Chapter One: The Swiss Connection

Disclaimer: The author makes no claim whatsoever to ownership of any of the works of J. K. Rowling, Dan Brown, or the makers of the Sound of Music... for obvious reasons.

A few notes: If you're feeling in a literary mood, the author and editors recommend you read the previous fictions in the Diabolical Directorate series first. Please be warned that this story contains some mild poking of fun at a couple of nations, not to mention the HPverse et al, and there is a reference to thighs, which those of a very nervous disposition had best avoid. Otherwise, enjoy!

"Acme Real Estate, how can we help you today?"

Harry Potter put his feet on the desk and lay back in his narrow cubicle.

"Yes, we do have some excusive apartments left in our "MiddleEarth" development. We have several 150 square feet Hobbits and one luxury 900 square feet Strider still available, although they are going fast. No, I am sorry, Rohan and Gondor Towers are sold out, but we still have a number remaining in The Tower of Doom."

A long pause.

"Well, goodbye then, and have a nice day."

Cursing the idiot who had named their latest development, Harry brooded over his situation.

After the unfortunate series of events at the Academy Awards, (See Harry Potter and the Facechangers), Harry had been sued by practically the whole of the Hollywood establishment. His lawyer expected him to be cleared in time, but all his money was sequestered away until that happened.

He was still a trainee Auror, but to his infinite irritation they had put him on indefinite suspension. As for his being an Ordinary Agent of the Federal Aurors Administration, he did not think it wise to claim his pay until things quietened down.

Naturally he had stashes of galleons, dollars and sundry other currencies in various dark locations unknown to the Magic Inland Revenue, but he could not go near them with all the lawyers sniffing around. Hence the job in a call centre selling real estate to gullible muggles.

The phone rang once more and he reached for it wearily.


At lunch he made his out the front door and went in search of some greasy fast food. A fluttering of wings, and an owl perched on his shoulder. He undid the narrow strip of paper from its leg and read, " Pls cme Grngts 5.00 PM, mgr."

Gringotts still had not got the idea of text messaging.

He wrote out a reply, "cya thn", and sent the owl off.


At five he made his way to Diagon Alley. As soon as he slipped through the gap in the brickwork his hand slipped under his coat to his wand. Voldemort was out there somewhere, and it was more likely that he would come after Harry on wizard territory.

Wartknees, the senior goblin at the desk in Gringotts seemed happy to see Harry, and ushered him into a private office. The beady eyed little creature took a seat and peered at Harry over dusty pince nez.

"I have not heard anything else about your, um, legal difficulties, but I have no doubt you will prevail. A mere Hollywood attorney will be completely out of his depth in the Wizards Courts of Chancery. But that is not why I want to talk to you."

"No?"

"No. We have been clearing out some of our safety deposits over the last few months. Unfortunately the clerk in charge of the security spells died suddenly without recording the Spells of Opening, and we had a number of security measures to bypass to renew access."

He glared at Harry, daring him to comment on their ineptitude, then went on.

"When we finally got access we found a previously unlisted box in your father's name, James Potter."

He rang a bell and a minion, a goblin with heavily bandaged hands, brought in a tray with a carved wooden box on it, and placed it carefully on the desk.

"Go ahead and open it. I am afraid only a Potter can have access without sustaining severe burns."

Harry tentatively opened the box. Nothing happened, so he reached in and took out the faded piece of parchment and the tiny brass key that lay within.

"Gringütts Bank, Deposit Box Number 17775" was written on the parchment.

Wartknees beamed. "So, your father kept a deposit box with our sister bank in Zurich, excellent. I recommend that you go there immediately and check on the contents."

Harry's eyes narrowed. "That may be difficult, as I have no money. As I recall, not only have you frozen my account, but your principal security wizard cast a spell on me to make me forget my PIN number."

Wartknees swallowed, "Perhaps we were a little hasty, I can allow a small overdraft of five hundred…"

"Two thousand, and interest free." Harry commented. Obviously having a Swiss Bank account made him respectable again in the eyes of the banking world.

"Er.. two thousand, until matters become clear."