the mantle of House Black to you goes against Ministry Law, which I'm sure you'll agree, is too much of a pain to deal with."

I empathized with the creature.

"I imagine you have a solution?"

Gornuk's teeth showed. "You're a celebrity, Mr. Potter. If you were to, say, be an active promoter of Gringotts for the next… ten years, it'd go a long way in countering the negative press from the Ministry's side. As a token of thanks, we could expedite the process for Mantle transfer to you. Gringotts can confer Conditional Lord status, with a period of no more than one year, from this day, to prove the innocence of Mr. Sirius Black, as he so-claimed upon his visit to Gringotts back in December."

Wow. I was really getting pulled into the plot, wasn't I?

"If you can prove that, and have the Ministry revoke Mr. Black's status as a fugitive, Gringotts can confer the title of Lord Black to you. That includes Assets of Vault 19 belonging to the House of Black, including liquid assets worth twelve million, one hundred and twenty-three thousand galleons and six sickles, counting for Insurance and House Costs adjusted for inflation. We do not currently have an accounting of the non-liquid assets, but that is irrelevant for now."

It probably said something that I was able to hear the outrageous figure and not twitch a muscle.

Then it clicked.

"I'm sorry, did you just quote the Black fortune as lower than that of the Potters?"

Gornuk tilted his head. "Our statements show heavy draining of the accounts during the period of 1973 to 1981. In fact, the fortune reached an all-time low of seven million and eleven thousand galleons, before the Bride Prices from House Malfoy and House Lestrange raised it back to ten million, five hundred and fifty seven thousand galleons. The raise after that has been due to the efforts of the current Black Regent, Lucius Malfoy."

I whistled. Guess this was why House Black married Narcissa and Bellatrix to those families. In that light, Andromeda cost the House a hefty loss by eloping with Ted Tonks. No wonder she was cast out. At the same time, it seemed dear Lucy did work to expand the Black resources for when his son took over.

Too bad things wouldn't turn out that way.

"–red to that, the Potter family has been a neutral family, apathetic to the events and focussing on its own business growth. In fact, James Potter almost got thrown out of the family for funneling sums of gold for war-funds."

I did a double take. That, I had not seen coming. Guess this was why even Draco Malfoy considered the Potters as 'respectable'. Not just in terms of finances, but also in mindset. Compared to his progressive father, his grandfather Fleamont Potter was a staunch pureblood, possibly raised by the same ideals as Dorea Black.

"That's… good to know." I considered the numbers again. The new information made me wonder if trying to get Sirius proved innocent, posthumously or otherwise, would be worth it.

"Say, what if I cannot prove Sirius's— I mean, Mr. Black's innocence within a year?"

"Then Sirius Black's directions will be ignored, costs subtracted, and the mantle of Lord Black, along with its monies and assets shall be offered to Draco Malfoy, the next in line after Sirius Black."

Wonderful. The goblins were dead set to throw me right in the middle of the mess while they sat collecting profit.

Greedy bastards.

Still, it wasn't like I didn't have anything to gain from the Black name. A veritable mountain of gold, if nothing else.

"I can agree, upon one condition."

Gornuk looked at me with condescension. "I do not think you understand your situation right now, Mr. Potter. Gringotts has no dog in the fight. Whether the mantle goes to yourself or Draco Malfoy, it makes no difference to us."

"I wasn't born yesterday, goblin," I shot back, "if you had nothing to gain, we wouldn't be having this conversation. Lucius Malfoy wouldn't give you a grateful nod for siding with his brat, and oh yes, if I reject the deal, the promotion is off the table as well."

"As is the Black fortune," Gornuk replied slyly.

"True," I shot back, "but you have me confused with a greedy gold-loving bastard." His eyes grew to flints at my not-so-subtle insult but I continued before he could retort. "You want this ship sailing? Then sweeten the deal."

Gornuk hissed something low in his throat.

"Here is what I want," I went on, "The Black townhouse in London. Number 12, Grimmauld Place."

Gornuk scowled. "How do you know about that property? It's unplottable."

"One of my many talents. Asking annoying questions is another. That was the house Sirius grew up in. Shouldn't I inherit that property?"

Gornuk's eyes widened with every word I spoke, and at the mention of Sirius's name, he flinched as if I'd struck him. His stature seemed diminished by the time I was done, and he settled back into his chair.

"The inheritance of the property in London is… complicated. As per the Black Charter, the inheritance of Number 12, Grimmauld Place and all treasures within it are to be governed by Feodum Talliatum, or in simple English, Entailed Estate. Are you familiar with the term, Mister Potter?"

I shook my head.

"It means that the possessor, or monarch of a property has the absolute title in his name, and can bequeath it or otherwise dispose of it as he wishes, whether to perpetuate his bloodline, family name, honor or armorials. By keeping the estate intact in the hands of one heir alone, in an ideally indefinite and pre-ordained chain of succession, the net wealth, power and family honor would be dissipated amongst several heir candidate lines. Any disputes over the cases of succession are usually handled as per the Black Charter's guidelines."

I got what he was saying. In simple terms, only a single Heir would gain everything while everyone else would be under his or her command. And the Charter was the final say on who won the lottery.

"As the recognized Heir, the House is Sirius Black's to give away. On the other hand, the Charter puts you in second place for succession, while Draco Malfoy, direct blood to Narcissa Black, is given first priority. Also to be noted is the fact that neither yourself, nor Draco Malfoy is part of the male descendancy from the main line. There is also the issue of the property at Number 12, Grimmauld Place being registered as the official seat of power for House Black. We are at a crossroads."

"I want unrestrained access to that property," I said coldly, drawing on my magic. "Draco Malfoy isn't the Conditional Lord. I am. What's the point in having the title if it's filled with blanks?"

The goblin's lips twisted in distaste. "The residence in question is very high priced. Handing it over means—"

"An extra three percent on Gringotts commissions when I make the transition to Lord Black on paper."

"Fifteen."

"One."

"That's not how bargains work."

"Bargains? I thought we were playing lets-be-unreasonable games."

Gornuk scowled. "Perhaps Draco Malfoy would find it more reasonable?"

I scowled. "Five percent."

Gornuk grinned toothily. "Eight and we've got a deal."

"On condition that this stays under the table. Speed and discretion, as they say."

"Fine," Gornuk said, "Do we have a compact?"

I smiled. "What's in the damn package?"

Gornuk revealed his fangs and laughed. "The Black Lord ring. devoid of enchantment. If you'd like, Gringotts can offer its enchantment services for you, at a most nominal fee."

"Of course," I gritted my teeth and put up my best fake smile. Of course you will."