Battle Magus Potter
00
ISDH
AN; From my reading, I have collected a select few Goblins that are just about perfect. Barchoke is Account Manager for House Potter. Bonequill is a Ledger Tender, and Gripsaq(Gripsack) is a Lawyer with a Legal-witch, Twyst(Twist), and a Law-wizard, Puleut(Pull-it). Most I have selected from the works of the many writers I read, but I have forgotten who came up with whom.
BMP
The first sign that trouble had hit the Alley; a squad of six 'paratroopers' entered the Tavern from the Street. The way they moved, spoke of an ease of violence, confidence in their Power, and a 'Right' to be here. They 'smelled' of Magic, but Scarface had a Desert Eagle under his left arm, as the smallest had a short pump action shotgun. A third had a pistol revolver holstered on his left breast.
Leaning into Tom, the bar keep, Harry asked the one Question the old man did not want to answer. "Hey Tom? Who and what are they?"
"Those are Battle Mages." The barkeep finished the spot he was polishing. "Not the type of Wizard you should be involved with."
"How Should I know?" One Battlemage, smaller than the rest, cried out loud to the others, "She only tells me these things because she uses me as her personal shag-toy."
"Yeah." the biggest of the six guffed, looking like Hagrid's cousin, dressed in kilt, vest, and cloak, his boots ending just short of his knee. He slung a pair of massive duffels off his broad back, dropping them on an empty table, next to the booth they were going to be sitting at."and yet every night she is in range…"
"I did not say I don't enjoy being used…" the small guy grinned widely, before turning to face the Bar… "Tits!"
The other Five turned to look. Right at the Scared brow of Harry Potter.
The small guy, standing maybe 5 foot 2, wore a patched set of leather coveralls, belted by a toolbelt. He dropped two messenger bags on the pack table. The Shotgun stayed in its holster under his arm.
One wore what looked like a French Forgien Legion uniform, with a pouch strapped to each thigh, a pair of bandoleers filled with potion vials crossing his chest. His revolver over his heart.
Two females, One dressed in chain-mail robes with fur trim, heeled boots, and a massive bladed battle axe, topped with an orb the size of Harry's fist. She dropped a leather rucksack. The other, a darker answer to the Patil twins, her tri-coloured hair in tight cornrow braids, with rune carved beads, ivory, every eight inches, wore heeled sandals, dressed in a fashion that would not be out of style in Arabia.
One with a scar over his left eye snickered. "And that is why we keep throwing you back. She has yet to be wrong." He strode up to the bar, and offered his paw to shake. "Lord Potter, Sir. Squad Kenaz of the Potter Legion. Warlock Shemp commanding. "
"Legion?" The Lad was confused.
Shemp frowned at the Boy, "What do you know of your Family History?"
"My Dad flew 'chaser' for Gryffindor House in school." Harry answered calmly.
Looking at Tom, behind the bar, Shemp growled, "He is not joking."
"Certain People in certain Positions of Power have asked that I not enlighten him." Tom started scrubbing a spot six inches left of his last spot. "The Kind of People that Barkeeps try very hard to keep happy."
"Okay. Brief note, During the Grimwald War, your Grandfather Charles commanded the Potter Legion, as did his
Father Fleamont before him." Shemp clasped Harry's shoulder in his hand. "Your Father never took up command of the Legion, because Chuck held it firmly until his bout with the Pox." a Galleon hit the bar, "Butterbeers for seven please." He drug the lad with him back to the Booth.
"Like I said, this is Squad Kenaz. We are what the Muggles call Paratroopers. Command chucks us behind enemy lines, and takes bets on how long it takes us to come out the other side." Shemp set the Lad on the back of the booth. "I am Shemp, and hold the rank of Major."
The Scrawny guy piped up next, "Corporal Pepperslide."
Shemp just snorted, "Peppe. A real scraper, that one. Our Specialist."
"Po." the Biggest guy sighed.
"Our Tank." Shemp thumped the guy's shoulder, "Also a Corporal. Slower than a troll doing math. But Anything he puts up stays up, anything he puts down, stays down." a wide finger found a french looking guy with a mini handlebar mustache. "Frenchie. Potions, poisons, and pottibles."
Frenchie opened his mouth… "I 'ave no idea where these idjuts got the notion I am French." in a Texan drawl "Corporal John-luke Paris.
"Then you have the twins." a black chick with her hair in cornrows, and the Bald Viking witch.
Harry raised an eyebrow.
"Yes Sugar. Twins. Really threw mom for a loop" the black babe spoke with a cambridge accent and manor.
The Viking gal spoke with a cajun twang. "We handle the Artillery and area intense spellcasting."
Harry took the mug of butterbeer that was passed to him. "I see three of you with firearms, but no wands."
The Mages went still, all eyes on Shemp. Shemp drew heavily on his stein. "Okay kid, you are what...twelve?"
"Just turned 13, actually."
"And so you are swishing a twigg of what... 13 inches of shaped wood around a few tail hairs?"
"Something like that." Harry responded, taking their earlier reaction to mean that he should keep the details of his wand quiet.
"For a child, that is an acceptable practice." Shemp sighed, "But only Frenchie among us uses a wand, and that is for cleaning up things not fit for the human hand. Po uses a Short Staff to focus his Arcane crafting. Anne has her Axe, as Claire has her beads. I use a Cane/scepter, myself. Peppe has his athmae. Now, as for our Firearms. The Twins use sniper rifles, and uzis. I have my Eagle. Peppe has his Shotgun, and Frenchie has his Colt. Po, when he unpacks it, has a 50 caliber beast. But the rifles are of little use in the city, they are in the packs."
The Darker sister, Claire, wrapped an arm along Frenchie's shoulders, "In the field, we are more Hit than Wizard, but Potter Legion are in high Demand and we can Demand great pay for our skills. You probably heard about Peppe and his Seer." Harry blushed, as he nodded. "She foretold that You would be here. We are the only Squad that is not contracted to a Ministry. Charles had set up the contracts, just before Lord Vee revealed his Darkness. The Legions were caught out, and before we could be recalled, the Commander died, and the Heir was murdered. The Generals agreed that we should return to train you up."
"The first piece of business." Shemp leaned forward. "Taking custody of you, your Lordship. As soon as we finish our butterbeers, the Twins and I will take you to the Goblins and begin returning House Potter to it's Throne of Glory. Peppe and Frenchie have some shopping to do, most of it down Knockturn alley. Po will stay here, looking over our things and booking rooms for the night."
Harry looked at the assembled mugs, most almost empty themselves. He threw back his mug, emptying it in a quick long draw. "Let's go. I got nothing else to do. I have a good feeling about you… but … I want to hear it from the Goblins."
"Then we go." Anne shifted her axe to her back, as she led the way out the back of the Inn.
Claire followed her sister, Frenchie, still under her arm. Peppe adjusted his toolbelt and shotgun, as he strutted in their wake. Po just waved his empty mug at Thom, as Shemp clapped a hand on Harry's shoulder, drawing him into the group heading out back.
BMP
The Four of them hit the steps of the Bank like a wave crashing upon rocks…
The half dozen Goblins, half asleep at their posts, snapped fully awake, and fully erect. Halberds that were once resting on shoulders, sprung straight upright.
Shemp guided Harry between the two warrior goddesses and the soldiers standing guard, into the Grand Lobby. Harry chose one cue, that led to his favorite teller, Bonequill. "Bonequill, may Profit fall on you."
"Potter." the goblin Teller's eyes flickered over the three adults behind the boy as he sneered. "I see that you will need to speak to Barchoke. I will tell him you are here. Wait over there." He pointed with a scrimshaw quill-pen.
No sooner than the four humans arrived at the copper bound doors, then they were met by a face from Harry's past.
"Griphook?" the young wizard asked.
"Do I know you, wizard?" the small goblin sneered
"You escorted me to my vault on my first visit here." Harry smiled, "Best day of my life."
Griphook snorted. "This way."
They headed through a few hallways, before standing outside an black oak door. Griphook scratched at the door, counted to three, before opening the door. "Potter and company." He announced.
Shemp and the witches snorted, before they followed the lad inside.
"About time you show up, Lad." the bald male from behind the desk snarled. "We have been trying to reach you for the last twenty-five months. Why have you not responded to our owls?"
"Never received your owls." Harry was wided, "Only post I get is from my owl, and the School."
Shemp frowned. "Sir. with permission?"
"Scan him."
The scared warlock pulled a stick from his belt. Thirty-two inches long, inch and a half thick, a cut clear quartz crystal embedded in the top, where the wood looked to have split tendrils and braided themselves about the stone. As the stone passed over the Lad, a light lit within the stone. "There is a thicket of wards and bindings on the Lad. I can make out three 'Core binders', a twisted Blood Curse that works as a Blessing, a parasite, and a 'Warrior's Rest'."
"The Blood Curse was the work of his Mother." the Goblin snarled. "She used the Black Library, the Potter Library, and a few visits to the Nation's Archives. She 'gifted' a copy of the Blood Curse for our keeping. Named it 'Mother's Love'." he scratched a few notes into his ledger. "Three bindings?"
"Like what you do to toddlers to curb their 'accentle' magic." Shemp sneered. "The 'Warrior's Rest' is a mail redirection ward. Your Magical signature is smudged, so the Postal Magic relays most Post away from a Mage." Shemp explained to the Lad.
"Parasite?" the Goblin growled.
"Yeah." the scared Warlock pointed at the Lad's brow, "It is burrowed in there like a tick. Between the Blood Curse, the Core Binders, and that thing… I am surprised his Lordship is not mistaken for a squib."
Claire drew her nails over Harry's brow, as she murmured a few words in a language Harry did not know, understand, or even truly hear. She snorts, "I have picked the threads on the bindings, and they will unravel as he uses his magic. The Curse is strong, and renewed constantly. The Parasite will be consumed as our Lord's Magic roars to life, or it will try for a new Host."
The Goblin sneered at the witch, "First we must confirm his Identity. Boy! Sign this sheet of parchment with this Quill." a Black page was pushed before him, along with a black feather.
"No ink needed." Shemp patted the lad on the shoulder, "But it will hurt. Make it as quick as you can, in as few strokes as possible."
Harry signed.
Pain bloomed in the back of his hand.
The black sheet burned golden, as it listed the facts of Harry's Identity. Barchoke read it, his eyebrows twitching at every third line, as his grin became less pronounced.
"Sir?" Harry tried not to sound as worried as he was.
"When you take your Rings, I will disclose everything." the Goblin locked eyes with Shemp, "Yes, I do mean Rings as in more than one." He read his ledger… "I see there are a few things that I will need to put before a litigator."
"I would advise Gripsaq, Twyst, and Puleut*." Shemp turned from the Managers desk, heading to a wet bar, where he poured two glasses on an amber liquid that seemed to burn from within. "He is a Full Services Legal Officer with the Bank. He is a nasty piece of work, but he is the best at what he does. Potter Legion Alliance has him on retainer, so he should be accepting of our bid for his Services." Shemp handed one of the glasses to Barchoke.
"Agreed." Barchoke swallowed half his drink, "But he is an Ass." he scratched a note, dropped it into his out tray, and continued to read the form before him.
"Okay, we are passed the Heir and Scion section. I need to have Gripsaq look it over, and get back to you next week." A mark with his quill, "Into Contracts." He double tapped the sheet… "I am seeing Fifteen contacts trying to lock on to you. Half of them should fall to the wayside when Gripsaq has finished his work." another mark. "Account adjustments… handled. You have doubled your trust vault holdings, and tripled your maxim draw. I will need your key."
Harry passed the small golden key over.
Barchoke frowned. "This is not the Master Key."
"That was the key I was given…"
"Boss." Anne spoke up from where she was leaning against the wall. "If I may advise. New Key. And Blood-lock it."
Harry turned to the goblin, who nodded, "That would be my advice too, if I was allowed to advise. It will cost two gold to replace the Key, and three to Blood-lock it."
"What does having my Master Key get someone?" Harry asked, dreading the answer.
"They have the Right to not only withdraw upto your daily max, they may have the Right to enter your Vault and clean it out." the Goblin Sneered, "Completely. On your Birthday, your Vault which is a 'Class A Trust Vault' refills on your Birthday to a preset Five Thousand Gold in mixed coinage, with a monthly top up on the 1st of One Thousand Gold. At any given Time, your Vault has Five Thousand Gold in mixed Coins, unless it has been drained."
"Can you check it?" Harry furrowed his brow, "I am curious as to the activity of my Vault."
"From November of '81, a monthly withdrawal on the the 5th of the month, of three hundred was drawn, and converted to Pounds Sterling, and Deposited in Lloyds of London under the name Dursley. As of July of '82 on the 15th, thirty Gold were drawn and put into the personal Account of one Molly Prewett, your contracted Future Mother in Law. And as of August of '85, Two Hundred were yearly diverted to… Hogwarts Retirement Fund." The Goblin looked at the boy. "Your Orders?"
"Stop the First Two." Harry growled. "And put a hold on the third. I want to see where it is going before canceling it. Change the Lock, but leave the Key, so whoever has it, won;t know the Account has changed. I leave them to your mercy."
BMP
In the Offices of Gripsaq, Twyst, and Puleut, a teal slip of parchment landed in a carved stone tray. Being the youngest, and having only just finished his Internship, the Law-Wizard Puleut collected it, read it, and passed it to the Goblin who was nose deep in a dusty Law Tome. "Sir. House Potter, by way of Barchoke, seeks your expertise."
"And Why do you tell me, when you bloody well know that I am going to send you?" the Goblin glared over the Tome.
"Because the Memo Named you, Sir. Used the Name House Potter asto Potter, and last but not least, it is Barchoke. You have been itching to insult someone for days now, and Barchoke is your Favorite Target."
The old and wrinkled goblin sneered at the human, "You are Right, I need to get out of the Office for a bit. Let's go scare some wizards. Two knuts, I get three people to piss themselves before we get there."
"Two knuts, Sir." Puleut stood, and held the coat for the Goblin to shrug into. "I also bet you, a sickle that the total by the time we get back to the office is less than five." He slapped a shiny silver stamped coin on his desk.
The Goblin's chin rose. "You are getting too big for your britches, Boy."
"Match it, or Pass… Elder."
An even shinier silver coin slammed down by the first. The 'Lad' would learn what it meant to get a Goblin's blood boiling.
The Door slammed open, and everyone ran to hug the walls as the gray tweed dressed dou stormed up the hallway.
BMP
Frenchie and Peppe were in a Chemist's shop. To call the place an Apothecary would have been an insult to the Apothecary Guild. Oh, this shop sold all things Apothecary in nature, but they also dealt in Muggle meds and drugs. Frenchie was haggling over a selection of poppers, pills, and potions.
Peppe was poking around in the back of the Shop, when he found 'It'. It was 'Perfect'. Peppe was what the Team called a 'specialist'. In DnD terms he was the 'Rouge'. Sometimes the 'Bard', sometimes the 'Thief'. He was the one to get the Team passed the locked door, or out of their chains if captured. He did this with a mix of Divination, Charms, and muggle skills. This was his 'Sight' telling him to get 'It'. A cane of Blackthorn, capped with a silver Dragon claw clutching a 'Tiger's Eye' agate sphere the size of his fist. The Eye was Green and Yellow, and the poor guy felt that it was peering into his soul.
Peppe could see the Boss wielding the Cane/scepter in combat. Peppe arrived at the counter, just as Frenchie had sealed the deal for his purchases. The Shopkeeper took one look at the cane in Peppe's hand, "Five gold."
Peppe blinked, before digging out the five coins and tossing them on the counter.
Out in the shaded light of the Street of Knockturn Alley, Peppe turned to look back, only to find the Store they had just been in Gone. "Ah, Frenchie?"
"Yeah. Knew he was going to do that. He won't be back for close to a month. He does not want 'that' Cane coming back." the Texan drawled. "Why did you get it?"
"The Boss." Peppe cradled the shaft in his arms, not holding it with his Hands. "I saw him using it in a manner that is a cross of the Major and Po."
Frenchie paused, "When you say, you Saw…"
"Yeah. Like 'She' does."
BMP
Gripsaq scratched on the door, just before shouldering into the Office, his trademark glaring sneer in place. He had to refocus it when he spotted the Heir with the Major. 'What in the Name of the Exchequer are they doing here? Together?' He turned his glare to Barchoke. "You sent for me?"
"Read this." The Sheet was passed to the grumpy goblin.
Gripsaq reddit, his eyes flickered to Heir Potter, "I take it you want the Inheritances straightened out."
"And then there is this." a second sheet was passed. "And then there are the Contracts for Marriage." A third sheet was pushed toward. "And to make matters worse, There is a question of his Guardianship. The Parents' Wills were sealed by the Ministry, and without a Guardian's Order, the copies we are holding are not worth the Paper they are printed on."
"Who is holding his Guardianship now?"
"No One." Barchoke, sneered. "When the Lad missed his Eleventh Birthday Introduction, the so-called Guardian lost their rights to him. When They failed to respond to our request to correct the oversight, they sealed their fate."
"My Squad would like to take Him, Sir." Shemp snapped off a Salute. "We are in between Contracts at the moment. We can settle here in the Alley until the First of September. At which point, we will move to Hogsmead. That way the Lad can attend classes as normal, and on the weekends, work with us on what he needs to know to command the Legions."
Gripsaq frowned. "Yes to the Custodianship. With the Boy under the watchful eye of Squad Kenaz, and the Guardianship in dispute, We have grounds to breach the Seal on the Potter's Wills to see who should be in charge of the Boy's Care. Major Shemp, you are Charged with the Custody of the Boy."
"Sir."
Gripsaq glared at Barchoke. "The Squad will front us the Boy's cost, for one year. To be paid on the Boy's next Birthday. Get the Boy his Ring, Scion only, unless House Magic upgrades him. Send a copy of all files to my Office." The Goblin nodded to the Warlock, and left, his wizard on his heels.
Barchoke pushed his empty glass at the warlock, and flicked a talon at the Bar. As the Warlock refilled the two glasses, Barchoke dug out a carved Cherry wood box, and opened it to show a selection of five rings. His fore talon pointed to the simplest, smallest ring at the bottom of the line. "This is the Scion House Ring. Slide it on your Right ring-finger."
As Harry took it, and slipped it on, he felt a warmth not unlike his wand… and as the ring settled into place, it flickered and traded places with the next ring up.
"And that is the Heir Ring."
The ring flickered twice more before settling in place.
Barchoke closed the box, and returned it to its hiding place under the Desk. He then slugged half of his drink, "Ok Heir Potter. We need to print you a new key, Blood-lock it, pull some funds for a wardrobe update. It was one thing for you to run around it rags when you were just Mr. Potter. But now that you are Scion and Heir Potter… There are Standards, Images to maintain."
"You sound like Malfoy." Harry frowned.
Claire chuckled. "He is correct. As Heir, or even Scion, you have an image to uphold. You are the next Potter, Commander of the Legion. A certain level of decorum is expected. Now looking nice does not mean you have to look like a Fop, but fitted trousers and robes are a must."
Anne snorted, "And do not even get me started on those shoes."