The Gift of the Magus

He was rich.

Tom's mind was spinning, but it kept coming back down to that essential point. He'd never thought of it as a real possibility before. Oh, he'd dreamed about it, of course -- what poor orphan didn't?

As he stared into the open vault, more gold than he'd ever known existed in one place, it occurred to him that Voldemort's followers had never really understood why their master had collected such wealth. Oh, certainly -- there were bribes, and experiments to be funded, and plans to be financed -- but beyond all the logical reasons, behind all the transformations and Dark magic, there had still been the little boy on the street corner, watching the big cars go by, and wanting.

And on the heels of that realization came the understanding that he, Tom, knew something Voldemort had never known, or had forgotten. The little boy had often dreamed of a gift like this -- but Tom was grown enough to see past the glitter to the shadow underneath.

But it was still a wrench to look away from the shining gold, up into Dumbledore's impassive gaze, and say in a very small voice "I can't keep this."

Something flickered in the cool blue eyes, but just as Dumbledore set his hand on Tom's shoulder, Gnashtalon's voice said with some exasperation, "Don't tell me you've changed your mind now."

Dumbledore glanced over, a tiny quirk at one corner of his mouth as he said politely, "I don't believe that was quite what he meant. If you could give us a moment to speak...?"

"Ah. Very well." Gnashtalon paused and turned to look up the track; Tom was still startled, despite this hint, when a second cart -- bearing another goblin and a large number of books -- racketed down and locked itself with a loud clang to the first. "You may consider your conversation private until such time as you require further action from me."

"Thank you."

"I didn't mean that I want to give back access to the account," Tom said quietly. "I think it's even more important the Death Eaters aren't able to use the money, as much as there is. But I didn't do anything to deserve that money, and neither did Voldemort, probably, so it would be wrong to keep it. No matter how many problems it could solve."

"It had occurred to me that you might reach such a conclusion." Dumbledore's voice was low as well, though neither goblin gave the slightest sign of paying them any mind at all. "I might remind you that we are all born with assets that we have done nothing to deserve -- magic and intelligence among the most prominent if I may use you as an example. I suspect, however, that it is what Voldemort did do to acquire it that concerns you."

"Well -- I don't think he got most of it from holding down a regular job, no."

"Actually, I can personally vouch for his having earned some of it through assisting in experimental charms work for a time immediately after finishing Hogwarts and before he... disappeared. You may be aware that Harry's mother later went into the same field. I have wondered at times whether he recognized his own hand in the groundwork for some of the very spells she later developed for use against him. On the other hand, you are quite likely correct that along with that and any other period of employment, and assorted investments, many of his gains were almost certainly obtained by measures illegal or at the least unsavory." Dumbledore regarded Tom thoughtfully. "May I ask what it is you propose to do?"

"Well... since I'm sure his followers were going to use it to hurt people, I think it would be best to try and help people with it." Tom furrowed his brow. "Could I set up, I don't know, a fund for people Voldemort hurt, or their families?" The cart of account books caught his eye. "And send the Ministry copies of those, in case they can be evidence." He grinned. "As a Christmas present from me."

"You could indeed." And that was respect in Dumbledore's eyes -- wasn't it? "I'm sure the suitable departments of the Ministry would be grateful, if distinctly disconcerted. I also know that Gringotts does provide services for charitable funds, though you would most probably need to consult with other parties to direct the disbursements to appropriate recipients -- it isn't the sort of information they would have. I can assist you with finding that information." A brief pause. "I do believe that there are portions you could perhaps use for yourself without qualms -- perhaps for whatever problems you referred to solving -- but that is your decision to make, not mine, and might be best made after you are more familiar with the current disposal of the accounts."

"Maybe some of the money that came from the Charms work." Tom frowned thoughtfully for a moment and then turned to the goblins. "Director Gnashtalon? I think I'd like that explanation of the accounts now. Especially if you can explain where the money came from and who's been using the accounts."

The goblin smiled and waved a hand toward the cart of account books. "Yes, of course. I believe you will find the volume at the top of the pile, bound in blue, to be the most helpful, as it contains the index to the transaction records and a summary of the account history, and I will be only too happy to walk you through it. Most of the current income is the result of several shrewd investments, including but by no means limited to a sizeable share in Nimbus Brooms, made by a Mr. Roland Avery, your former financial manager." Gnashtalon frowned thinly. "I am afraid that Mr. Avery often chose not to disclose the sources of new starting capital; while this was certainly within his rights, it has caused a great deal of irritation among our records staff."

Tom nodded and reached a bit hesitantly for the blue tome; Gnashtalon set it in his hands (where it turned out to be even heavier than it looked) and then pointed toward the wall, which sprouted a table and two benches. With the book laid open on the table, Gnashtalon seated himself across from Tom and Dumbledore, marked his place on the page with one long finger, and proceeded to be extremely helpful with every appearance of enjoyment and no apparent difficulty in reading the figures upside-down.

After the lengthy explanation and the discussion which followed, Tom found himself the proud owner of half a vault of gold, several profitable investments including, he was pleased to note, twelve percent ownership of Nimbus Brooms, and a frighteningly thorough understanding of wizarding finance.

Gnashtalon escorted them to the front door of the bank, gave Tom his personal assurances that an appropriate fund would be organized and funded with the rest of the monetary assets, dispatched several assistants to the Ministry with copies of the account records, bid polite farewell, and left Tom standing with Dumbledore on the front steps of Gringotts Bank feeling like he'd just been plowed into the turf by a particularly urbane Bludger.

Dumbledore looked up at the sky, then down at something in his hand that looked like a cross between a pocketwatch and a very bad model of the solar system. "I believe," he remarked, "that it is time for lunch. Would you prefer dessert first, last, or instead?"

"Er..." Tom blinked. "Lunch. Right. After, if you don't mind, Professor. I think I need something solid first."

"Very sensible. This way, I think." Dumbledore led the way to a small restaurant which at first appeared not to have a name but which Tom eventually determined, after some confusion that could probably have been a great deal worse if Dumbledore had wanted it to be, was called Nothing At All. The food was very good, though the transparent floor and the space beneath it resulted in a rather disconcerting moment when Tom's chicken sandwich arrived just as a live chicken wandered through underfoot.

Tom looked up from the last of his sandwich to find Dumbledore's eyes twinkling at him from over the old wizard's napkin. He regarded Tom for a moment after cleaning the last crumbs from his beard, then smiled. "Before we go and sample some of Florean Fortescue's best, I do have one more question."

"Yes, sir?"

"When you were numbering your reasons for not accepting the money--and please believe me when I say this, Tom, that I have seldom been more proud of one of my students--you said 'no matter how many problems it would solve.' What problems did you mean?"

"Oh." Tom briefly wished he had part of his lunch left as an excuse to pay attention to something else -- though he did considerably prefer that sort of comment to the occasional whisper that Dumbledore had only let him back into Hogwarts to keep an eye on him. "Well -- things like robes, textbooks of my own... Christmas presents."

Dumbledore nodded. "I must confess I did hope that some of the money would be safe for you to keep, for those very reasons." He smiled. "Perhaps, after dessert, if you wish, we could return to Gringotts briefly and then attend to your Christmas shopping."

Tom couldn't quite help grinning back. "That would be great."

"Excellent." Dumbledore actually grinned back; it was startling, behind that much beard. "I've always loved Christmas shopping."

*****

Tom was aware, somewhat vaguely, that it might be traditional for children to have trouble sleeping for a normal amount of time immediately before Christmas Day. He had never actually experienced it himself, however, and in fact after a brief period of nerves over whether his friends would like what he had got them, he told himself that where he didn't know them well enough to be reasonably sure, he had picked out relatively safe things, and went to sleep.

He woke up much earlier than he had expected, however, because apparently Sirius was too excited to sleep and set off all the bells again.

Upon joining everyone else (without consulting the map, by this time), Tom noticed that there was an orange flying at him. As he was getting used to unruly food by this point, he caught it and continued down the invisible spiral, noticing additionally along the way that Hermione's pink bathrobe was clashing happily and enthusiastically with Weasley hair and many of the decorations, and that the tree somehow looked very proud of itself.

Sirius leapt out from underneath the couch in a state of terminal good cheer, waving a plate of biscuits and buttered rolls around carelessly and bellowing "Happy Christmas!" at the top of his lungs. Remus followed more placidly on his heels, and bid them all good morning before settling into an overstuffed armchair, calmly tripping Sirius into another one as he passed by, and asking "So, presents first, or breakfast?"

"Presents," Harry proposed, laughing. "And apparently dessert," he added with a glance at the plate.

"Proper Christmas breakfast, this is," Sirius asserted. "And of course presents first, Moony, what are we, barbarians?"

"Hungry." Remus snatched a biscuit and a roll, then flourished his wand with his free hand and sent the gifts sorting themselves politely out by recipient.

This turned out to be a fairly lengthy process, and Tom was amazed at the size of the pile that assembled itself in front of him. Gifts from Harry and Ginny he'd more-or-less expected, from hints they'd dropped. Hermione he'd been less sure of, and the bright-orange package from Ron came as a complete surprise, as did a neatly-wrapped gift from Professor Lupin and a cheerfully messy one from Sirius.

Something about the shape of that last one, underneath the odd corners of paper, looked suspiciously familiar. Tom unwrapped it and couldn't help laughing -- it was a very nice quill, and quite remarkably similar to the ones he'd settled on giving to the two adults.

Sirius eyed him quizzically. "Didn't expect to get a laugh out of that one."

"Well, open yours, then." He smiled a little uncertainly. "I think it was the next one over in the display."

"Ah!" Sirius saluted him after a moment with the feather. "Excellent taste. I've always liked this line myself."

"Glad you like it. I wasn't sure--"

Tom was abruptly cut off by Ron's whoop of joy and Harry's awed "Oh, wow, Sirius...."

If Tom had noticed the shape of the package Harry had just opened, he might have made a guess about the contents. He hadn't -- but he definitely recognized them now.

Sirius was grinning. "Like it?"

Harry spluttered. "Are you kidding? This is -- you -- a Firebolt?"

The grin broadened. "Call it making up for lost time."

Tom rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "As if it weren't hard enough already to beat you to the Snitch."

Then it occurred to him that as part owner of the company he might be able to get a discount on one of his own.

"It wasn't," Harry opined cheerfully.

Hermione interrupted the proceedings by discovering that Tom had given her a book, saying "Ooh," and opening it up to read.

"Ack! Hermione!" Ron flipped it closed, drawing an indignant squawk, and shot a mock dirty look at Tom. At least Tom hoped it was mock. "You can read after we're done!"

"It's a new one about the Patronus," Tom said. "The Hogwarts library doesn't have it yet -- wish they had, it might have helped."

Hermione looked up sheepishly. "I got you one on the Patronus Charm too -- a history of it and related spells, actually. I didn't see this one."

"I think it was only just out, actually...."

"See, this is what comes of planning too far ahead." Ron shook his head. "Bit on everyone's mind, was it?"

"More than I realized, clearly." Professor Lupin sounded somewhat amused. "I gather Harry was the only one who thought to ask me about it?"

"It's really advanced," Tom said earnestly. "I thought you'd tell me to stop."

Lupin covered his eyes briefly. "I remember that attitude all too well but cannot approve of it in a professional capacity. Sirius, don't snort. The worst hazard of the Patronus Charm, however, if studied away from Dementors, is generally exhaustion."

Hermione laughed. "We found that out on our own."

"This must have been an interesting study group. Did you ever manage it properly?"

"I can do a fairly good mist," Tom volunteered. "All the reading suggested it's quite a lot harder to call one with no imminent danger."

"True -- though conversely with a Dementor about it can be difficult to summon and hold a suitable memory." Professor Lupin eyed them speculatively. "I'd be happy to assist if any of you would like to go on with slightly more formal extracurricular training."

"Well, there's not really a need anymore with the Dementors gone." Tom grinned. "But it's really interesting, so I'd like to give it a try anyway."

"So would I," Hermione said earnestly. "It still seems potentially useful even if it isn't urgent now."

"Maybe we can make it a study group topic." Tom glanced over to Ginny questioningly. "If you want to try too, anyway. And if Peony wants to."

"That sounds good," Ginny agreed, peeling one of her own packages open without looking. Tom grinned when she did look at it and the graphorn-shaped inkwell he'd picked out grunted at her. "Oh! That's lovely."

"It's full, but it's all right if you want to turn it over. Doesn't spill, and it seems to like it if you tickle its belly."

"A ticklish graphorn?" She grinned at him. "Thank you. ...Open mine?"

"All right." Ginny's present was rather soft, and made no noise when he gave it a cautious shake; he tore open the paper to reveal a thick wad of cloth that unfolded into a green-and-silver knit scarf. A yarn bookmark in the same colors, weighted by a carved wooden Slytherin crest, fell out as he unfolded the scarf. He grinned. "This is great, Ginny, thanks."

"You have no idea how odd it felt carving that snake," she said wryly. "I'm glad you like it." Mischievously, she added, "You might need it if we get a chance for a snowball fight."

He blinked. "You made this? Yourself?"

"Oh. Yes. Mum taught me. I never practiced enough until the year before Hogwarts, though; it was odd with all the boys gone."

"Oh. Well -- thanks." He smiled wryly. "I was about to say it's the first time anyone's made something just for me, but it's the second, really."

"Is it?" She was absent-mindedly petting the graphorn, which was perhaps overly lively for an inkwell -- probably why it had been enchanted against spilling.

"Well, yeah." He shrugged. "You all made the photo album too." Tom folded the scarf carefully and then busied himself with a roll.

Ginny smiled at him; Ron, meanwhile, had unwrapped an owl perch and was regarding it with some bewilderment.

"Professor Dumbledore said you might like it," Tom said around his roll. "Maybe it's for, erm, is it Errol?"

"I think Errol would knock it over," Ron said dubiously. "You haven't seen him land, probably."

Sirius laughed again. "Professor Dumbledore is a bit of a sneak," he said admiringly, then whistled. Ron was assaulted almost immediately by a small fluffball.

"What the --" Ron flailed around and finally managed to catch hold of the little brown blur when it flew into his outstretched hand with a soft smack and a surprised hoot; it turned out to be a tiny owl, which trilled proudly upon finding itself the center of attention.

Ron blinked at it, then looked quickly over to Sirius. "This is for me? Cool!"

"He's a little flighty," Sirius said without a trace of irony, "but he's a good little owl and he'll only get better." A lopsided grin. "Thought you might like a pet again."

"Yeah, absolutely. If he's any good at mail he'll be perfect." Ron chewed his lip for a moment before suddenly getting up and, with a quelling glare for Hermione, holding out the little owl for Crookshanks to sniff. "Better get this crazy animal used to him right from the start."

Crookshanks smelled the mouse-sized owl, then half-shut his eyes, purred loudly, and strolled into Hermione's lap.

"Right, then." Ron flopped back down next to his pile of presents and regarded the owl. "What're we going to call you, then? Snitch, maybe?"

"Cute but likely to get Quidditch discussions interrupted at odd moments. Pigwidgeon?" Ginny proposed.

"No way, Ginny, that's --" Ron was interrupted as the little owl surged out of his hand and flew dizzyingly around Ginny's head before settling on her shoulder. "Oh, now you've done it. I'm not calling him any name bigger than he is. Get back here and stay on your perch, Pig."

Pigwidgeon trilled. Ginny carefully picked him up and transferred him to the perch.

Tom returned to his own gifts and managed to unwrap a book on recent Muggle history from Remus and a pair of blindingly orange socks from Ron (which proved, on inspection, to have the Chudley Cannons logo on the tops of the feet) before Pigwidgeon came over to investigate. He handed the owl back again and held up the socks. "Uh-oh. Looks like I'm being recruited."

"Yeah." Ron looked up from settling the owl again and grinned. "They could a reserve Seeker."

"They could use more than that, from what I hear." Tom grinned. "But thanks."

"They'll show everybody next year."

Ginny laughed. "You've said that every year since I can remember, Ron. They haven't yet."

"Well, this is the year!" Ron fished a scarf that matched the socks out of the wrapping paper and looped it defiantly around his neck.

Sirius chuckled. "Always had a soft spot for the Cannons myself, though I couldn't admit to it around James, of course. I did manage to wear my Cannons socks to the Puddlemere/Chudley matches, though. I think you're next, Harry."

Tom recognized the package Harry picked up next and studiously didn't quite watch as the paper came off and a warm rosy glow started to show through the tissue paper in the box.

He'd had a hard time figuring out what to give Harry. Dumbledore had been remarkably patient about wandering around Diagon Alley until the phoenix paperweight in a nest of dancing flames that didn't burn had caught Tom's eye. It wasn't, perhaps, the most practical gift possible. But it had seemed to suit.

When it caught the morning sunlight through the window, it raised its head and trilled quiet song, and Tom finally looked at Harry and shrugged. "Reminded me of September."

"That's... wow." Harry blinked at it. "...It really sounds like phoenix-song."

"That's what Professor Dumbledore said. The man in the shop said it doesn't have the same effect on people, though."

"Suppose not. But still."

Harry went over and set the paperweight carefully on the windowsill, which seemed to please it.

"It reminds me of Fawkes," Ginny said, very carefully not looking at Harry; her cheeks were slightly pink. "However did you afford it, Tom?"

"Well...." This was terribly odd to explain, somehow. "Remember that errand Professor Dumbledore came and got me to run, right at the beginning of holidays? It was to... well, to talk to the goblins at Gringotts and get Voldemort's accounts out of the hands of the Death Eaters. Most of it, I'm trying to get back to... where it belongs really, or as close as can be managed now, but it turns out he actually did do honest work for a little while." He shrugged. "So I can... pay for my own things now, and so on."

"That's wonderful." Ginny smiled. "No more library textbooks. And if anybody was still wondering if you'd turn out like Voldemort, well, this ought to show them."

Harry laughed and handed Tom a very small package. "Hardly seems like you need this now, but Happy Christmas anyway."

Tom blinked at this perplexing comment and unwrapped the package to find... a key. "What --"

"It's to here."

He blinked. "What do you mean?"

Sirius chuckled. "It's the spare key to the house. Harry thought you'd appreciate having a place to stay in case you needed somewhere to go, and no one has ever truthfully accused me of being unable to see sense, so I had another key made. We'll keep your room for you."

"Oh." It came out oddly strangled; Tom had to swallow before he could say anything else, and he wished just for the moment that he hadn't got everybody's attention with that explanation a minute ago. "I -- I do. Thank you."

"Well, we've plenty of room here." Sirius grinned. "And unless I miss my guess you'll have a few options when it comes to places to stay. This is just one of them."

He never used to. It had always been... Hogwarts or the orphanage, and Hogwarts was in some ways still a little new to him. Having people invite him home with them was different.

Especially, perhaps, after Voldemort.

"You realize," he said slowly, eyes sliding up to meet Sirius's as he turned the key over in his hand again, "Professor Snape would be horrified."

Sirius laughed. "That's a bonus." He looked around the room. "And if that's everything, we can try for a more substantial breakfast if anyone wants it."

This suggestion was met with considerable enthusiasm; Tom hesitated a little and hung back when everyone else had vanished beneath the couch.

He was... incredibly lucky, to have fallen in with this lot of mad Gryffindors who had been willing to give him a chance before he'd really had time to prove himself. He was still going to, of course; he was going to fix the eerie isolation Slytherin House seemed to have developed at Hogwarts, as well as repairing whatever he could of the rest of the damage his other self had done.

He might not, technically, need it now. But the key in his hand now meant more than the whole ring of them from Gringotts.

"Tom?" Ginny peered out from under the couch at him. "Planning to eat with us?"

"Coming." He grinned and followed her down.

*****