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SIYE Time:12:31 on 29th March 2024
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Spooky Entanglement
By BrianMcLyr

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Category: Pre-OotP, Alternate Universe
Characters:All
Genres: Action/Adventure, Romance
Warnings: Mild Language, Mild Sexual Situations
Rating: R
Reviews: 132
Summary: A typical redo with the tiniest of twist. Harry sends 8yrs of memories and knowledge to his 12yr old self
Hitcount: Story Total: 60437; Chapter Total: 6209





Author's Notes:
A/N I, just like you, find banking boring, but it had to be done. And I, like you, prob get a giggle from the in depth super rich recounting of Harry's accounts. But I needed the satellite properties and thought the total should balance. I wanted to do more alluding to goblin culture but decided to avoid the really boring stuff till next chapter when Harry and Remus "talk". I swear I have tried to trim it down 4 times but is still a long talk, and then in the same chapter Dobby shows up




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“So,” Aunt Petunia said with just a hint of relief showing on her face, “you are ali... awake.”

“Err...yes. I suppose I may have had a bit of a lie in?” Harry offered. He guessed it maybe mid to late morning by the light from the bedroom windows reaching the hall.

“Bit of a lie in! You laid abed all of yesterday and a good part of today. We could not touch you to wake you up so we locked the door and hoped you would not blow up with your... freaky stuff.” His aunt rather excitedly exclaimed ending in a whisper on the last two words. She turned with a huff and headed towards the stairs.

“Laid abed all of yesterday,” echoed around in Harry’s head while he stood watching his aunt start down the stairs. Harry realized that meant today was Wednesday and that his birthday was only two days off, on Friday. Two days before he turned twelve. Which also meant two days before the Dursley’s dinner party where Dobby dumped dessert atop Mrs. Whozit's head. So just two days before his Aunt and Uncle went nuclear.

Harry decided he didn’t really have time to sit and think. He could think while he took a shower and got about for the day, whatever the day needed to be.

Half hour later saw Harry, clean and presentable, in the kitchen making a cheese sandwich as his aunt sat to table with her tea. Putting away the condiments, bread and cheese Harry took his sandwich to the sink where he took a bite, chewed and swallowed a good portion of before he tried to speak to his aunt. “Aunt Petunia,” Harry started, but a pointedly raised eyebrow from his aunt stopped him, as it was very apparent he still had food in his mouth.

Harry swallowed. “Sorry,” he offered before continuing, “I had a dream.” He didn’t think he needed to explain when.

“I don’t want to hear about any of your freaky stuff,” His aunt said.

“It concerns you actually,” Harry said. “Well not the whole dream...err well ‘vision’ really or maybe ‘precognitive vision’ would sound better.” Harry smiled at his aunt but got nothing in return but a quizzical look, that Harry assumed was about the big words. “ That bit was part of the dream.” Harry shrugged. “Anyway, Friday you're having the dinner party that I am suppose to 'be up in my room pretending not to be here’ and well in my vision it just doesn’t go so well. A small magical creature pops up in my bedroom and while trying to make me do what it wants, ends up plopping the pudding on Mrs. Whatsit's head.”

“Mason. Mrs. Mason, and if any pudding gets on Mrs. Mason or Mr. Mason you will be locked in your room forever, do you hear me?” Aunt Petunia all but screeched.

“Yes I know,” Harry said with a bit of a smirk, “that was all in the vision, cat flap on the door for food, bars on the window and allowed to use the loo twice a day. Yeah I want to avoid that just as much as you want the dinner to go well. So at first I thought to suggest you take them out to dinner at a nice pub or something but, well I think instead of me being up in my room pretending not to be here, maybe I just shouldn’t be here. If I am not here I doubt the elf would come here. He’ll pop into wherever I am, and if it is a magical site, well so much the better.”

“And where will you be going?” his aunt asked him with poorly feigned concern.

“Well in my vision I was at the Weasley’s by next week and for the rest of the hols, but because of the dream I now know what I need for this year from Diagon Alley so I figured to go there first and then fire call my friend from the inn,” Harry confidently told her.

“I am not driving you anywhere, nor am I paying for anything,” Aunt Petunia asserted.

“No ma’am, I will take the ‘freaky’ transport bus to the Alley and get some ‘freaky’ money from the ‘Hogwarts orphan and poor children’s fund’ then get everything from the second hand stores like normal,” Harry tried to reply somewhat dismally. Anyone that knew Harry even only slightly better than his aunt did would have heard a hint of Harry being shirty.

Aunt Petunia didn’t take quite as long as some would to consider an all but twelve year old boy going into London alone before she gave Harry a nod and said, “Right then, call if you need to come back here before your school starts, but otherwise I suppose I won’t see you till next June.”

Harry fought to keep the smile off his face as he nodded and said, “Thank you Aunt Petunia, I hope Unc... Uncle Vernon lands the deal he is after and we get that vacation house in Majorca soon.” Smiling, Harry continued. “If you unlock Hedwig’s cage and the cupboard so I can get my trunk I will be off almost straight away.”

As Harry’s aunt got up and left the kitchen, Harry took a moment to wolf down his long forgotten sandwich before he exited himself. At the stairs he got his trunk out and drug it over to the front door. He opened it and removed his wand and his money bag, to check that he had enough for the Knight Bus. Two Galleons and eight Sickles so no worries.

With a Galleon stuffed in one pocket and his wand in the other, his trunk closed and locked,Harry raced up the stairs to get to his room just as his aunt was coming out. With a smile, a really big smile that he couldn’t keep off his face, and a nod Harry said again, "Thank you," to his aunt as he stepped into his room.

Hedwig was on top of her cage flapping her wings, happy to be free. Harry looked at her, his smile couldn’t really get bigger but he tried. "Yeah, me too. Me too Hedwig, we are both out of here. Let me write some one a quick note and you’ll be on your way," Harry told her as he sat to his desk.

Err...Harry had to write a brief letter to a person that, though Harry had seen as a friend for apparent years in his vision, didn’t know Harry at all really. And in that brief letter he had to get the urgency across that his help was needed immediately. Dear sir please come help me defeat a dark lord was not something he was going to write in a letter in any way, so maybe a little humor Harry thought.

to: Remus Lupin
from: Harry Potter

Sir, I am aware that you were a friend of my parents, and I find myself in need of some
parental advice so I thought I would write to you. You see I met this young witch, well she is
actually older then me, but still young, and we kinda ... well we got to snogging if you know what
I mean, and now, well I had heard that a girl can get pregnant from just snogging but I rather
thought it was just an old wives tail to scare kids but now I guess I need to marry her. Also is it
really customary for the groom to sign over all his wealth to his bride before the wedding?
Please if you can help me through this I would be so thankful. I think my owl post is being
stopped by an elf, not sure who’s elf, but I haven’t got any mail all summer so you may have to
come in person. I will be at the Leaky Cauldron until Saturday morning, just ask for the Potter
wedding party, we are all staying there.

Hope to see you soon
Harry

Harry folded the note and addressed it, though all Harry could write was Remus’ name as he did not know an address. Taking the letter to Hedwig, Harry tied it to a leg and then got her to mount his forearm so he could walk her to the window while he instructed her. “I doubt you read the addresses on these letters so I hope you can find Mr. Lupin without one.” Hedwig bobbed her head after Harry said that. “I hope that means yes.” Harry smiled. “After delivering that you can go hang around the Burrow and hunt all you want or you can find me at the Leaky Cauldron. Up to you girl.” Harry opened the window and stuck his forearm up and out and away went Hedwig.

Harry watched her fly off for a bit, but as he too wanted to fly off himself he shut the window and headed down stairs. “Right, Aunt Petunia, I am off now,” Harry called out as he got to his trunk and opened the door. Glancing back to the kitchen Harry got a wave from his aunt, which he returned before pushing his trunk out the door, pulling it closed behind him and marching out to the curb with his trunk where he stuck out his wand.

There was a deafening BANG and loud screeching of tires that absolutely no Privet Dr. resident seemed to hear. And certainly no one noticed the huge garish purple triple decked bus sitting in front of number 4 in the full light of day.

The spotty faced conductor stepped out onto the platform and started reading from a small slip of paper, "Welcome to the ...”.

Harry interrupted, "Hey Stan." Bending, Harry grabbed one end of his trunk and looking at Stan, said, "Lend us a hand then and we will get back on the way, ya.”

The Knight Bus was nothing but controlled chaos on wheels. Fifteen minutes, a couple of BANGS bracketing two lurches, a smash and a tumble later and Harry was stepping off the bus at the side entrance of the Leaky Cauldron.

Entering the Leaky Cauldron from the side entrance was just odd for Harry, as he knew full well that there were shops on either side of the inn, but then magic allowed for things physics did not.

Inside the pub was just as dimly lit as always with a surprisingly few seated patrons for this time of the afternoon.

Dragging his trunk over to the counter end, Harry placed two Sickles on the bar as he discussed with Tom the storing of his trunk while he visited Gringott’s. Harry also said he would possibly be renting two rooms upon his return. The hesitant look on Tom’s face, due no doubt to such a young customer, even if he was Harry Potter, didn’t diminish until Harry mentioned the expected arrival of his honorary Uncle Remus Lupin and the mention of a “probable practical prank pertaining to the Potter wedding party.”

Exiting out the back of the inn, just as he had with Hagrid the year before, Harry tapped the bricks this time himself. It did take two tries to get it right. After the bricks folded back into the archway Harry happily strolled out into Diagon Alley and headed straight towards Gringotts.

He slowed down as he came to the silver entry doors to reread the inscription there before walking in. “Enter. stranger, but take heed of what awaits the sin of greed for those who take, but do not earn, must pay most dearly in their turn. So if you seek beneath our floors a treasure that was never yours, thief, you have been warned, beware of finding more than treasure there. ”**

With three waiting goblin clerks Harry didn’t need to line up to see a teller, but just walked on up to the closer window, thinking only in magical Britain could you get service without standing in a line.

“Good afternoon, sir,” Harry offered with a smile. “I hoped to meet with my account manager if I could, please.”

Without looking up the scraggly gray and thin haired goblin gruffly asked, “Name.”

“Potter, Harry Potter,” Harry replied without any evidence of a smirk.

“Very well Mr. Potter, however the name of your account manager would be helpful as well.” the goblin all but sneered.

“Right, sorry,” Harry started then caught himself. Harry realized he had no recollection of his account manager except from his vision memory and decided that playing ‘dumb’ would be nothing more than what this goblin expected of him. “I was told I should have a manager, sir, but I don’t know who it is.”

“Very well Mr. Potter, please step back and I will go inquire into whom your account manager is and have someone come escort you to them.”The clerk said in a manner that could only be defined as subservient disdain.

Harry waited perhaps three to four minutes, after having watched his surly teller climb down off his stool and disappear behind the counter, before a goblin came out one of the many doors towards the interior of the bank and approached him. As happenstance would have it Harry recognized this particular goblin. It was he who had taken Harry to his vault last year and it was he who had helped Harry, in his vision, break into the LeStrange vault .

“Mr. Griphook!” Harry exclaimed in greeting, which brought a rather surprised look to the goblin's face.

“Mr. Potter, I am amazed that you would remember me from last year, but please Mr. is not an honorific that goblins use, Griphook will do. If you will follow me I will show you to Goldtooth’s office,” the goblin advised, turning and walking back towards the door he had come from.

Harry had to hurry after Griphook, as the goblin set a very efficient pace to get Harry to his account manager. Through a door, down a hallway and round a corner, Harry was brought into a very austere office with an older goblin sitting in what looked to be a comfortable swiveling desk chair before a large roll top desk with a very utilitarian chair on either side.

Griphook waved him into the office towards a chair while he made the introductions. “Mr. Potter this is Senior Account Manager Goldtooth."

"Sir,” Griphook addressed Goldtooth in turn, “this is Mr. Harry Potter and he requested to speak with you.”

With just a wave towards the door , Griphook was dismissed by the older goblin who waited until the door was closed and he and Harry were alone before he asked, “Young Master Potter, what would you speak with me about?” He offered a grin that displayed his moniker.

“There are a few things, Senior Account Manager Goldtooth, that I wanted to ask about, but first,” Harry extended his right hand, “it’s a pleasure to meet you sir.” Harry, having watched his older self and Goldtooth interact on multiple occasions, knew he was not a surly git of a goblin, just very focused on business. “Get to work, get to the point, get out” would be his mantra, but Harry knew he and Goldtooth had managed to get along very well, so Harry wanted to try and replicate the first meeting from his vision, or as best he could.

“Yes, yes,” groused the goblin as he quickly and briefly gave a single perfunctory shake to Harry’s hand. “Now that the human wizard social conventions are out of the way, ask your questions.” Goldtooth pointedly looked at the papers atop his desk tacitly implying he had real work to get back to.

"First, I would like to ask details about my trust vault, sir.” Harry stated, mentally cringing just a bit because he had listened to Goldtooth’s answer to this question once already sometime in a dream.

“You, Young Master,” the elder goblin stated, “have a personal vault that was opened on the first of August, 1980, by Fleamont Potter, your grandfather, the day after your birth. He opened the account with a deposit, from his account, of 50,000 Galleons. Your vault then remained static until 1991 when you personally withdrew 60 Galleons, and also a chit of 1,150 Galleons was presented and paid on the first of September for your Hogwarts tuition.

“On the first of the goblin new year, 23rd of December last year, due to a reasonable interpretation of the intent of your parents and grandparents wills, your vault was reimbursed 1,210 Galleons.” Goldtooth explained not quite completely dispassionately.

Harry did his best to express surprise, curiosity and interest hearing information that he already knew. Feigning confusion, “Reimbursed?” he asked, exaggerating the questioning lilt.

“Reimbursed, yes,” Goldtooth huffed a bit with rather evident exasperation, “ from the Potter Family Trust. A Trust created because of the tragic events that preceded the death of your parents. Your grandfather was killed in late September of 1980, and your father was named as executor of his will. Due to some confusion with the title of the Welsh property and also a false claim of lean, the will could not be executed in a timely fashion. Unfortunately, your grandmother, Euphemia, died seven months later, in April of 1981. Your father was named executor of her will as well, but with the complications already with your grandfather's will combined with having to close the two wills congruently caused neither will to be executed before the death of both your parents in late October of 1981.

“Of those listed in your parents' wills to act as executors, one was incarcerated and suspected of collusion in their deaths, one presumed dead by your Ministry and one committed to St. Mungo’s with a poor prognosis for recovery. Only one person listed by both your parents wills was available, a Mr. Remus J. Lupin.” Goldtooth continued while he started to move his hand in a slow rolling motion in what seemed an unconscious signal to himself to hurry his narrative along.

“At this time however my Overseer, Chief Account Manager Ironquill, decided to get involved due to all the complications of having four open wills. Ironquill requested a meeting with Mr. Lupin and myself, in which he suggested forming a Family Trust, consolidating all of the Potter family assets, except your personal vault, into one account, properties, investments and gold. He pointed out that the intent of all four wills was that you inherit and the minor bequests to people and charities were not significant enough that the recipients would really notice not receiving them except perhaps for Mr. Lupin himself. As we were all in agreement before the meeting was over the trust was drawn up and established.

“Ironquill is an unpaid silent officer of the trust with the power to name Mr. Lupin’s and my replacements if we are incapacitated. Mr. Lupin and I can replace Ironquill if he is incapacitated in turn. I, as the Potter account manager, was paid 1 percent of gross gains of the investments and as a trust officer that was increased to 1.25 percent. Mr. Lupin refused to accept more than 1,000 Galleons per year, and it was a fight to get him to take that.

“Now as to your reimbursement, Mr. Potter, there was a stipulation in one of the wills that you receive a monthly stipend, however it was decided the intent of the stipend would be best fulfilled by, instead, reimbursing your personal vault at the end of each year until you reach your majority. The reimbursement, Young Sir, is up to, but not more than, 10 percent of the gross gains of the Trust’s investments, but will never cause your vault to exceed the original 50,000 galleons.” Goldtooth’s hand ceased its motion as he probably hoped and assumed his narrative complete.

“What, err...” Harry pause a moment before continuing, “how much, err, I mean what is the trust worth.” Harry knew what his older self had inherited when the trust had been turned over to him at nearly eighteen and he was pretty sure he could get a spontaneous reaction without to much acting.

“As of last midwinter,” Goldtooth said as he reached across his desk, pulling a ledger from under a stack of papers, opened it and turned a few pages. “The Potter Family Trust held the title to four real properties, your parents house, your grandparent's house, a small stone cottage along the Usk river in Wales, and a 4.5 acre island in the Orkneys with, as Fleamont called it, a shepherd's shack of no mean value. Estimated worth of all the properties is 440,000 Galleons. The Trust vault holds 328,000 Galleons, 9 Sickles and 3 Knuts. Also all the furniture and personal effects from your parent's home were moved to the vault because of the lack of a complete roof on the home. There is also some jewelry that was appraised ten years ago for 3,700 Galleons. Currently the total investments are worth 311,000 and I have averaged a return of 11.4 percent over the last ten years. So, Young Wizard,” Goldtooth said as he closed and tossed the ledger on the paper pile atop his desk, “the Potter Family Trust has a total value of 1,088,700 Galleons, 9 Sickles and 3 Knuts.”

“Wow.” Harry sort of breathed. He was surprised but not just at the amount but also because of the more then 200,000 Galleon difference between this figure and the 1.3 million he had witnessed his older self inherit at seventeen.

“What else do you wish to know, young Master Harry, as I do have some work to get back to.” Goldtooth brusquely stated.

“In the personal effects and items were there any goblin made knifes, sir ?” Harry asked hopefully sounding hopeful. He knew there were not, but it was a perfect opening to segue into asking to buy a goblin made dagger.

The old account manager sat still for a moment staring at Harry before he answered, “No, Mr. Potter, no goblin weapons are in the Trust vault.” Goldtooth got a puzzled look and asked, “Not to pry, sir, but why?”

Harry sat up straighter in his chair, the conversation was now getting to one of the points he had come in the bank for. “ Well I want one, don’t I. A goblin made blade, imbued with the strongest poison possible, would be great to have if I ever again have to wrestle with a Voldemort-possessed professor. I simply want something besides my wand for protection,” Harry finished saying rather lamely he thought.

Goldtooth’s interest was obviously piqued as his attention was directed completely on Harry as he asked. “Voldemort-possessed professor?” With his eyes still on Harry, and before Harry could answer, Goldtooth had reached over to a call bell on his desk, that until then Harry had not noticed, slapping it twice. The bell’s ring was surprisingly loud.

“Yeah, well,” Harry pulled his eyes back onto Goldtooth from the still quietly reverberating bell, “Professor Quirell kind of allowed Voldemort into his heart,” Harry tapping the back of his own head, “ well, the back of his head really, and tried to steal the Philosopher’s stone. Actually I am pretty sure it was he that broke into your bank last year, trying to get the stone.”

There was a soft knock on the door before it opened, and what Harry thought must have been a young goblin, peeked in saying, “Senior Account Manager Goldtooth?”

“Yes, Hob, tell Griphook his presence is required, along with a list of all the bladed weapons that any of the Clans wish to sell or barter.” Goldtooth clapped twice and effected a shooing motion after he delivered his command, implying urgency.

The young goblin, with no more than his head poking around the door, having not even entered the room, managed to bow in acknowledgment.

“So,” Goldtooth said, “ Your last dark wizard is still floating about , disembodied, possessing people and trying to steal from Grinngott’s. And you wish a poisoned blade in case you were to physically meet him again?”

Harry nodded. “Something small that I could easily hide, I think, because if I can get some basilisk venom to imbue it with, the depth of a cut won’t mater.”

Goldtooth smiled and nodded, offering, “ Yes, Mr. Potter, goblins have long considered basilisk venom as a very efficient poison for weapons.”

Harry realized a smiling goblin is as disconcerting as a smiling dog would be; exposed sharp teeth just don’t put most people at ease.

“I thought I would stop into the apothecary on my way here to price the venom, but decided without a knife or dagger it could be a waste of time.” Harry told Goldtooth.

“Basilisk venom should well be expensive Mr. Potter. The safest way to farm it is to place a cockerel in an opaque container to hatch the serpent egg. You know the egg has hatched when the bird has not clucked nor crowed in forty-eight hours. You create noxious fumes, through any number of ways, and you get one dead baby basilisk. Of coarse it being a baby basilisk means the amounts harvested are very small, so the price will be very high.” Goldtooth explained maintaining his smile the whole while. “But don’t worry too much Mr. Potter.”

“Any idea of the current price, sir?” Harry queried.

“Current price, no Mr. Potter. But fifteen years ago a client started a basilisk ranch and ran it successfully for two years before his unfortunate death. In 1979 venom sold in the apothecary for 250 Galleons per minim. I would be surprised if it had gone up to more then 700 per minim, although,”Goldtooth qualified, “ I have been surprised before in this life.”

“A minim is a drop, right?” Goldtooth nodded so Harry continued with his question. “How many would I need for a small dagger?”

Goldtooth shrugged, “I am not a weapons master, nor in the Warrior Sect, Mr. Potter. However,” he offered, “ I think two minim would be sufficient to imbue a small dagger. Three minims for a large dagger or small short sword.”

“So,” Harry mulled aloud, “perhaps 1400 to 2100 Galleons to infuse a knife?”

“Perhaps Mr. Potter,” the old goblin responded. “But you shouldn’t worry too...”

Goldtooth was interrupted by a soft knock on the door, immediately after which it was opened and Griphook stopped in the half opened door and said, “Senior Account Manager Goldtooth.”

“Come in Griphook, and close the door.” Goldtooth said while motioning Griphook in with his hand.

“Mr. Potter, Griphook is of the Warrior Sect and as such can buy and sell weapons.” Goldtooth said looking at Harry before turning to Griphook.

“Mr. Potter desires a small goblin made silver dagger, Griphook. Preferably infused with basilisk venom.” Goldtooth finished with a hint of a smirk, Harry thought, not quite sure if goblins indeed did smirk.

Griphook seemed a mite taken back, even though he had been requested to bring a weapons list. Young prepubescent wizards seldom came in the bank to buy daggers, particularly not poisonous ones. Bringing the weapons list that he held in hand up to read, there were only three basilisk venom infused blades on the list of twenty. Two were swords but the third qualified as a dagger, though perhaps small would not be the word of choice.

“There are three venom imbued blades on my list but only one is a dagger, Master Potter.” Griphook stated. “It is twelve inches overall, with a 7 inch long, three sided stiletto blade, 5 inch handle, a flat round guard and flat round pommel. It would be considered a Rondel except for the shorter, stiletto length, blade. It was forged by Blacktongs of the Pointy Stick Clan in 1458, and gifted to Skarneck of the Crooked Moon Clan the following year. Skarneck wore it victoriously into 29 battles until in the 30th battle, when he was run over by drunken snotlings driving a pump wagon and killed. The dagger was never worn by another and now the Crooked Moon Clan have offered it for sale or trade.” Griphook looked up from his paper at Harry with a questioning face.

Harry was somewhat bemused that he was given that much information about the history of the dagger. He assumed it had to do with the respect goblins gave to weapons.

“How much?” Harry asked. He rather thought after the history lesson that ‘how much’ was kind of rude but he could think of nothing else to say.

“The Crooked Moon Clan request 2,200 galleons or a breeding herd of 12 horned, red eared cattle.”Griphook said after glancing at his parchment.

Harry’s train of thought was derailed briefly by the red eared cattle part, but 2,200 galleons and no need to buy any venom sounded like a good deal. “I’ll take it.” Harry declared.

“Mister Potter!” Goldtooth interjected, giving Harry an exasperated look. “Griphook,” he said, looking the other goblin in the eyes. “As Mr. Potter's agent I am offering the Crooked Moon Clan 1,800 Galleons for Skarneck’s dagger.”

Griphook looked at the older goblin before saying, “Senior Account Manager Goldtooth, I doubt Redhand One-Eye of the Crooked Moon Clan will except 1,800, may I have the authority to increase the offer if he refuses?”

“You have the authority to raise the offer for the dagger to 1,900 Galleons as a counter offer. ”Goldtooth told him. “ Any higher then that and you will need to return to discuss it with myself and Mr. Potter.”

“Very well sir.” Griphook said, giving Harry a slight bow and a slightly deeper bow to Goldtooth before leaving.

As soon as Griphook had left the office Goldtooth turned to Harry with a little laughter in his voice. “You, Young Master Potter, need to learn a few things about bargaining. The first price should always be refused. If you're selling, you set the price higher then you want, because it will be refused. If you're buying then obviously you need to refuse the first price because they set it high knowing you will balk at it.”

“I was just surprised and excited you had a blade that, although not perfect, fit my needs and was already infused with basilisk venom,” Harry confided.

“It’s not that surprising, truly. Goblin silver was developed 1,800 years ago,” Goldtooth apprised Harry, “and as goblins and basilisks prefer the same environs there have been hundreds of encounters. Goblins were bound to discover both the benefits of an infused blade as well as the detriments. The first infused blade was done all unknowing, 1700 years ago, when the warrior Krat’r used his sword ‘Fang’ to harvest the venom from a basilisk he had killed with a sack of roasters. Weeks later the new aspect of the sword was realized when his brother in-law fell dead from a small nick he received while sparing with Krat’r. It’s told that Krat’r was quite remorseful about causing his brother in-laws death but his wife still revenged her family by poisoning her husbands favorite dessert. The sword ‘Fang” became legendary in goblin tales.”

Harry sat amazed. Goldtooth had never offered so much non-account oriented information in the five times he had observed his older self interacting with him. Harry assumed , warrior sect or not, weapons and the history of weapons must be universally of interest to goblins.

Before the silence became uncomfortable Harry decided to bring up a subject he wanted to discuss with Goldtooth. “My uncle, sir, dabbles in the Muggle stock market,” Harry opened, “not for any great amount, perhaps a £100 every other month or so. Then he will crow or whinge to any who’ll listen about them.” Harry paused. “Are you able to invest in the Muggle market?”

“Yes,” Goldtooth easily supplied, “in fact your mother requested I buy some stock in a Muggle automobile manufacturer because she had heard a rumor they were going to buy the rights to reproduce an out of production classic called a Minny or some such. Unfortunately that all came to not and we ended up with a poorly performing stock whose sole saving grace is a annual cash dividend.”

“When Uncle gets to boasting about his fortunes,” Harry confided, “he does nothing but congratulate himself for looking into the new electronic industry and buying ‘Microfirm’ or ‘Macrosoft’ or something. Of course there was another company, named ‘Microtosh’ I think, that he rants and whinges about losing half his investment, took it up the bum, as he says, before he could sell it off. Though as I understand it, that company owns and controls the patents on its machines and programs so I would think it is just a bit of a shaky start for them.”

“Are you familiar with the Muggle electronic industry, sir?” Harry asked.

“Yes, in 1977 there was enough notable economic noise that even we goblins became aware of it,” Goldtooth admitted. “I have for some of my other clients, and for my personal account, invested in the exploding electronic and computer industry. It is a high risk , high return venture. But if you are asking if I would invest Potter Family Trust funds in that industry I am afraid I could not. The Trust has a stringent stipulation of what I, as the controller, can invest in. Any companies considered as investment opportunities must have a long history of stability in an established industry that promotes the companies continued stability for the foreseeable future.”

“Can I invest with the Galleons in my vault?” Harry tentatively asked.

“Assuredly, Mr. Potter,” Goldtooth proclaimed, “I am your Account Manager, if you tell me what you want I will take care of it.”

“Will my vault be reimbursed for the investment amount?” Harry queried.

Goldtooth remained quiet for a moment, “I am not sure Mr. Potter. We failed to address this possibility when we wrote up the Trust. Is the investment an expense to be reimbursed or an asset that would qualify for reimbursement only if it became a loss?” Goldtooth chuckled. “I shall have to confer with my co-officers and advise you of the decision.”

Harry didn’t like the idea of investing a large amount and being short of funds if he didn’t get reimbursed. “Perhaps,” Harry said, “a thousand Galleons in ‘Macrosoft’ would be a start.”

“Very well, Mr. Potter.” Goldtooth cheerily commented. “ And it is Micro I believe.”

“Pardon?” Harry asked with a slightly confused look.

“The company you wish to invest in,” Goldtooth told him. “The first part of the name is ‘Micro’.”

Harry smiled, “Yeah, them.”

Goldtooth shook his head smiling as he wrote something on a small piece of parchment. “Was there anything else you wanted to do specifically with your account today, young Sir?”

“Well,” Harry paused a bit, being caught out not expecting that question, “I was going to make a withdrawal.”

Goldtooth nodded and slapped the call bell twice and again it was surprisingly loud and continued to reverberate much longer then a bell that size should.

“How much did you want to withdraw?” Goldtooth asked as he leaned back from his desk.

Before Harry could answer there was a soft knock at the door and the young face of Hob peeked in. "Senior Account Manager Goldtooth?”

Goldtooth waved the young goblin in and handed him the slip of parchment when he got to him. “ I need this run over to Alex or Dominic at Barclay’s. And Mr. Potter wishes to make a withdrawal of ...” Goldtooth looked at Harry with a questioning raised eyebrow.

“Err... 150 Galleons I guess.” Harry stammered out.

“Have a teller fill a small extendable money bag with 150 galleons for Mr. Potter, and return it here along with the debit receipt.” Goldtooth instructed the young goblin, Hob.

With a bow to Goldtooth the young Hob was out and gone.

“You guess 150 Galleons?” Goldtooth chided. “In regards to Galleons Mr. Potter you should have known how much you wanted before you walked through the banks doors.”

“You surprised me, I had thought 100 to stay at the Leaky Cauldron and buy some cloths here in the Alley, but then I considered my school supplies and well I just hadn’t really added them up.” Harry confessed.

“But as you mentioned the bank doors, Goldtooth Sir, I was wondering about the inscription on them.”

“The thieves warning you mean? Not considering a life of crime are you Mr. Potter?” Goldtooth asked.

“No, heaven for fend no,” Harry smiled as he shook his head. “No I was thinking more along the lines of someone storing stolen property in a Grinngotts vault, what would the policy of the bank be?”

“If ownership,” Goldtooth started slowly after pondering briefly, “was irrefutable and identification was unmistakable then I am certain that Grinngotts and the Goblin Nation would both want the property returned to the rightful owner. However the item would need to be something like a large diamond, in that its history would be well documented and the diamond recognizable from its cut and facets.”

Harry smiled broadly. “I promise you Goldtooth, if I start storing stolen goods I will avoid diamonds.”

A soft knock at the door and Griphook opened it and addressed the elder goblin. “Senior Account Manager Goldtooth.”

Goldtooth motioned him in. “What did Old Redhand say.”

Griphook fully entered the room positioning himself equal distant to both occupants just off the corner of the desk. “He accepted the 1900 Galleons but he did expressed a desire to formally introduce his youngest daughter to your youngest son.”

Goldtooth nodded with a closed face, no doubt due to the personal request but the look passed quickly and he looked to Griphook and asked, “And the dagger will be here when?”

“Within the first hour tomorrow morning.” Griphook responded.

“Bring it here, to me when it gets here, Griphook, and I will transfer the funds to the Crooked Moon Clans account and inform Redhand personally. After the transfer Mr. Potter,” Goldtooth continued turning to Harry, “ the blade will be yours and you can either pick it up here or we can deliver it to you at the Leaky Cauldron before the third hour tomorrow.”

“And when exactly would that be on a normal clock?” Harry asked a little embarrassed that he had absolutely no clue.

Griphook gave a deprecating snort that earned him a reproaching look from the older goblin which brought him up short, “Sunrise starts the first hour so 7:20 would be the start of the third hour of the morning, tomorrow.” Griphook offered.

Harry smiled. “Sure, that would be fine. I was just afraid you maybe started counting the hours of the day from midnight like ...” Harry stopped to rethink what he had been going to say, “well like Muggles do anyway.”

The soft knock on the door curtailed the hour counting controversy. Hob opened the door to let himself in, announcing himself again, saying, “Senior Account Manager Goldtooth.”

Goldtooth motioned the young goblin in, after which Hob made directly to Goldtooth handing him a piece of parchment. Goldtooth offered a negligent gesture towards Harry and Hob handed him the small money bag and turned to leave. Hob gave the room in general one bow before he pulled the door shut.

“Well does that bring all our business to a close?” Goldtooth asked. “ Because I do have things to do other than procuring daggers and educating young wizards.”

Harry gave a short laugh and stood up, stuffing his small extended money bag in his pocket. He turned to Goldtooth and gave him a deep bow. When in Rome, Harry thought, do as the Japanese do. “Thank you for all your help today Senior Account Manager Goldtooth.” Harry said with as much sincerity as he could express.

“It is my job Mr. Potter, though I did enjoy most of our time today.” Goldtooth said with a formal nod from his seated position. “Griphook will escort you to the lobby.” With a bit of a shooing motion they were both dismissed from his office.

Harry followed Griphook out the door, down the hall and back to the lobby. Harry bowed to Griphook as well while taking his leave, though perhaps not as deeply as he had to Goldtooth.

“Thank you for your help this afternoon, Griphook,” Harry offered.

Griphook gave a slight bow in return and stated, “It is my job, Mr. Potter. I will bring Skarneck’s dagger to you at 7:20 tomorrow.”

Harry just gave him a nod and turning, left.

Walking down the steps from Grinngott’s, headed back towards the Leaky Cauldron, Harry couldn’t help but be pleased with how everything had gone. He had ‘procured a dagger’ as Goldtooth said, without needing to buy basilisk venom. He had withdrawn Galleons for shopping and garnered as much, if not more, information about his family trust then his older self may have known before. Of course Harry had only wanted to be officially informed of the Potter properties so it wouldn’t be suspect if he turned up at one. Goldtooth’s supposition that goblins would likely help in the recovery of stolen goods was hopeful, though Harry thought he might like to test that somehow before he addressed anything he wanted to keep secret. Harry hoped, as he neared the Leaky Cauldron, that things would continue on just as smoothly.


** a direct quote from J.K.R.’s work somewhere between the first page of stone and the last page
of hallow


A/N Recent family history: excerpt from HP wiki
Fleamont Potter, a direct descendant of Hardwin and Iolanthe, attended Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry where he was Sorted into Gryffindor house. It can be assumed that it was during his magical education that he met his future wife, Euphemia Potter. The couple's only child, James Potter was born on 27 March, 1960 into the pure-blood wizarding family of considerable wealth. Both James's parents were elderly, even by wizarding standards. They died under normal circumstances between 1979 and 1980. They died before the birth of their only grandchild Harry Potter.

**

Not sure when Jo named the grandparents, certainly not going to go in search of the interview date, but it would seem Legal informed her the names should be original, lol. Euphemia I like, Fleamont not so much.



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