Disclaimer; see Chapter one
Garret Evans and the Wizard of Idiom
Chapter 2
Goblins are Good Straight men; NOT
February sixteenth, 1986, 19:27 hours GMT.
The flight had been very long, as it turned out, and Garret was still cursing in his mind about the previous renter's lack of foresight in booking the trip. 'Three connecting flights and a layover? Good Gawd! I never wanted to go to Cancun or the Bahamas's in the first place. But if you're gonna go to there, set it up for a few days stay! Then back to Chicago? What in the Hell is up with that? I can understand stopping for fuel in New Foundland, but really… does it have to take nearly fifteen hours? I thought the trucking industry was screwed up!'
These thoughts and others were playing through the mind of the new Evans as he stood at the carousel waiting for his single bag to appear. "If it's lost, I'm going to be annoyed." He muttered to himself. He was tired from a very long and convoluted flight, which the real Garret Evans had believed would be less expensive in the long run. New Garret knew that it's always best to go for a non-stop, the price is worth it. No long lines or unexpected delays, well, fewer of them anyway.
It certainly wouldn't have taken over forty-eight hours.
Seeing his bag, Garret grabbed it and pulled. Snagging the bottom of the cloth exterior on a rough patch of the carousel and ripping it. Fortunately for him, despite the fact it was a Saturday, early evening, there were few other passengers waiting at luggage retrieval. Glancing around, he gestured with his left hand, the arm wearing the wand holster, silently casting a repairing charm. He then went to the exit of Heathrow International to see about transportation.
He did know how to apparate and make port keys, but the lack of knowing the proper coordinates for any useful locations, such as the Leaky Cauldron prohibited that. Besides, he'd found in his possession close to twenty thousand dollars. 'If I can't afford a taxi with that, I'll just walk!' He thought to himself as he stepped into the slightly overcast dusk of England.
Hailing a cab was simple enough; all he had to do was step to the edge of the sidewalk and was nearly run down by one. "Where to Guv'nah?' the Cockney voice of the driver asked.
"Just take me to the used book store on Charring Cross road would you? I don't remember the address."
"Ya sure sir? Place'll be likely closed by the time we get there."
"Yeah, I'm sure. I'm meeting some people there." Garret replied, thinking to himself, 'nosy Brit. Prolly gonna call around to his friends in the shady business that there's a possible new roll in town.'
Nearly three hours and five circles of the block later, the cabby deposited Garret at the front of the used book store and went on his merry way, happy in the knowledge that he'd managed to rip off another Yank.
Garret knew that the cabby was padding his fare and didn't bother to point out the immoral action of the driver. With the shrunken trunk full of precious metal and gems, he wasn't too concerned about his overall finances. Besides, the joke was really on the cabby. The American greenbacks he'd been paid with were based on that fractional reserve-banking thing that really did a number on actual value. Only a matter of time before it failed AGAIN. He'll keep with gold and silver from now on.
Standing on the sidewalk, Garret looked around and saw the sign for the Leaky Cauldron across the street. Waiting for the traffic to subside before he crossed, he watched the foot traffic into and out of the tavern. Even in the evening, business was a little slow. He would have thought there would be a few more wizards and witches coming in for dinner, or a drink before going home than he had seen.
Then again, he couldn't see the Alley entrance from his current vantage, so couldn't be too sure. With a sigh at what Hecate had set him up for, Garret stepped across as the traffic let up. 'Time for the game face' Garret told himself as he opened the door and stepped inside the portal to the wizarding world's largest shopping district in England. The smell of stale alcohol and tobacco smoke smashed his olfactory like a freight train impacting a boulder at full speed. He was nearly overwhelmed at first. Looking around he saw that the number of patrons was smaller than he would have expected for a Saturday. The barman was cleaning the bar and setting fresh glasses on the shelf behind.
The elderly, balding man behind the bar looked up as he closed the door behind himself and said, "Evenin' sir. Is there anything I can get for you?"
With one eye almost closed, Garret looked to the man and said. "You, my good man, look like someone who wouldn't have any bad news to impart to a weary traveler. I would like a room, on the top floor with a terrace and a southerly view. Dinner wouldn't be amiss either."
Smiling, Tom answered, "I do have a room on the top floor sir; sorry to disappoint, but no terrace or southern view. There is a view of the Alley from one room, if you'd like it. And would you like to eat down here or have it in the room sir?"
"I'll have it in my room. What room number is it, how much for the week to start and what is on the menu for today?"
"Room number fifteen, five galleons thirteen sickles for the week and mutton stew for dinner sir. Meals are included in the price of the room."
"Excellent! Where do I put my John Hancock?" Garret asked, while handing over the payment from his own purse rather then the one from the mugger.
"The registry is right here sir." Tom said, slightly bemused, having no idea who John Hancock was. He had rightly assumed that his guest meant his signature.
Taking care to be exceptionally neat with his new name, Garret signed clearly and legibly for the first time in nearly twenty years. He had decided to sign in the best possible manner in memory of a great American. He also thought he'd try to establish a personality of carefree and light hearted, with a large pinch of smart aleck thrown in for good measure. 'Hell with it, I'll just behave like a nut. These morons will accept it as eccentric; especially with what I have in that trunk.' He decided.
As he was signing his name, Garret looked up to Tom and asked, "Is there a bath and a magic mirror in the room? I'd prefer two baths, but I suppose that I could refill the tub for the second one."
"Yes sir, there is a bath for every room as well as a magic mirror in each."
"I'll take the single bath, but the magic mirror has to go. I had one back in America, durned thing was constantly going on and on about my tattoos, I couldn't stand it! I don't even HAVE any tattoos! I do have an interesting scar that looks like Minnesota. Can you remove it?"
"Could I remove your scar, sir?" the barkeep asked with some confusion.
"No, the mirror. I've grown attached to the scar. It does come in handy when I find myself in Illinois."
Still a little confused, Tom replied, "Certainly sir, I wouldn't want you to have to hear about your non-existent tattoos from one of my mirrors. They're bad enough with me, telling me I should be getting a haircut. I mean really, I'd gladly take the advice if I didn't have so little to spare! I'll have it out of the room and replaced with a muggle style before you get finished eating sir."
"Thanks. I really didn't want to be a bother."
"No bother… Mr. Evans." Tom said, after looking at the entry in the registry.
"Call me Garret."
"All right Garret. The room is top of the stairs, third door on the right. Here's your key and I'll be right along with your dinner and new mirror."
Lifting his grip, Garret climbed the stairs to the top in search of his new digs. 'Not much of a place to be so well known. Shabby and a bit run down is my take on it. Still, as far as having a temporary address goes, the Cauldron isn't too bad.' He thought as he found room fifteen.
Turning the key in the lock, Garret stepped inside and muttered "Ignacis." The lights came up and a sight that had him almost drooling in anticipation greeted him. A Queen sized bed, with a feather mattress and quilts! A four poster at that! The perfect place for warfare on Morpheous. On the far side of the room was the door to the bath and a closet. At the head of the bed was a pair of small windows that opened onto the Alley and he could watch as the people below went about their day, slow as it was at the moment. The curtains were heavy and thick, just the thing for shutting out the sights and smells of the Alley below.
Taking the shrunken trunk with his personal belongings out of his pocket as he set the grip on the bed, Garret enlarged it and began the task of unpacking a few items. Clean clothes for the next day where he would be collecting some needed information as well as getting to Gringott's to open a new vault; then off for a little shopping, maybe an Owl for personal letters, or flying squirrel. 'Now there's an idea, I could call him Rocky and get him some goggles and an aviator's cap. Rocky the Flying Squirrel post delivery. There's a novelty waiting to happen… I'll do it!'
The idea so intrigued him that he couldn't wait to get started on it. One way to rattle the wizarding world is to take the bizarre and unusual that they take for granted and tweak it into the utterly surreal. 'There might even be a few muggle-born that would appreciate the joke. Have to find a sound effects charm to replicate a jet engine.' He thought, as he continued to unpack.
He had just finished unpacking what he assumed was the prior renters favorite sneakers and jeans with a plain black Tee shirt. 'Now that won't do, that won't do at all.' He mused silently. 'Gonna have to go into muggle London for some properly printed Tee's too; now what should I have printed on the new ones?' He quietly considered barking spiders and geese under chairs, but decided against the ideas for now. They were a bit too esoteric for wizards; even muggles might not understand the references. 'I'll come up with something though, I'm sure of it… maybe something to do with lemon sherberts'?'
He was interrupted in his musing by a knock at his door and then it opened to show Tom Dodderidge with a meal in his hands and a mirror under one arm. "Let me take that from you Tom, I'm starved for real food. You wouldn't believe it, but muggle airline food has got to be the most indigestible garbage known to man, including military and hospital food. I wouldn't be surprised if cardboard tasted better. I've never had cardboard, maybe I should try it once to be sure of my comparison." He said as he took the tray from the innkeeper.
"I wouldn't know, sir. The missus and I don't get to travel very much. And we've never gone on muggle transport."
"I don't recommend it Tom, though it is more comfortable than portkeys." Garret said, as he watched the innkeeper exchange mirrors with a small amount of argument from the enchanted one. 'Who would have thought that a mirror would have pride in its job?' he thought. 'Then again, it is talking about how it enjoys pointing out visible flaws in fat women.'
"Tom Dodderidge!" the exasperated mirror exclaimed. "I've been here thirty years. You will not take me down! Where else will I find entertainment? Just last week that revolting toad looking woman was here with that odd little man that wears the green bowler. You would think he'd take off the hat while doing that… And her with the horrible pink thing she wore. It was all I could do to impart some fashion advice before they left. Would you believe they actually threatened to cast a bludgeoning hex at me? All I was doing was offering help. They didn't need to be so rude. It's not my fault they have no fashion conscious."
It was clear that if the mirror had limbs there would have been a massive wrestling match going on.
"Just shut up mirror! Our new guest has had problems with mirrors in the past, and I am tempted to risk seven years bad luck myself at this point!" Tom said by way of explanation that he was none too happy with the enchanted devices himself. After putting a silencing charm on the mirror, he turned to Garret and asked, "What time would you like to be wakened tomorrow sir?"
"Not very early Tom. To be honest, I would prefer to sleep until I wake on my own. But, since you ask, and I do have some things that need to be taken care of, if you could be sure I'm awake no later than eleven?"
"Certainly, Mr. Evans; eleven o'clock it is then. Enjoy your meal and just put the plates in the hall when you're done." The Innkeeper said as he closed the door behind himself.
Putting a warming charm on the food, Garret went to bathe.
A nice bath, a decent meal and a good night's sleep did wonders for Garret. He woke to the light tapping at the door from Tom, who let him know it was quarter to eleven. He gathered his things and performed the morning rituals that all men seem to perform. While shaving, he thought about how he would approach the Goblins. He had the feeling that he would eventually want them on his side in any conflict that might arise.
He knew it wasn't something normal for humans and Goblins to be friends, especially since the Goblin Accords of sixteen-twelve. He knew he'd figure something out though. He'd always been able to at least make friendly enemies, if not outright friends with people most would have considered unapproachable. It was a talent his mother had instilled in him in the other life that had belonged to him. The family credo had been 'there's no such thing as a stranger, only a friend ya ain't met yet.'
After taking the time for a small brunch of toasted finger sandwiches and coffee, Garret found his way to the back of the Cauldron, facing the blank wall that was the concealed entrance to Diagon Alley. He tapped the bricks in the proper spots with the tip of his wand and watched as the bricks slid and shifted, forming the arched doorway. Doing his best to take the pathway in stride and appear as if it was normal, he set foot in the wizarding world proper for the first time.
The shops were something to behold, even with the small crowd of shoppers that were out. He couldn't claim to recognize all of the shops he could see. As they weren't described in detail in canon and there were a number that appeared to be completely forgotten about by canon. He could say that he had a (very) minor familiarity with Diagon Alley from his reading.
As a result, he knew just where he needed to go first. It was a good thing it had been described as a big snow white building. Gringott's, the Wizards Bank, where vault 687 patiently awaited the eventual arrival of Harry James Potter for his first year at Hogwarts. And the infamous vault 713, where the Philosopher's stone would be kept briefly at the same time. Vault 711 holding Harry's inheritance from his dogfather.
And currently, vault 529 holding Bellatrix LeStrange's fortune and the Hufflepuff cup.
Pausing for a moment in thought, Garret thought about the ways he would have to go about obtaining that particular artifact. He had no desire to break in and ride a dragon out after stealing the goblet. That would be a sure way to antagonize the Goblins, definitely not on his to do list. 'Never make an enemy of the people that watch your gold for you,' would be a good axiom for the Wizarding world to follow.
Too bad the wizards were so blatant in their idiocy or they would understand that particular philosophy. But, he wasn't there to debate with himself over the shortsightedness of the wizarding community; he was there to open a vault. Walking through the main doors of the bank, after it was held open by a Goblin guard; Garret approached the first teller that seemed to be less busy than the rest.
While waiting in line, he checked his pocket to be sure the trunk that Hecate had given him was with him, along with the file folder of information from the investigators real Garret had hired. After an interminable time, the teller finally called him up, "Yes, what might I do for you human?" the teller asked in barely veiled contempt.
Looking at the nameplate on the counter before him, Garret read, 'Knutpincher; Teller Third class.' and thought to himself about the name of the poor being in front of him. 'Knutpincher… I'm glad my parents weren't Goblins.' As he said, "Yes, Mr. Knutpincher; I was just down the way at Flourish and Blott's; perusing the dusty tomes therein. When I came all over peckish, whereupon I ceased my literary search and strolled here to your establishment, where I would like to pick up a light snack of cheesey comestibles."
"You are aware that this is a bank and not a cheese shop?" Knutpincher asked with one eyebrow raised at the strange human before him.
"As a matter of fact, I am. You had to ruin a good bit didn't you Knutpincher? Well, since you won't cooperate with me, I shall just have to ask about opening a new account."
Seeing that the human was truly lucid and aware of his surroundings, the Goblin asked, "Very well, how much will you be depositing to open your new account?"
"You see, that's the problem. What I have to deposit is more of the unminted variety and would need to be sold first in order to have galleon's with which to put into a vault, thus I find myself in a bit of a dilemma regarding it."
"Do you have the 'unminted' materials with you sir?" came the question with a tiny bit of surliness added.
"Yes, I do. But, I'd rather not enlarge the trunk in public. There might be a bit of a ruckus started if I were to do so."
"Follow me then." The Goblin said with a resigned sigh. Couldn't humans be more cooperative and just do what was asked at the counter, rather than waste time and money by forcing teller's to take them to the private meeting rooms for trivial matters? Knutpincher was certain that the human following him would have a few pounds of gold bars and believed he had a good deal. The human seemed different than the rest of the wizards that frequented Gringott's on a daily basis. But he wouldn't be too surprised to find that this human was just as impatient and obnoxious as the rest.
Knutpincher held open the door for Garret and they both entered the private general use office just off the main Lobby. Once the door was closed securely, Garret reached into his pocket and set the shrunken trunk on the floor. "Before I do anything, I want to impart that I will need to draw my wand in order to enlarge my trunk. Will drawing my wand be alright while in Goblin territory?"
"We are well aware of the sizing charms wizards use, rest assured, if you point the wand anywhere but that trunk, you will be dead before you can make it to the door." The Goblin snarled in impatience.
"Good to know that Pinkerton's has nothing on Goblin security. Maybe you guys should buy them out."
"Just get on with it human, time is valuable!" the Goblin said with an even more impatient response. Garret was doing his level best to annoy Knutpincher. He had already decided against asking that one to take over the responsibilities for managing the new Evans Family accounts. Maybe he'd be lucky and find a Goblin he recognized from his reading. That would be humorous in the extreme he thought. He just hoped that it wouldn't be Lightfinger or Snatchwallet. Those two were certainly thieves. He wouldn't even consider Griphook, the traitorous little bastard.
"Very well, I just wanted to make sure it was okay before I did anything. But since you've said it is, here goes." And with that, Garret gestured with his wand and tapped the trunk, which then began to expand in size from the Barbie Playhouse version into the full sized, extra large Steamer Trunk you would have seen someone like Molly Brown using at the turn of the twentieth century. He stepped back as the trunk enlarged to normal size and waited for the Goblin to gesture to open it.
This was the first time that Garret had opened it since he had received it in a moment of needing to be in a hurry, and then once he was in England, he had been too worn out to bother. It was all he could do to keep his own surprise off his face when he opened first one compartment and then the next. The Goblin standing behind him gasped at the sight of so much gold in the first compartment, and then nearly choked when the second was opened.
Clearly doing his best to be friendly toward Garret, Knutpincher caught his breath. "If you can wait a moment, I must retrieve a manager. I do not have the authority to act on such a large deposit." He explained.
"Sure, go ahead. I have plenty of time."
Garret took a seat in one of the chairs that he'd turned to face the trunk. 'Holy mother of Donald Trump! Hecate wasn't joking when she said it was a lot of gold!' he thought to himself as he waited the return of Knutpincher and a manager. His wait wasn't very long, who would have thought that a Goblin could run that fast with those tiny little legs? It was barely two minutes before the door re-opened to reveal Knutpincher and another Goblin that Garret liked the look of immediately. As far as Goblins were concerned, this one was very handsome for his people; the spiky hair was well looked after, while the craggy face was almost gentle looking. The eye's held intelligence that warned that he would be very happy to rob you blind.
The Goblin held the demeanor of your average sleazy used car salesman. 'This is the kind of person I can work on… with, that's right, with!' Garret proclaimed to himself.
'With a face like that, who'd not want to run for the hills protecting their valuables all the way?'
The Goblin approached him and turned to look into the trunk, which Garret obligingly opened both compartments again for viewing. He then pulled the drawer with the gems open and the new Goblin gasped silently. Garret was hard pressed not show his own surprise at the amount of raw gems. "Mister…" The Goblin began.
"Evans, Garret Evans."
"Mr. Evans, my name is Grabpockets. This is rather a substantial amount to be depositing in such a form. I assume that you would wish to have some galleons available for purchases from your vault?"
"You assume rightly Mr. Grabpockets. How would we go about exchanging my gold bars into galleons?'
Taking a seat behind the desk, with Knutpincher standing beside him, Grabpockets spoke, "We, Gringott's, would buy the gold from you to have it processed into galleons for later dispersal into the economy Mr. Evans. The gemstones would be another matter; we could buy them as they are, or, have them appraised and then have them cut for you, which will of course be charged back to you for the work involved. Or we could leave them as they are until you decide what you wish to do with them. I would recommend that you retain them for now as they are."
Nodding his head at the advice, Garret replied, "Thanks. That's the kind of advice I would like to have regarding my money. Mr. Grabpockets, what are the bank policies regarding single manager appointment to an account? I wouldn't like to have a different manager every time I come in for some account maintenance."
"Normally the Director of the Bank and the Goblin Council would appoint a manager to an account. That is normally. With such a large initial deposit, it is within the scope of the new account holder to ask for a particular Goblin to oversee his accounts. At this point, it is up to you as to how we should approach the issue. There is no advantage to choosing a Goblin over having one appointed by the Council however, apart from a minor familiarity to start."
"In that case I would like to ask for you to be my account manager."
"Why me, as opposed to Knutpincher here?"
"I like your face Mr. Grabpockets. Knutpincher looks like he would be willing to bear my children. You look like you would be more willing to turn my deposit into real money."
"Mr. Evans, I should point out, that your deposit is valued as 'real money' as you put it already. If we were to place this amount of gold into the economy immediately, the value of a galleon would plummet. We shall have to put it into circulation slowly, to allow the economy to absorb it rather than disperse it whole.
I thank you for your choice to have me as your manager and advisor. Knutpincher, you may leave now."
Knutpincher left with a small amount of grumbling at his misfortune of still not having an account to manage. Never coming to grips with the fact that while being surly to wizards is an enjoyable pastime, it doesn't help when a large depositor is choosing who is going to look after his money.
"Now that Knutpincher is gone, Mr. Evans, what is your real reason for choosing me over Knutpincher. I could very well be assigned to another account already, or accounts, making it more difficult to take care of your banking needs."
Garret scowled in thought for a moment, and then said, "I'm sure Knutpincher would be a good account manager, but he had claimed to not have the authority to handle the transaction as it was posed, and left to get you. I am operating on an assumption that he wouldn't have gone to an active account manager for this. I could be wrong, but, if you are working with active accounts, I am more than willing to accept whatever manager the Council appoints."
Grabpockets grimaced in what passes for a smile on a Goblin and said, "An appointee by the Council is unnecessary Mr. Evans. As you have guessed, I have no current active accounts for which I am responsible. This means that I am able to take your account on and oversee it. And with the amount of galleons represented here in your unminted gold, it appears that I may be very lucky indeed and only have your account to handle. Unlike many of the smaller accounts that receive the attention of a manager, your account will be large enough to require full time attention.
Assuming you desire to invest your holdings, I can foresee a great boon to us both. Unfortunately, the amount of gold you have brought in today represents a good deal more than we have currently available in minted coin to purchase from you. How would you like to proceed Mr. Evans?"
Giving it some hard thought for a few moments, Garret said. "To be perfectly honest, Mr. Grabpockets, I have absolutely no idea how to begin. Investing has always been a little bit of a mystery to me and I just wouldn't have the foggiest idea how to start… I really don't care where you invest, as long as it is legal and earns more money. As far as the converting my gold into galleons, I'm more than willing to allow you all the time you need in order to work it into the economy."
"Very well Mr. Evans. Where may I direct Owls in order to reach you?"
"I'm staying at the Leaky Cauldron for now, room 15. Could you have some of this converted into muggle currency as well? I'm going to need to look into buying a house and I would rather live in the muggle side."
"We could do that. Or we could establish an account for you with the Bank of London. We own it you see, and any purchases you would make with that account, checking, credit and debit cards would be reflected through your Gringott's account. You would only have an account with the Bank of London on paper, so to speak. You would even receive a monthly statement from them if you like."
"Oh! That is a tremendous convenience Mr. Grabpockets! Thank you. It'll save me no end of headache setting up a muggle account and then trying to buy a house. At least the financial side will be a lot easier."
"Mr. Evans, Gringott's is a full service bank. When you find the home you wish to purchase, bring me the paperwork and we will obtain the home for you. This is a service we here at Gringott's reserve for our larger depositors. To date there are only ten or so, with you joining their ranks, I can extend this privilege to you."
"Thank you. I'd always wondered what it meant when people spoke of Gringott's being a 'full service' bank." Garret admitted.
"We have an extensive list of services available to our depositors Mr. Evans."
"In that case, I have something I would like to bring up Mr. Grabpockets. You see; I recently found out that I have family living here in England, and I already have had some investigators look into it. They have provided me some information that I would like to have verified. Is it possible to have Gringott's do this for me?"
"Of course, Mr. Evans, of course, it merely costs money. All our services have a price, but with the amount you are depositing, the price will be minimal in comparison. In fact I could probably have it considered a free service for such a large depositor."
With that admission from the Goblin, Garret reached into his pocket and brought out the shrunken folder that held the information that the previous entity known as Garret Evans had collected. He tapped the folder with his wand and it expanded to its original size. He then handed it to Grabpockets with a toothless grin.
"Thank you for being willing to help out Mr. Grabpockets! I'm kind of excited to finally meet the sisters I never knew. I hope it doesn't take very long for you to find them for me. I was born here in England, but I grew up in the States. My dad never said anything about mom or the girls, at least to me. I didn't find out about them until after he died and I was going through his papers."
"This sort of situation does happen fairly often Mr. Evans, I anticipate the investigation to take no more than a few weeks, certainly no more than a month or two. I will keep you informed as to our progress. With the information you have provided it may even take less time."
"I truly do appreciate this Mr. Grabpockets." Garret smiled.
"Think nothing of it Mr. Evans, Gringott's is more than pleased to extend the service." Grabpockets straightened the papers in the folder and looked up into the face of his new client. "Will there be anything else today Mr. Evans?"
"I was hoping to buy a few books, and possibly go into Muggle London to buy a vehicle. Would it be possible to have some money made available to me for those purposes?"
"Of course. I will have five percent of one of these compartments converted to galleons immediately Mr. Evans. If you can return after an hour or so, I will have your account information brought to you, both of your accounts, muggle and Gringott's. This information will include a checkbook for the Bank of London and your cards, as well as the deposit book. I hesitate to have any more than five percent of one compartment converted to currency, even that five percent would be a very large amount. In fact I would recommend you keep most of your gold as it is for now.
As I said earlier, in your possession there is enough gold to disrupt the economy to a degree that would take the better part of ten years to absorb. If we trickle it into the system over time, probably the same length of time, it would harm nothing and would allow you more control over it."
"Whatever is most practical Mr. Grabpockets, I really have no urgent need for that much gold to be made available as currency. Although it might be fun to roll around in it, I see no point in doing so." Garret admitted. "Oh, by the way, I will very likely be making other large deposits sometime in the future, nothing like today. What I expect to be depositing is already minted and in the economy. So I don't think it would impact anything.
I have some holdings back home that are being sold for me and the payments will be sent to me by Owl in more shrunken trunks. I have no idea how much it will be at this time, the broker is selling it all on consignment."
"I hope the broker is trustworthy Mr. Evans." Grabpockets said as they both stood.
"I believe he is Mr. Grabpockets. If not I can always hire Gringott's to show him that I am unhappy with his results?"
"The account information will be here by the time you return Mr. Evans, and I will have a moke skin bag with five thousand galleons brought to you immediately. I must now go and begin the process of obtaining a vault for you and tying it to the Bank of London account, it should not take more than the time required for you to have a meal. If you could return this afternoon, everything regarding your accounts will have been taken care of." Grabpockets said as he placed some documents before Garret.
"Thank you Mr. Grabpockets. You have no idea how much this takes off my mind… What will be done with my trunk and gold that hasn't been converted?" As he signed the contracts laid before him by the Goblin, reading them, Garret could see very little difference between them and bank contracts he had read in his home reality.
"The trunk with the remaining gold and the stones will be placed in your new vault, unless you had another need for it? The Goblin asked.
"No, I was just curious. The trunk was a gift and I'd like to keep it safe. I probably will never see that friend again and every little thing matters you know."
"Of course Mr. Evans. The amount we have discussed will be converted into galleons and muggle currency by the time you return from your meal."
With that the Goblin left to carry out the task of changing the bars into Galleons and establishing the accounts for his new client. Garret waited only as long as it took for the moke skin bag to arrive before he left himself. He wasn't especially hungry at the moment, and decided he'd have a slightly larger meal that evening rather than have lunch. It was more pressing to obtain a few items of useful nature before he enacted his admittedly nebulous plan of proactive retribution on the Wizarding world.
Items like potion's kits, post owl charm books and related reading among them, along with a library and items trunk. Garret already had a trunk packed full of his worldly goods, but having one dedicated to his collection of useful would be more practical. He made sure he obtained several books on Cursebreaking, Occlumency and a raft of wizarding children's books. Harry's scar would have to be addressed fairly soon after all, as well as his education of things magical.
Proactive revenge on behalf of Harry Potter would be entertaining he thought. He couldn't wait to get the kid under his wing. Unfortunately, he had to. There was no need to advertise his presence to the more powerful pieces presently on the board.
Pieces like Dumbledore, Snape, Lucy, and Fudgepacker.
Not directly anyway. Anonymous owls would be very useful. He stopped at the stationary shop and picked up several rolls of parchment and a box of dicta-quills along with a few standard quills and ink. He shrank the purchases and went on. 'Better be sure to stop at a muggle stationary shop soon, and pick up some calligraphy pens. Quills will just wear out way too fast. And brass will take enchantments much easier.'
He had an idea he was going to experiment with later. A nearly flawless way to forge handwriting by using the dicta-quills or calligraphy pens. He'd have to try to obtain a few samples of the handwriting of certain key obstacles to Harry's happiness. Garret was fairly sure that Dumbledore, Snape and Lucy would be simple to get samples of. Others like Fudge, Umbridge and Molly Weasley wouldn't be as easy, but not impossible. Given the poor security in place at the Ministry he felt he should be able to get samples from nearly every witch and wizard in England if he wanted.
Garret shook his head ruefully at the thought of trying to hear the voice of every witch and wizard once and keeping them sorted in his mind. He felt he'd have a few mainstay voices to use for his idea and possibly a few more for impersonation. Keying the talent that Hecate had adjusted to replicate everyone would be too much he thought. It was a good thing he actually had to 'switch on' his hearing to pick up subtleties and inflections, otherwise he'd be using a different voice every time he opened his mouth.
Besides, it's always better to do a few things really well rather than everything badly. Luckily, he'd also seen the Potter movies and, after meeting Tom Dodderidge and shopping in Flourish and Blott's, Garret felt certain that the voices he'd already heard from the movies would suffice for the most part. From what he could tell, all the people he could see around Diagon Alley were living examples of the wizarding world as portrayed by actor's back in his home reality.
He began to truly look forward to playing with the minds of so many nitwits. Garret also began to wonder how much he should change for Harry ahead of time. As much as it pained him to admit it to himself, Garret knew he shouldn't alter too much. Otherwise events would spiral out of his control and he'd lose the advantages of his knowledge of coming events. Change one sentence in a script and the whole dynamic could change beyond recognition. Then again, gleefully tossing a few hands full of sand into Dumbles gears would be very entertaining. He then remembered that the future events were completely different already with the mere fact that Lupin and Black were already dead.
Future events as he knew them would only be a possible guideline, and that would be questionable at best. 'I suppose I can go wild and damage all of them as much as I like without worry in that case.' Garret admitted to himself with an immature twinkle that promised mayhem in his eye.
Musing on what he was going to accomplish in secret, and what he could get away with in the open, Garret window shopped until it was time to return to Gringott's for his papers and Vault Key.
When he retrieved the Key, Garret asked Grabpockets how he could go about making the Key secure to where only he could use it. This resulted in learning that while simple to make this happen, most magicals either didn't think of it, or were too afraid of pain. All that was required was a drop of blood taken from the marrow of the owner. This would prevent anyone other than the owner of a Vault, or his descendants and Goblins for account maintenance, from using the Key. Those Goblins would be answerable to the Account Manager.
Goblins apparently are the authority on Blood Magicks in the world.
Garret agreed with the assessment that Grabpockets had made concerning this particular security measure. When the two of them secured Garrets key with his Blood, it hurt like… 'I have nothing to compare it to!' The recent wizard decided. Even saying it hurt like HELL was too mild. 'Maybe, hurting like a triple by-pass and four root canals without sedation performed through my left foot?' After that, Garret decided that once was more than enough. Goblins don't use anesthetic. 'At least it was over quick!' Garret thought.
The following days were spent by Garret buying a black Land Rover and obtaining the proper British licensing to operate it on the English roads. And house shopping. He'd found a small agency in the outskirts of London that managed to have a large listing of available homes. After some minor deliberation and driving back and forth between the three finalist houses, he had decided on a two story home in Kensington that was within walking distance of one of the higher quality schools, provided the child passed the aptitude tests.
'Damned silly socialist belief systems!' he thought to himself. 'If I trusted my own skills as an educator I'd home school the kid myself! I'll just have to make sure he knows to not take everything said as gospel. Maybe I should hire tutors?'
The house was in a quiet neighborhood with several other houses of the same value. It was a moderately wealthy area with a park centrally located between the school and the housing district. There were shops within minutes of the house and plenty of children in the neighborhood so Harry could have opportunity for friends.
The Goblins were true to Grabpockets word. In no time at all, the house had been purchased in Garrets name and fully furnished. While the movers were busy moving in the furniture and the interior designer was establishing the feel and look of the individual rooms, Garret busied himself in the backyard with lumber and tools he'd bought. In his previous life he hadn't had one, but he always felt that a kid, especially a boy, needed to have a backyard fort, if not a treehouse. Sadly, there were no trees large enough to build the treehouse, but he could build the fort.
It was during one of the many explorations of the muggle-shopping district that Garret found some interesting items in a collectibles shop. For those not in the know, a proper collectible shop is not one where you find 'really valuable antiques for sale at a pittance because the owner is a moron'. A proper collectible shop has stacks and stacks of old comic books, board games like Dungeons and Dragons and a wall 'o' anime. Usually along with the wall of anime, they will also have action figures based on the characters from anime and manga on display for sale.
The specific shop Garret had stumbled over was a gold mine of forgotten memorabilia from ages past and present. Not only did they have action figures from Ranma and Sailor Moon, they also had the limited edition collectibles of live action TV from the States, such as F-Troop, Get Smart and Wild, Wild West, to name a few.
Seeing these dolls, Garret began thinking of something devilish to put them to use. Of course the figures would need a special boost of magic from a blood/clay mixture he'd have to make. He really didn't want to use his own blood for that. Animal blood wouldn't be as good as human blood, but Wizard blood would be best. While he was thinking on the recipe for the clay, he caught himself wondering what had possessed the previous renter to study old voodoo rituals and Hebraic magic. Shrugging his shoulders, Garret went on happily constructing the list of materials that he would need.
'Mebbe I'll be lucky and run into Thorfin or one of the Carrows for the blood!' He concluded.
But engorgio'd plastic golems with clay hearts weren't going make themselves. In a fit of silent giggles, Garret purchased several Happosai, a small handful of Maxwell Smart and a pewter jabberwocky… he needed a paperweight for his desk.
In fact the thoughts of the action figures brought the stirrings of a plan to storm the Ministry building. 'I'm gonna have to find an animation spell that also gives some autonomy to the mannequins.' Looking at one of the ninja suit clad miniatures of Happosai, he thought to the little figure, 'Happy, your 'silky darlings' are just going to have to be replaced with something a bit shinier.'
The action figures would do wonders for causing diversions and distractions, having people look other directions than where he happens to be. Making the purchase of the few items, along with a few of the older comics on display, Garret left, whistling 'If I only had a brain' from The Wizard of Oz jauntily.
The next evening, a certain grungy wizard was found completely unconscious on the steps of St. Mungo's, suffering from a massive blood loss. Mundungus Fletcher was quarantined for the next fortnight under suspicion of being the victim of a vampire, and then arrested after for having stolen goods on his person. The quarantine happened mostly because of the presence of two puncture wounds on the drunkard's neck. On a side note, Garret truly hoped the alcohol level contained in Dung's blood wouldn't cause problems with the clay he would mix it with.
Seven days later the Auror on duty over night at the Ministry would report that two suspicious individuals had arrived, one of them breaking into the Department of Mysteries and absconding with every last Time Turner on the premises. Along with all the Time Sand and documentation, loudly proclaiming "What A Haul, What a Haul!" Before disappearing in a flash of green fire in one of the deactivated floo's. Later magi-recordings of the night in question would show that just before he disappeared he shouted 'Tendo Dojo!' before swirling away. This was an unknown address and when the DMLE attempted to follow to the address it had apparently been closed down.
The other individual was a muggle, this one they were able to get a name on. Maxwell Smart, some sort of American special agent. The Auror on duty tried to apprehend him as well. But the strange muggle stepped to the side at the last possible moment and then said, "You missed me by that much!" while holding his thumb and forefinger a fraction of an inch apart. He then punched the Auror, who fell to the floor, and fled through the Ministry lift to the phone booth, where he promptly also vanished. No one would ever connect the tiny figure of a man in the alleyway to the tuxedo-suited individual that called himself Maxwell Smart.
All in all a pretty bad night for the lone Auror guard posted at the Ministry. Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt, a seven-year veteran in the service, lost two stripes for his failure and sent to remedial Auror training with a warning that the next time it would be the sack.
The magi-recorders never detected one other presence within the Ministry that night. That would be for the simple fact that he was under a powerful invisibility spell and a wide range of muffling and silencing charms. When Garret released the Happosai golem, it was with the clear knowledge that the moment the preprogrammed figure would follow it's script and be reduced to a swirling mass of green fire with the trigger phrase 'Tendo Dojo'. He had no remorse over the loss of the golem. And there certainly was no loss of the terribly useful items called Time Turners. While the diminutive representation of a little pervert from Japan was making a spectacle of itself, Garret was in the process of collecting the Turners and all the Time Sand, the scrolls and books for the construction, repair and maintenance of the items. He promptly used one to spin back two hours to watch his handiwork in the upper halls.
He thanked Hecate and whoever might be listening for the silencing charms; otherwise he would have been caught. His sides hurt from laughter as he watched the ninja clad near dwarf bouncing around the Atrium like a demented Ping-Pong ball, dodging curses and stunners right and left. If the thing had been a real person one would think it nervy to actually leap to Shacklebolts bald scalp and kick off hard enough to slam the burly black man into a wall. This tactic was intended to anger the man and it succeeded beyond anything that Garret had hoped for.
And while Maxwell was being chased all over the upper part of the Ministry, Garret was in the Hall of Prophesies.
Anyone that might have been able to hear him would have thought it odd for the man to be talking to himself. Garret had a bad habit when it came to self conversation, in his previous life when others had pointed it out, he would only say that it was the most intelligent discourse he'd had all day. Of course this would annoy whoever had mentioned it. Which was the point behind Garrets retort. "Now, lemme see… silly thing is in the nineties if I remember correctly." His soft voice reached only his ears.
Grinning a bit like a lunatic, Garret arrived at his destination and reached for the sphere as he said. "Yep, thought it'd be in the nineties." He stayed his hand before it touched the crystal surface of the Prophesy Sphere. "hhhhhmmmmm… From S.P.T. To A.P.W.B.D.; Dark Lord and (?) Harry Potter. Goofy old fart! If fumbles hadn't answered the stupid press with his suspicions and just said the kid had survived the destruction of his home, the entire thing would have been a lot easier on Harry. But NOOOOOOOOOOO, he has to come out and say something ridiculous, 'Voldemort was defeated by Harry Potter', That just reeks of idiocy.
Wonder what was going through the old Nellie's head when he made the statement?" here Garret paused for a moment and then said, "Prolly not much, as his autonomic functions were struggling for a breath until he farted! Idiot old manipulator..."
Garret then placed his hand on the smooth surface of the sphere and grasped it. He tried to lift it, but the object wouldn't come free. At this point he was tempted to just destroy the damned thing. But he remembered that old Fondlesmore had heard it originally and kept a copy of his memory in a bottle in his Office. Taking a breath, Garret addressed the sphere, "Look, I understand that you really should only be taken by a principle that you are about, I really do. But you have to understand. I'm Harry Potters real Uncle and I promise to give you to him when he's old enough to deal with it. Now you can come quietly, or I can just go ahead and reduce you to splinters and leave the fake like I planned."
He hadn't taken his hand from the globe and tugged it again after he'd spoken. There seemed to be some reluctance on the part of the Prophecy Sphere, but it left the niche and settled into his hand without any further difficulty. After putting it into an enlarged pocket in his black duster, Garret summoned an empty sphere from the rack near the far wall and thought about what he was going to use to replace the real one.
At the time it would become an item of importance, Voldemort would be quite annoyed with Luscious when he was treated to Monty Python performing the fish dance and the "Dead Parrot Sketch".
Leaving the Hall of Prophesies, Garret found his way to the Veil room. Here he took some magical scans of the Veil and recorded his results in a little fat notebook he pulled from another pocket of his duster. He had some ideas about setting some special wards into the frame that would act as a magnet for anyone marked, sucking them into the void on the other side and cleaning the wizarding world up a touch. That would require some reading to accomplish however. He had a few years in which to play around with wards. In fact, he knew where there would be two unwilling guinea pigs maybe three for his tests.
"Snidely, and the rat… oh, am I gonna have fun at YOUR expense."
By the time he was finished with everything he was needing to do that evening at the Ministry, the building was fairly crawling with blue robed Aurors and one of them looked to be chewing the ears off Shacklebolt. With the general noise level being quite high, the sounds of the lift door opening were well covered. A parting shot as a gift to Shacklebolt was an annoyance jinx cast on the superior that was raking him over the coals. The following days and weeks would show a decided tendency of people avoiding the man, and never shaking his hand.
It seemed he was completely unaware of his near constant rubbing of himself. Over time, people assumed that Rufus Scrimgour was just a disgusting man and mostly ignored him. It was then that his political aspirations became impossible to achieve.
Garret almost felt sorry over what he was responsible for when he eventually found out about poor Shacklebolt. Almost, he then remembered all the times that Shacklebolt could have done the right thing regarding Harry and turning in Dumbledore to the Director of the DMLE when he became aware of the kids home life. After he remembered that, he couldn't be bothered for feeling guilty. If it had been Tonks he would have felt like a right royal heel. She had only been a junior Auror at that point and easily manipulated not being that long out of Hogwarts.
For some reason he couldn't bring himself to put any blame on some of the peripheral characters, while others he could pile a lot onto. As a result, Garret tried not to think too much about them. He tried to refuse to feel guilty when he had an idea to prank the life out of one of them. It wasn't like he was actually going to kill them, just wreck their careers. Or in a few cases, ruin their home life as well… Luscious and Corncob were going to rue the day they'd been born.
One morning, around a week after his assault on the Ministry, Garret woke thinking to himself that he ought to do something that the previous renter might have done in the same position. Even though it was a tad early, not having received any confirmation from the Goblins yet. But he had an almost palpable urge to visit the small cemetery in Godric's Hollow.
Wandering about the house he'd purchased through the Goblin's, Garret argued the pros and con's of this hypothetical visit to the grave of his dead sister. Lily Evans Potter, the sister who would have turned out to be his favorite, if he'd actually been Garret Evans. He couldn't shake the feeling that she would have accepted the sordid history of the real Garret and the circumstances of his birth. After quite awhile of talking to himself about it, Garret finally succumbed to the need to slake his curiosity and just go.
Andy Tonks was in her back garden working with her tulips when she heard the unmistakable sound of someone apparating out. She wasn't at all surprised to find that it was her newest neighbor, as the sound had originated from over the fence that separated the two gardens. She'd noticed that he was a wizard, but surprisingly dressed in a much better fashion than other wizards do when it came to muggle clothes. He didn't appear as some sort of homeless oddball in his clothes like other wizards do. Despite the odd legends he had printed on the majority of his tee shirts. This made her assume he was a muggle-born.
Andy was also quite taken with his accent, ever since he had moved in she made a point to try to find out more about him, especially since he'd spent all that time building that odd little structure in the back. He had a habit of talking to himself and some of the things he would say could be considered odd, if a bit humorous. Especially some of the things he said about Dumbledore. It had taken her a bit to recognize another of the people he would mention when he was 'making plans'. It turned out to be one of her Housemates from her Hogwarts days. Severus Snape was going to be rather embarrassed, and quite often from the sounds of some of the plans she would overhear. She nearly burst with held in laughter when she heard the plan about making the mans feet squeak, not his shoes, with the squelching sound one would get from stepping into exceptionally damp animal… complete with the smell. Or the one where Snape would have a permanent sticking charm applied to the interior of his shoes. An irritation jinx on his underwear, something called Nair in his shampoo, then the young man decided that one wouldn't work because Snape doesn't appear to have ever washed his hair.
She was sure that the young man had never met Severus Snape, at least not to her knowledge. But the prank planning she would over hear would have done her favorite cousin and his best friends proud.
Apart from his tendency to talk to himself when he was in his back garden, Andy thought he was a nice young man, with a strange but fun sense of humor.
Of course she hadn't taken the time to introduce herself yet. She had noticed that the young man didn't appear to have a girlfriend; let alone a wife, despite the care he seemed to put into setting up his house. Why he would say things like, 'The kid ought to like the fort. I just wish I had a tree big enough to build a treehouse instead, he'd really like that.' Or, 'Get him a dog? Or would he rather have something fun, like a goldfish? Hamsters are completely out of the question; those damned sit-com nightmares I have are quite enough! I know; I'll get him a dogfish, call it Sneak-fin!'
'Yes, he's an amusing youth. And with his apparent sense of humor and behavior, almost certainly a good match for my daughter. The best part is, he's a wizard so there won't be any of that explaining the wizarding world to a muggle, although, if he were a muggle he'd probably be quite entertained by it. Now, to set things up in the right way.' Andy thought as she finished weeding the flowerbed and went inside for tea.
She felt the need to impose a 'Betrothal' upon her daughter for the girl's protection, especially after Nymphadora's first year at Hogwarts, when Snape had intentionally let out the secret of her talent of Metamorphmagus. Ever since, there had been a nearly unending stream of rude boys that often tried to take advantage of her daughter and Andy was incensed about it.
Someone strong with a good sense of humor, warped appearing as it seemed, would be perfect for the Tonks teen, that he was reasonably attractive didn't hurt either. 'Now, how do I go about it?' she thought to herself as she poured a cup of tea and sat down to a small snack.
It was early afternoon when there was a pop at the apparition point near the secluded cemetery and wizarding monument to the Potters. Looking around he was annoyed that there were no others in the area, apart from Mrs. Bagshot peering from her window at who would be coming to visit the monument. He noticed, from the corner of his eye, the old woman shaking her head and turning from the window. 'PPhhhhhhh… nosy old prune. Wonder why she didn't write an expose on the old twinkler herself, rather than wait until Harry was in his sixth year to give that shrew with the poison pen an interview? Gotta be an imponderable, cuz I ain't gonna ask her myself!' He then strolled casually to the gate of the cemetery and entered.
He found the marker for his sister and brother-in-law in due course, and was quite shocked to see the condition of the gravesite and tombstone. It appeared to be rather unkempt and a little over grown with weeds. 'Now that just isn't right! These people are supposed to be heroes of the wizarding world and their graves are left uncared for? 'Nother reason to prank the life outta old whiskers and that greasy bastard Snape. SOB makes claims to loving Lily and never comes to her grave and tends to it? All I have to say about that is Barbara Streisand!'
Mumbling to himself about delusional and pompous bastards he set about clearing the weeds away. He hadn't thought to pick up flowers for the two people he was sure he would have enjoyed knowing and felt a little guilty about it. After he was done cleaning and squaring the debris and weeds away, the plot looked much better. Leaving, he returned a few minutes later with a pair of planters containing a selection of spring flowers. His assumption that Lily would have liked her namesake and (shudder) Petunias, he set them on either side of the large memorial Headstone. He cast a permanence charm on the planters after he had adjusted them to the best appearance.
Stepping back he looked at his handiwork and spoke softly, so that only his sister and brother-in-law could hear. If they had been alive that is. "Lily, James, I know the two of you don't know me. And are probably very much aware that in one sense I could be considered an imposter. But, here and now, in this world I am Garret, your half-brother. I'm also very sure that you are getting to know your little brother now on the other side. If you can hear me, I would like to let you know none of this was my idea. I don't even want to try and figure out what was going through Hecate's mind when she brought me here."
"It's alright, we don't hold you accountable Mr… Well, I suppose using the real name wouldn't matter would it? I'm Lily, and Garret was rather upset to find out that he was never to meet his nephews. He's doing well, the Marauders have taken him under their wing and the four of them are planning pranks on a fellow here named Max." A voice came from beside him. "I find myself feeling a bit sorry for Maxwell. Of course he did bring it upon himself."
Looking to his left, where the voice had come from he saw Lily. The descriptions he'd read didn't do the woman justice, she was a lovely and petite woman, well, ghost. Her body was iridescent and seemed to glow on it's own. Not surprising, as that would be the condition of anyone sent from the heavenly plane to interact with a mortal. Her clothing wasn't diaphanous or anything of the kind, she appeared to be a typical young woman wearing the style of 1981, a nice sweater and a pair of heavy jeans. He couldn't make out her footwear, as she faded at those extremities. "Thank you for the flowers dear. It's a lovely gesture."
"You're welcome. Uuhm, not to quibble or anything, but aren't there rules for communicating with the living?" Garret asked.
"The council decided that I would be allowed to speak to you if you ever came here." She explained. "Now, I have to ask that you not do anything too horrible to our sister. Petunia is tremendously jealous that I had magic and she didn't, and given the way she's turned out, it might be a good thing. You do realize that Albus is going to be exceedingly put out when you retrieve Harry?"
"Oh, yes. I have already taken that into account. I promise not to do anything too extreme to Tooney, but Vermin is going to have a very bad life. In fact I am planning on something that will take months to work out. And one that will be a life long affliction."
Looking a little pensive, Lily then said, "Garret, for you are now my brother Garret, I'm so sorry for you being brought here. Honestly, when I saw how things were going I asked for someone to intervene on Harry's behalf. I thought it would be Fate or Destiny who would step in. Imagine my surprise when the goddess of magic herself visited me. She told me she had a plan, and that it would work well because of all the misfortune that had befallen the Marauders. James and I were still dazed when Sirius arrived shortly behind us.
The three of us were horribly dismayed when Remus arrived last year, then this month when Hecate introduced my brother to me. Harry needs real Family, Garret, and as strange as it is, you will be a very good father figure for him.
All I ask is that you love him and protect him. And if possible, keep him from making the mistake of marrying that little Slytherin in Gryphindor colors!"
"Oh, make no mistake Lily. If I have my way, that little temper challenged fan-girl is going to be prevented from even darkening the doors of Hogwarts. What do you think, Durmstrang for the little potion pusher?"
Pursing her lips for a moment, Lily thought, "That might get her out of trouble, but I do like your idea of possibly finagling a betrothal between the little glutton and that odd looking boy Victor."
"Ah, Lily, that was supposed to be a surprise!" Garret pouted, then smiled at his dead sister. "Lily, I can't honestly say I love you sis, but I do wish I had gotten to know you. I also hope you won't be too upset when I go after your old friend the stalker."
"Severus? After what Hecate told me about what he will be doing to my son, I want him to suffer as much as humanly possible. If you can Garret, get that man away from the students of Hogwarts. He's turned out to be a vile and cruel bully. He's always been the way he is; James and Sirius explained most of the reasons they continued to persecute him in school. I can't say as I blame them either. Hexing people from behind and running before he was found out, blaming others for his misfortunes, tormenting the younger years… the list goes on. Do what you have to.
By the way, I have no problem telling you I love you Garret. And I also wish we'd grown up together. You would have loved James."
The two visited for another hour before Lily's time was up, and Garret felt a lot better about his whole mission in this world. He actually had his sisters blessing to do everything he felt necessary to protect Harry and make sure the kid had a wonderful life from the time he would be rescued from Durzkaban.
Taking the fact that Lily blessed his endeavors meant, to his mind, that he had Holy Orders to persecute, prosecute and execute all the enemies of the wizarding world. He'd just be far more creative about it than most others would be.
A/N Yes, yer right. There is a Bank of England. I'm using artistic license here. That way the real bank can't complain at a later date.
Regarding reviews. I will probably answer any I receive directly and not make any statement in the story; mostly because I plan on having the story completed before I post it in entirety.
e'd already decided against approaching that one with the prospect of being the Account Manager for the new Evans family