Author's Note / Update: It was brought to my attention that my calculation of inflation could have been incorrect so I ran through several calculators and realized I accidentally made Harry a millionaire by today's standards which I did not intend, so I updated the chapter to reflect those changes. See post-chapter author's note for a final breakdown of how much Harry should have, life style wise.

Chapter Eight

Negotiations

That next weekend, Harry headed out to Gringotts. Michael's birthday was coming up in a week and whether Harry was ordering in person or via post relied on him having the funds to do so. He had put aside figuring testing himself for any toxins for now, as it really did not matter. He loved Ginny, at the least like a sister, so the least he could do was give her the benefit of the doubt. Not like he could see her again to be upset with. And he was sure Ron would not have appreciate it. Harry still wasn't sure what Hermione's motivations were but unless he understood it better, Harry needed to let go and truly start belonging to this period. After so many weeks, it was starting to become apparent this was going to be his new life and not just a temporary displacement. A new normal. And what better way to do that then to financially anchor himself and sign paperwork?

Upon arrival, he stepped up to a teller. It was far less busy in town than it was during the summer so the line was almost non existent.

"Hello, my name is Harium Key, and I am here to open up a new account." He pulled out the letter. The goblin reached out a pointed hand before inspecting it over his narrow glasses.

Harry was not really planning on making any claims on the Key vault. He double checked and as far as he could tell the Potters had no legitimate claim to the money. There were living, closer-related distance relatives so a claim could easily backfire and while he was in public he wouldn't breathe a word of it.

"Follow me," the goblin said before sneering – whisker-like mustache hairs lifting while doing so – and handing the letter back. The goblin waddled down and met with Harry on the other side before walking Harry to one of the sets of stairs near the side of the bank that led down a hallway he hadn't noticed in the past. On the marble walls was shiny lettering the read DEPARTMENT OF ACCOUNT SERVICES. The goblin stood to the side and pointed down the hall. "That way," and let Harry go on before the the goblin returned up the stairs. Once Harry made it down the carpeted path, Harry looked up at a brightly lit reception desk. It was another lobby. With even more sets of doors curving back along the sides of the reception desk. Two goblins sat at the front, one was busy handling incoming notes from tubes while the other was looking at Harry while pulling in the index finger in a "come here" motion. If stereotypes were right, like most secretaries this goblin should be female but Harry honestly could not tell the difference. This goblin had white hair to the chin but was equally as wrinkly and had a suit like the others.

When Harry approached, the goblin asked in a croaking voice, "Who are you here to see?"

Harry glanced at the letter in his hands. "Helmlok sent me a letter."

"The letter," said the goblin, gesturing for it. "You will not be seeing Chief Helmlok. He is far too busy to handle... individual accounts like yours."

"Right, sorry."

This goblin grabbed the letter and then flipped through a large notebook, probably full of schedules. "Rabclaw is free. He will see you momentarily." The goblin secretary rolled up a parchment and sent it through a shoot before promptly ignoring Harry.

Harry took the letter and awkwardly turned around to find a seat. But the moment he sat, a young-ish looking goblin came to get him. He followed silently, his footsteps echoing faintly in the long halfway, and finally he was led to an office where the door read:

RABCLAW

ASSOCIATE ACCOUNT MANAGER

"Name?"

"Harium Key," Harry answered awkwardly – this was getting repetitive. The goblin seemed to sense something was amiss and narrowed its eyes, before opening a drawer and flipping through some folders.

"Understand that Gringotts does not care what names you wizards use. If you wish to have a public name listed on your accounts for... ministry purposes, you may. But due to the way our... system maintains its records, you must provide your true name else you may face some..." Here the goblin bared its teeth, "... consequences." Harry winced mentally while someone maintaining a straight face externally. The goblin hinted further: "We do not take kindly to thieves in our bank."

Harry realized the goblin thought he was here to steal funds.

"I'm not here to request any accounts from the Key family vault. Just open a new one."

"Really," the goblin said as more of a statement. His skepticism rolled off him in waves. He tapped a pointed nail against the desk while staring Harry down over the edge of the desk.

Something about the white marble walls of the office around Harry made him feel small. The furniture in this room was sparse. Harry was thinking as fast as he could but it was hard to make a good decision when he was not pumped full of adrenaline or planned this better. Harry felt like an idiot for just hoping he would not have been asked.

Harry thought back on the letter and everything he remembered about goblin history and his interactions, and finally it occurred to Harry – the Goblins probably did not care at all. So long as they made money on their transactions, they had no obligations to spill his secrets to the ministry or anyone else. The only question was whether the goblins preferred if the money was claimed or not. And if the money was returned back to government accounts, it'd probably be earning a government-negotiated interest rate than if it was through a personal account.

If he remembered his conversation with Bill last year correctly, Goblins were not fond of the idea of inheritance to begin with. They saw it as gold that was unearned because all gold belonged to the goblin race anyway, or so it was believed. So Harry had come with a plan – an albeit weak one, knowing that goblins do not think of possession the same way as wizards. Fees would need to be paid.

Harry bent forward, a hand rubbing his neck. "Harium Key is my alias.. as you already figured out. My name is actually Harry Potter. I'm not very sure if I can claim the Key vault, I would love to if I have a right to it, but I already know there are closer blood ties elsewhere. I traced through my family tree and I found one family member as a distant relation but.. most people in the Wizarding world are distantly related."

"That they are," the Goblin said. The distain for wizarding inbreeding was left unsaid but evident nonetheless.

Then Harry continued, taking the risk and choosing his words carefully. "So, I would like to propose an arrangement... If I could claim the accounts, I would be willing to relinquish – to the Bank – the rights to all the interest earned on the account between the last vault possessor's death date up to the ten year anniversary, so long as I become sole possessor of the account from this point forward." It wasn't for greed. Harry realized the money was better off in his possession than in some pureblood supremist who realized it was still available.

Rabclaw bared his teeth but otherwise didn't say anything. Then the goblin opened a different drawer and pulled out two parchments and a quill and started filling them out. Harry was not very sure of what was happening. After a silent four minutes – Harry was watching the clock on the wall – the Goblin handed Harry the roll he was writing on. "Sign and date when you are done."

And so Harry read it. In the meanwhile, the goblin seemed to be working on some paperwork so Harry took his time. They seemed fairly standard new account forms. So far not indicating anything about the Keys themselves. The second was equally long but different in that it was written from an internal perspective. Mostly, it held Harry's true name, and an identifier to link the first contract and the second together.

At the bottom of both, he signed. He noticed a round outline near the signature line. When he looked up, the Goblin who had been watching him the entire time – probably to ensure he did not add new clauses to the contract – said, "Place your finger there. It is to bind you and your future beneficiaries."

Harry was wary, but what could he do. It was probably some sort of goblin spell.

He placed his fingers and felt a sharp prick. Yes, he expected that. When he flinched, Rabclaw grinned. Damned goblin probably enjoyed that. He looked under and he sat a bit of blood left on the parchment. He did the same to the other, and in spite of being wounded already and easily able to leave some blood in the second contract's field, he felt another sharp prick.

"Was that necessary?" Harry asked, annoyed.

"No," the goblin said somewhat amused. "But the blood was. It will be how we can ensure your claimants have legitimate claim. It will also help if we need to remake your key should you be so incompetent as to lose it."

The goblin took the parchments and sent it through the bank's internal mail chute.

Seconds later, a capsule with a vault key arrived.

Harry inspected it, thinking he was going to be excused soon.

"Wait one moment," Rabclaw said as if reading his mind. "I submitted the terms of your arrangement on the Key family vault to Chief Helmlok."

Harry raised his eyebrows but did not respond. He must have done that while Harry was busy with the forms. So Harry waited, looking around at the room some more.

Finally, a letter arrived.

"He would like to speak."

"I will be meeting Chief Helmlok?"

Rabclaw sneered. "No, he does not meet with wizarding children." Actually Harry was a legal adult wizard, but he was not going to fight over every small thing. "You will be meeting with the existing account manager, Glargo."

Rabclaw walked Harry to a room deeper down the hall.

When Harry sat down in the larger office and the door shut behind him, Glargo got started right away. "Would I be correct that you are agreeing to pay with the ten year interest earnings on the Key account if you could get claim over any closer relations?"

"Yes," Harry said, a part of him getting a bit elated. Was it working?

"Gringotts sees your terms and would like to counter. You may lay claim on all non-goblin-made material possessions but you must relinquish half of the liquid assets of the account."

Harry sat back. To be honest, it was more than he was expecting. He actually had no idea what was inside the accounts, so half could be small. He remembered Dippet said this family had been fairly old and could operate fairly well with pureblood elitist circles but most of the accounts could have been cleaned out and Harry would be arguing over knuts. But really, Harry had nothing. He always had nothing – he grew up with less than nothing at the Dursleys. It was a bit selfish and greedy to fight over every single knut. He was already doing good by keeping the money from future dark wizards.

He was Harry Potter. Harry Potter gives to those in need. Harry Potter sacrifices. Harry Potter wants to be normal. Harry Potter does not take.

But just for once, he realized, there was nothing wrong with indulging. There was nothing wrong with listening to his less than virtuous desires. That did not make him a bad person. It made him.. normal. Harry could do normal. And based on what he knew of normal, half was such a low-ball offer.

"My terms were already favorable for both sides. But I can agree to forfeiting the interest, plus five percent of the vault, and the guarantee that these terms will be kept within the bank. Also, as far as anyone knows I am the rightful Key Heir."

The goblin was tapping into something on his desk that Harry could not see, but he assumed Glargo was running some calculations. "Your terms, but twenty five percent," the goblin countered.

"The interest, five percent, the guarantee," Harry stated again listing them off his finger – he was missing something, something important, "And Gringotts can have all the goblin-made objects – not including the currency – in the vaults."

Glargo seemed to find this more favorable. "And you pay the fees associated with drawing up the paperwork."

Harry thought about it. That was much more than he anticipated. "Deal."

Glargo wrote something on the piece of paper, sent it along. After about ten minutes, during which Glargo started working on something and Harry grabbed a pamphlet on the desk detailing the bank's account tiers – pretty interesting actually, there was several services provided to those with larger amounts held in their combined accounts – two parchments came down and Glargo handed Harry the contracts without looking up.

Like with the new account contracts, there were two forms, one for the bank and the other for ministry records.

The details of their agreement were spelled out, but otherwise nothing seemed amiss. Harry signed using the quill on the desk – more pinpricks – and then handed it back to Glargo.

"Now, who would you like to handle your accounts? I am currently manage the accounts, but Rabclaw also has a right to the new one you opened."

Harry blanked out for a second. What was the benefit of each option? "How easy would it be to change?"

"There would be reasonable fees to handle the paperwork."

Harry paused, and glanced at the placard on Glargo's desk. Senior Account Manager. Wasn't Rabclaw just an associate?

Glargo caught where his eyes drifted. Harry then made his decision, starting to understand how this bank worked. "I suppose it would be unusual to have anything else but the usual Key family's account manager running my accounts."

"That it would."

"I would like you to handle all of my new accounts."

Glargo said nothing and wrote more on the parchment.

Moments later, Rabclaw entered the room. "The documents."

"Thank you."

Rabclaw barely spared Harry a glance. Harry thought the junior goblin might have taken it personally – he was never sure if he was offending a goblin or not, but it was business as usual. Harry gained more status keeping a more senior account manager.

Glargo took out a large filing box from a cabinet beside him and put the new folder inside. Then flipping through the documents, he started making notes on a parchment.

"Here is the statement of your accounts."

Harry read it:

ACCOUNT STATEMENT, ISSUED OCTOBER 30, 1943 at about 11:50:00 London Wizarding Time

PERSONAL ACCOUNT OF HARRIUM KEY / VAULT 4831

97 galleons

KEY FAMILY ACCOUNT, LONDON BRANCH / VAULT 539

4 galleons, 14 sickles, 17 knuts

KEY FAMILY ACCOUNT, NORWEGIAN BRANCH / VAULT 822

183 galleons, 432 sickles, 144 knuts

REAL ESTATE ASSETS:

3030 Occamy St, Oslo, Norway

The first thing Harry had noticed was the statement date. It was close to Halloween. His stomach fell. Time to lock himself in his dorm.

Then he read the rest of the statement and had to pause. By itself the numbers were fairly low. His old vault back in his timeline had contained stacks of galleons. He understood the general idea of inflation but had no idea what this meant for him.

"What is the exchange from galleon to pound?"

Glargo narrowed his eyes and then checked something on the surface of his desk that Harry could not see. "Currently it is 25.43 pounds to a galleon."

Harry frowned in thought as he did the mental calculation. 25 pounds to a galleon sounded about right – that was similar to what he was familiar with. He wasn't great at maths but he wasn't too awful back in primary. He racked his head to remember the prices of anything he bought recently.

He used to be able to buy a butterbeer for 2 sickles in the 90s and now he could get one for 4 knuts...

Glargo was tapping his nail impatiently.

Currency was about a tenth of what he was used to, so that meant the 97 galleons that Ben had was about 1000 galleons in the 1990s.

Then he breathed out in amazement. That much gold was amazing, and Ben gave that to him from his personal trust. On the other hand, the Keys – for an old family – did not seem to have much as they should. They must have spent most of it before their death. Hopefully there were some valuable books in there and other useful wizarding heirlooms.

Based on the amount in his funds, Harry could live comfortably as long as he supplemented it with a job, even a less lucrative one.

He had only seen a couple of Gringotts banking statements before, but Harry always found it interesting that the currency didn't round up to the nearest coin like it did with muggle currency. 4323 sickles was about 254 galleons but it was listed as sickles... It was likely due to the coins themselves being physical and not theoretical like with muggles.

"I'm surprised the Keys left money in London at all." But they likely wanted to leave some in case they needed to come back in a hurry. "... can the Norwegian funds be returned back to the London vault so we have one central account?"

"Yes."

"Don't liquidate the personal account to the London branch account," Harry said, on the off chance the goblins would try to take advantage of the fact the Key family accounts wouldn't be earning interest. Couldn't trust goblins not to want to take advantage of the terms.

Harry turned the parchment over but saw it was blank.

"No investments?"

"The last Key patriarch was not interested in investing."

"And... is the home still in tact?"

"It was decimated but the ruins have not been dealt with. Still value in the land, it is located close to a good shopping district."

"And the material possessions in the Norway account?"

"All of those had been transferred to Norway but we can have that delivered here."

"Yes, please. I'll come back next weekend to take inventory."

"Would you like to lay claim on some Potter funds as well?" the goblin asked with a smirk.

"Oh, uh, no thank you."

"I will make a note to have that appointment booked for perusing your vault. We will owl for a specific time when I am not busy."

"That's fine," Harry said, nodding. "I'd like to withdraw some funds?"

…

When Harry returned to Hogwarts, he felt.. different. It wasn't just the new possessions – he picked up better robes, school supplies, and the like. It was the knowledge that every single galleon, sickle, and knut in his possession was well and truly his.

He earned that. It was not inherited (in the traditional sense), it was not given due to some bizarre gifts for saving the wizarding world when he was a child. For the first time, Harry felt like a normal adult.

He earned the money from Benjamin just by being very Gryffindor and the rest due to negotiations. It felt amazing and his sad bleak feeling from earlier was starting to diminish.

As he was going back to his dorms, he passed by Avery who seemed to have come from the broom closet around the corner. "Key. What do you have to be happy about?.. And did you update your wardrobe?"

"Claimed my inheritance," Harry said, not sure why he was even telling the boy.

Avery did not answer, just looked taken aback and swiftly headed to the direction of the Slytherin dungeons.

…

On Halloween, Harry didn't talk much to anyone. He wanted to keep his head down as much as possible. He headed to the library after breakfast to grab a book to later read under the covers of his bed and claim he wasn't feeling well. Harry decided lately that the best way to avoid trouble was to avoid being in public, and that included the library. But he had to do it today. He'd have done this last night to avoid the risk of a Halloween adventure, but after returning from Gringotts yesterday afternoon, his friends dragged him into a long debate about the benefits of marrying the singer Minuette Wagtail vs actress Selene Mallard (neither of which he knew, but he managed to make something up on the fly based on which one Ben vs Mervin preferred – "Selene has the face of an angel but Wagtail has that bum...") followed by a late night trip to get ice cream from the kitchens.

So he grabbed a book on Dueling strategies in war by Sun Nian Zhou whose author's bio said he was a descendent of Sun Tzu. As he was on his way to the librarian's desk, he passed by news archive section and realized he never bothered looking up if, say, there were any Potters living currently. He glanced around and saw barely a soul in the library. People were likely partying early. Harry grabbed a couple of the most recent papers and started skimming for any reference. Potter, Potter, Potter, he muttered to himself mentally as he scanned. He paused at a few other surnames he recognized, including a quick notice that Newt Scamander was doing book signings next week that Harry made a note of, but otherwise not the one was after. After a few pages of this, he started to think he'd be better off using some sort of searching charm. That would involve hunting down another book.. or perhaps the librarian would know!

Harry looked up from the table to search out the librarian and met the dark eyes of Tom Riddle, sitting directly across from him. Quite miraculous, Harry barely reacted except for a slight flaring of his nose and his heart skipping a beat in surprise. Normally Harry would have noticed but he must have been so excited about learning anything about his family that he turned off his others senses.

"Hello, Harry. New clothes?"

"Riddle."

"What are you looking for there?"

Harry shuffled the papers until they arranged themselves neatly. "Just reading the news. I've been told more than once that it's like I live under a rock, so I wanted to do some research." Riddle hummed in skepticism after Harry's breathless excuse but otherwise said nothing, probably locking away the information for another day. Harry stood from the table to return the papers to the archive and felt Riddle following him.

He stopped and turned to look behind him, noting the library was still very empty save for the two of them. "Is there something you need, Riddle?"

"Yes, well... I was wondering if you would be interested in joining my study group?" Riddle asked.

Harry looked at him, stone-faced. "Why would you offer that?"

"My interests are my own."

"And why would I say yes?"

"I surround myself with the most well connected of wizarding society. Join me and you can be placed in lucrative positions in wizarding society." Harry noted that although posed as a group, Riddle said to "join me" rather than "join us."

"Isn't there Slug Club for that?" Harry asked.

"Slug Club is for Slughorn,"Riddle said, somehow managing to hold a straight face and not look annoyed. "Additionally, we delve into more knowledge based pursuits. There is a vast library around us and yet not a tenth of it is relevant to our studies here. You spend enough time here that I believe this would appeal to you?"

"Why don't I just join a Ravenclaw study group?"

Riddle rapped his nails against the desk once and leaned forward, clearly peeved. "Would you stop being so difficult?"

Harry leaned back and crossed his arms. "I'm not convinced."

"Ravenclaws are a bunch of competitive, grade grubbing bookworms who end up in academia, medicine, or law. Those who are interested in learning Other magic learn it and do nothing with except learn it for enjoyment. My group on the other hand are more interested in wielding what we learn. Application."

And unlike the Ravenclaws, Riddle wants to use that application and knowledge for power. For control over others. Harry would quickly point that out, but actually pissing off Riddle was not something Harry was interested in. Hermione would point out that one of the list of things on Harry's goal list now that he was stuck in this time was to redeem Riddle. Can't do that by burning bridges.

Still, can't make it easy.

It does however highlight what exactly drew Riddle to him. Harry was able to take what he was taught and use it beyond the classroom, which was done partly because he started learning to enjoy it during his seventh year with Hermione and partly out of self defense – having a dark lord near him made Harry especially jumpy.

Whatever the motivation Harry had for learning, Riddle wanted that type of person in the army he was building.

"Still not interested," Harry replied.

Harry walked to the librarian to check out his book, and Riddle continued to follow him out.

After some silence, Riddle said. "At least come to one meeting. You can't possibly think going to one could possibly be that much of a waste of time."

Harry looked thoughtful for a moment before turning the corner to take the stairs to the Gryffindor dorms. "Not interested," he shouted back.

…

Harry slipped back into the Gryffindor dorms, feeling thrilled that he still managed to evade Riddle. His smile was still somewhat on his expression when his friends saw him.

"What happened to you?" Barty asked.

"Nothing in particular. I'm just going to turn in now."

"It's eleven in the morning on a Sunday. Of Halloween. You can't be serious," Mervin whined.

"Deadly."

"What a bore."

"GET HIM."

Harry turned – "Wha –"

Suddenly his friends tackled him to the ground, disarmed him – he heard Poppy shouting "are you boys wizards or not – should have just used Expelliarmus instead of acting so brutish" – and started dragging him out. "Come on, Harry, there's The Faire!"

"The fair?"

"Oh, we forgot you're not from here."

"Hogwarts has a fair on Halloween. Shopkeeps from different towns come to show their wares."

"Aptly named, The Halloween Faire."

"Well I can just visit those shopkeeps then."

"But that's not the point. They'll be here – at Hogwarts!"

"There's going to be food stalls everywhere, mate!"

Harry was tempted. This would have been a new experience. But thought of better of it. " I should still say inside. I can just watch from my window. I'm not feeling too great"

"Come on Harry, it's our last year and it's going to be the only time you'll experience it!"

…

Somehow they managed to convince him after enough prodding. When they stepped on the castle grounds, Harry was actually somewhat amazed. There were various shop keepers everywhere, including ones from parts of Europe Harry hadn't thought of traveling to see, or known existed.

But while Harry was amazed, his friends seemed a bit down.

"Not so great of a turn out, is it?" said Barty.

"It's probably that war with Lord Grindelwald. Didn't think it was brought so close to London."

"Boys – "

"Oh, right. Sorry Harry, forgot about.. you know."

"It's okay."

"Grindelwald is doing a lot of damage on the mainland and Eastern Europe. Just because he isn't here, doesn't mean he won't be soon," Poppy said thoughtfully.

"Come on guys, let's not think about sad things – it's Halloween!"

Harry walked around, perusing some of the enchanted wares. It was all pretty interesting. There was a clockmaker who he thought the Weasley's might have gotten their heirloom clock from at some point.

He hadn't expected someone to shout at him.

"Boy! With the black hair."

Harry turned, and met the piercing gaze of what seemed to be the now forty year old wandmaker Ollivander. Harry tried not to look visibly nervous.

"I thought so. I don't recognize you. I suppose I didn't sell you a wand, did I?"

Harry wisely chose not to respond, and glanced around to get a friend to rescue him from what could be a dangerous situation.

"I'm sorry sir, I should probably -"

"Nonsense, nonsense... let me see your wand. I can do an inspection... "

"It's really okay. Look it's nice meeting you -" and Harry practically fled. He speed-walked behind a booth selling Healing Apples. Close call. Harry's heart was pumping a bit from the panic. He probably looked insane to some omniscient being – he was hiding from an innocent wandmaker. Ollivander always did unnerve him.

"Harry, are you alright?" he was looking down, so he just saw boots. Poppy kneeled down and rubbed his shoulders. He saw a few other pairs of boots approach.

"Wow, you look a bit pale. Maybe we should have let you stay inside today," Michael said.

"I can take Harry back to his tower. I was just about to leave anyway." Harry's head snapped up. Out of the boiling pan and into the fryer. Riddle. Damn his luck.

"I can take myself."

"Nonsense, Harry. Someone should watch over you."

Harry wanted to protest more, but he figured he couldn't drag his friends from the festivities. It'd make him feel too guilty. And walking back alone wouldn't prevent Riddle walking back with him. So Harry stood up on his own and started leaving.

Like he had guessed, Riddle walked in step with him.

"Twice in one day, I must be lucky," Riddle said cheerfully. Harry didn't respond. As they were approaching the main doors, Riddle rested a hand on Harry's shoulder.

"Come to my group. I'll pick you up from your Tower this coming Thursday. Nine in the evening"

"Look – I said no – "

"Or I will force you back to Ollivander's now."

Harry was so alarmed he didn't have a chance to give a rebuttal when Riddle practically slammed open the main door, strolled right through, and headed to the Slytherin dungeons, leaving Harry at the entrance.

Did Riddle always have to have the dramatic last word?

Author's note:

My interpretation is that 1000 galleons can open up a down payment on a small business in the late 20th century in prime downtown real estate (The Weasley Twins' shop.) That's no small sum, especially when you factor inflation in, even if they subsidized part of that with a loan. A butterbeer, which is non alcoholic, would be worth about 2 pounds.

He should have the equivalent of 300k pounds which is roughly 400k USD. A person with a salary of about 100k USD per year (less than what most doctors, lawyers, and tech folks make mid-career but still more than teachers), take home pay about 5k a month after taxes, about 2k going to basic living expenses (food, rent). This leaves about 3k per month for other spending and savings, so it's about how much a person like this would make after 10-20 years of working, giving Harry a very good head start on life but not a lot to live on for the rest of your life (and definitely not enough to live as long as a wizards do).