Harry watched in stunned silence the absurd farce involving his closest friends and himself, now transformed into a little boar. He remembered clearly, vividly, how the headmaster had fallen from the Astronomy Tower, awkwardly waving his hand, blackened by a curse. But now, he saw both of Dumbledore's hands whole and healthy. This couldn't be Polyjuice Potion—after all, for it to work, the person had to be alive. So, either this was some unknown spell, or it was truly Dumbledore. Harry leaned toward the first option, as he himself didn't look like his usual self. So, enemies.
And since they were enemies, it was just as well that he had the chance to eavesdrop on them. Calming down, Harry sharpened his eyes and ears, determined not to miss anything happening in the room.
"May I have your attention," Dumbledore began, tapping the Elder Wand against his palm. Everyone turned to him, ready to listen. "So, our collective task is finally complete. Let's not dwell on how things went—you all know that well enough. Today, we are here to sum up the results and outline our future plans."
Dumbledore paused meaningfully. Or he would have, had Snape not spoiled the moment.
"Don't expect me to risk my neck for any more crawling creatures, Dumbledore," Snape muttered through gritted teeth.
"Nunya, can a Slytherin really be afraid of snakes?" Sirius quipped instantly, laughing.
"Sirius, Severus, put your quarrels aside until after the meeting," Dumbledore's voice took on a slight chill, betraying his displeasure at their lack of restraint. "Severus, it was necessary. For everything to work, Voldemort had to believe that you were the master of the Elder Wand. I had to take risks, too—not just you."
Snape's disdainful snort was his only response.
"First of all, we need to figure out how to reintegrate into society and restore the civil rights of those of us who were declared dead," Dumbledore continued, seemingly satisfied with Snape's reaction. "It will be easiest for you, Remus, and for your son, Arthur and Molly. In your cases, we can say the mediwizards made a mistake."
"But Fred was still hurt!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed indignantly.
"He and George will receive funds to expand their business," Dumbledore reassured her. "Molly, we needed to present the public with a significant number of victims of pureblood oppression."
"How many?!" the red-haired matron shot up.
"Hmm…" Dumbledore glanced at the frowning James. "Five hundred galleons?"
"You must be joking, sir! No less than a thousand!" she replied.
"Hey, I'm a pureblood too, you know," James chimed in simultaneously.
"James, dear boy, you're one of us. This doesn't concern you," Dumbledore said gently. "Let's not get sidetracked, friends."
The group fell silent. Dumbledore finally managed to hold his meaningful pause.
"It's more complicated with you, Sirius," he continued, "but we'll arrange your return from the Veil. We have connections in the Department of Mysteries; we'll negotiate. The problem is, you're still a criminal in the eyes of the law, and since Pettigrew is no longer around, you'll just have to wait. Once I regain my position as Head of the Wizengamot, I'll push for a review of your case, and you'll be exonerated due to lack of evidence. For now, live here, at Grimmauld Place. The house is well-protected."
"'Live here'…" Sirius mimicked him. "Dumbledore, you've forgotten that not only was I cast out of my family, but the house isn't mine anymore since I faked my death. The house's protections don't answer to me, and the only house-elf doesn't obey me. As you insisted, I had to leave the inheritance to that child, and it's still registered under his name."
That child! Harry froze, realizing Sirius meant him.
"If you hadn't left everything to Harry Potter, your inheritance would have gone to the Malfoys," Dumbledore replied firmly. "We couldn't afford to lose the Black family's assets. Since they are in Harry's name, they can't belong to the boy."
Sirius immediately turned to James.
"James, make sure your son transfers my property back to me."
"Of course, Siri, but there's a slight problem. The boy, along with these two," James nodded at Ron and Hermione, "recently robbed Gringotts, and he did it under the name of Harry Potter. So, my Harry can't show up at the bank until this misunderstanding is cleared up."
"And when will that be?"
"Well, obviously, neither Lily, Dumbledore, nor I can appear at the bank right now. Arthur is working to restore relations with the goblins, but they intend to fleece us. Also… well, Arthur, why don't you explain."
Mr. Weasley perked up, cleared his throat, and stretched his thin neck.
"The goblins are demanding compensation for damages: the capture of the escaped dragon, the destruction of an entire section of the bank. Fortunately, the contents of the vaults were in another dimension and weren't affected. Otherwise, we'd never be able to pay it off—some of those vaults contain extremely valuable items. The goblins only had to repair the wall, the security doors, and reconnect the vaults, but it's still a lot of money. The goblins are also demanding compensation for moral damages, but I'm insisting we only pay for the material costs of the bank's repairs."
"Arthur, send a ministry commission to inspect the goblins. They'll find something to fine them for," Dumbledore suggested. "Impose sanctions on them, then resume negotiations."
"It'll take about two weeks, maybe even a month," said Weasley, calculating something in his head. "Yesterday, I sent them a letter from our Harry," he glanced at the plump non-Dudley, "and reminded them that they are obliged to provide a statement about the property, even if they deny the client access to it. Harry's estate manager left briefly, and when he returned, he acted strangely. He said he couldn't give the statement and that blood traitors had forgotten what bloodline magic and blood inheritance are."
"Those goblins have really grown bold," came Lily Potter's shrill voice, slightly too piercing to be pleasant. "How could they deny our Harry his statement? He's a hero!"
Dumbledore looked at the woman wearily, as if she had long and constantly tested his patience.
"Lily, dear, is your son taking weight-loss potions? We can't present him to Britain until he at least somewhat matches the boy who replaced him."
"Of course he's taking them, sir!" Lily flared up immediately. "But I can't starve my child, Harry needs to eat! And why are you blaming me, sir? Blame Severus, he's the one who brewed the weak potions!"
Snape shot her a venomous glare, grinding his teeth so loudly even Harry noticed. Unfazed, Lily continued:
"Severus, you're the headmaster there! Couldn't you have fattened the boy up so he'd match Harry?! And I've already told you, you should have found a different spell, one that would make the boy always look exactly like my Harry! In the newspapers, in the magic photos, he looks so scary and thin—what will people think?"
No one answered her. It seemed Mrs. Potter was tolerated like bad weather. Sensing her victory, she looked around triumphantly and fell silent. Taking advantage of the pause, Hermione asked:
"And who was this boy that replaced Harry? And why did you replace the real Harry?"
"I won't let anyone risk my son's life, sweetie!" answered Lily, only catching the last question.
"But—"
"The Chosen One's life, dear," Lily interrupted, for whom there was no such thing as 'but.' "And if something had happened to Harry, who would have saved the world then?"
"But still, who was the boy?"
"What does it matter, Hermione, don't worry about it," Ron said indulgently, lightly shaking her and pulling her close. "You always want to know everything, our little curious one."
Dumbledore glanced at Ron and Hermione embracing and blessed them with a fatherly smile.
"The children deserve to know—they've done much for the victory," he said. "Hermione, don't let the boy worry you, he's just the son of a Death Eater. He's from a dark wizard family that our Order members attacked a month before Voldemort's disappearance. His mother died resisting, and we took the child, planning to leave him with Muggles, but I thought he'd make a good replacement for our little Chosen One. Enemies can and should be misled, so I cast a spell to change the Death Eater's child's appearance."
"And what happened to his father?" asked the persistent Hermione. Once she decided to learn something, not even Lily Potter, head girl and prefect, could stop her.
"Our raid didn't catch him at home—he was probably with Voldemort at the time, tormenting poor defenseless Muggles together. Dumbledore shook his head mournfully and spread his hands in regret—what could he do with such scoundrels? "Travers was caught later, after the Dark Lord had already disincarnated, and was imprisoned in Azkaban with the other Death Eaters."
"So it's Travers' son, I didn't know that!" exclaimed Black.
"You weren't on that raid, my boy. Alastor Moody led it himself."
"All the better, that Travers was a Slytherin to the core," Sirius chuckled briefly. "Serves him right."
"His wife was a Ravenclaw, you should remember her," Lupin prompted.
"Why would I remember some Death Eater?"
"She wasn't married to him yet. Remember Jay's wedding? The bridesmaid that Marlene McKinnon brought? You spent the whole evening chasing after her."
Sirius looked at his friend in astonishment.
"Loonie, do you really think I should remember every girl I've chased after? I was only flirting with her to get back at Marlene. Though I do remember her—pretty little thing—and, believe it or not, she was a virgin. But by morning, I'd already forgotten about her—it's a horse that has a big head, let the horse do the thinking."
Pleased with himself, Sirius was the first to laugh at his simple joke. Remus smiled politely.
"And what about Travers—is he dead too?" Ginny asked, feeling like she wasn't getting enough attention.
"No, my dear, he survived Azkaban and the recent battle," Dumbledore replied. "He was captured and, along with Rookwood and Dolohov, sent back to Azkaban. They were all severely wounded and had to be treated first."
"Too bad Azkaban is without Dementors now," Sirius commented. "It's not a punishment anymore, just a joke."
"Why are we talking about nonsense?" Lily huffed. "Dumbledore, I came here to hear how we're going to rejoin British society with James. That's why I'm here."
"Lily…" Dumbledore sighed resignedly. "We can't show your Harry to society until he slims down a bit. And your and James' return will be properly arranged only after people have gotten their fill of the savior of Britain. And that won't happen until we deal with Gringotts, or else the goblins will demand too much compensation. Have you forgotten whose money that will be?"
Mrs. Potter fell silent, stroking her non-Dudley's hand. Dumbledore straightened majestically in his chair.
"We have one more important matter to address—what to do with the boy," he declared.
"Is there a problem with him?" Sirius asked in surprise.
Harry's legs gave out. He leaned against the wall of the alcove and slowly slid down to the floor. Enough had been said at the meeting for him to realize these weren't impostors—these were the very people he had spent years alongside at Hogwarts. And now these people were deciding his fate.
"We are not Death Eaters, my boy," Dumbledore shook his head reproachfully. "Even the descendant of dark wizards deserves a chance at life, and he will have that chance. The boy is completely harmless; I've removed the spell that changed his appearance, and he's now asleep on the third floor. Severus, when will he wake up?"
"In about an hour and a half to two hours," Snape grumbled.
"We will leave the boy with the same vault that has funded his upbringing…"
"That's too much money for a boy, Dumbledore!" interrupted Lily. "I remember that sum very well!"
Dumbledore hesitated, uncomfortable under Mrs. Potter's sharp green gaze.
"Lily, dear, the Order of the Phoenix's operations also required funds, and quite a lot," he reluctantly admitted. "There's only a little more left than what you give Harry for pocket money."
Lily measured him with a look that clearly said, 'embezzled, old fool,' but remained silent. What was the point of arguing if the money was already spent?
"So you're not against it—good girl." Dumbledore nodded approvingly. "You've always been kind and generous."
"Too much so," she snorted.
"So, as soon as our dear friend Arthur settles things with the goblins, we will transfer this vault into the name of Arcturus Travers. I'll wait here until the boy wakes up, explain the situation to him, and take an Unbreakable Vow of silence about his role in Voldemort's demise. I'm sure that will be enough—our former Harry is a very kind, selfless, and noble boy. He must understand this was necessary for the greater good. Of course, I'll advise him to stay out of public life and settle far from the hustle and bustle of the city—he's a modest boy, and deep down, I'm sure he's dreamed of that himself. Now, my friends, this meeting is adjourned, so allow me to escort you out. And don't worry, everything will be taken care of."
The entire group left the living room and headed toward the fireplace room. Harry—or no, not Harry, but Arcturus Travers, dark wizard and son of a Death Eater—realized that in just a few minutes, they would notice his absence and start looking for him. And they would certainly find him because he couldn't leave without a wand.
But there was still one tiny chance to avoid the Unbreakable Vow, under which Dumbledore could demand anything. The old house-elf had been treating him kindly lately.
Scrambling out of the alcove, Arcturus called:
"Kreacher!"