A/N I don't Own Harry Potter
He saw eyes dart around the now deserted corridor. The eyes of the oldest boy were constantly moving, trying to assess threats. Seeing nothing, the boy offered his hand to shake. Taking it, Harry was surprised at the firmness of his grip.
"Theodore Nott," he said, "Now, I overheard your name from her"
Theodore motioned towards the now unconscious girl lying on the floor at Harry's feet.
"Discounting for the moment that you're supposed to be dead, because you most certainly aren't, and you look far too much like a Potter for you not to be one, what do you want from us?" he said, gesturing at the surrounding group.
Harry appreciated the forthrightness of this man. But even still he decided to test him.
"What makes you think I want anything from you people? Maybe I did it out of the goodness of my heart?"
Theodore's eyes roamed up and down Harry's body, lingering for just a moment on the sword attached at the hip, and then looking him directly in the eye, he scoffed. "Simple, I've seen men like you-"
"-a Potter?" Harry asked, leaning on the wall his posture seemingly relaxed, arms folded in front of him.
"No, a man used to war. I'm not sure how but you've seen war before, and those types, your types, aren't going to do anything for free."
Harry was intrigued.
"Where did you come across such information?"
"Do you think that Britain is the only country on earth? My grandfather fought against the communists during the 1959 Hungarian Uprising, and while it ended badly he taught me that only patriots and fools fight for free. I've met some of his compatriots, some of the scariest mothers around. Given the fact that we should be in the same year at Hogwarts, and yet we aren't, I'll assume at best you haven't been in Britain since your 'death' meaning that you're no patriot. As for the fool part? I have a sneaking suspicion that if I called you a fool, you'd get me like a fish. Since I like my innards the way they are, I shall refrain."
"I'm impressed," Harry said. "Not many catch on to those facts nearly as quickly as you did." Harry immediately took a more commanding stance.
"From you?" he gestured to the gathered group, "I want you to go around and take anything that looks even remotely valuable."
He began passing out burlap sacks that he had taken from the barn for just such an occasion.
"But that's illegal!" came a call from the back of the room.
Harry let out a low chuckle. "I prefer to think of it as the right of conquest."
"We're still not going to help you," said a girl who was kneeling to check on the unconscious girl, her hair covering her face as she bent to examine the girl.
"And you are?" Harry asked, eyes quirking in amusement.
"Tracey Davis" she answered defiantly, looking up at him with fire in her eyes.
"That is fine, Miss Davis," He said, "But if you do not participate then I shall not be giving you the Portkey out."
"Why should we trust you?" she asked.
"You don't need to, at all." he looked around the now-empty house. " But I seem to be your only way out of here" he turned and began walking away as if to leave.
Grinding her teeth in frustration, she finally grunted her assent and took the bag to begin snatching everything in sight and shucking them into her bag. Reluctantly the others followed behind.
"You have forty-five minutes," he called to their retreating backs, only receiving a V sign from Tracey Davis.
"From the context, I'm assuming that was meant to be a rather rude gesture," he muttered to himself.
Looking at the unconscious girl, he decided that objectively she was quite pretty, her golden-blond hair splayed over the floor, and her reddish-pink lips open slightly. He shook himself as she began to wake.
"Where is everyone?" she asked, panic just beginning to slip into her voice, looking around wildly for anyone.
"They're helping me claim my right of conquest."
"So you're forcing them to help you steal from these people?" she asked, her demeanour now more confrontational, her eyes sharpening into shards of ice.
"Listen here, princess," he spat the word out with just a hint of venom. "I came to this godforsaken world, and immediately got attacked by these, what do you call them? Oh yes, Death Eaters, deciding that declaring war on me was a good idea. I was simply disabusing them of that notion. I came to their base, killed them all, and claimed the spoils of war. That is not stealing, Everyone in this building who was not held captive was an enemy combatant. All armed. They lost, I won, and I am taking what is rightfully mine. There is no stealing going on here."
She huffed, but couldn't find a good argument, she had to admit his argument made a lot of sense. The right of conquest was an old tradition, not widely used anymore, but not illegal by any means. She sat as she quietly accepted his answer.
"Now you have two options. Option one you go help your friends finish up collecting the loot, or two, you can answer some of my questions," he said imperiously.
Daphne wanted nothing more than to leave this strange man's presence, but sadly her head was still pounding too badly to stand.
"I guess I'll answer your questions,'' she said, as she laid her aching head against the cool stone wall.
Harry was jubilant, finally a chance to get a chance from an as unbiased source as one could get.
"Question one: why were you taken?" he paced around in the hall, watching her with disinterest.
She gulped.
"I'm not exactly sure why we were taken, but I have theories."
"Ok then let's hear them," he said still, feigning disinterest.
"So, each one of our families is what is termed 'Grey',"
"Grey?"
"Yes, grey, The 'Light' faction is much more openly tolerant or tolerant of Muggleborns, and progressive in their views thinking we should give in to the Muggleborns' every whim, cater to them, and essentially lose our culture in trying to please them. Now realise that they don't say that out loud, but that's the end of the end goal of their policies, even if they don't see it. The 'Dark' is much more conservative in their outlook wishing for a much more insular community, believing that Muggleborns, and especially Muggles have nothing of value to offer us. And we need to protect our culture by any means necessary."
"And the Grey?" Harry asked.
"I hate the term, but it seems to work well enough I suppose, anyway, the 'Grey' falls somewhere in the middle, I'll give you my personal view, I think that it rounds it quite nicely. I believe that there is no way to protect from all change, but to throw away your culture, at the altar of change is equally stupid. Here's what I say. Bring people in, teach them our culture, help them see the value in it, then let them live their own life. If they assimilate let them, if they don't, why must we cater to them?'"
Harry nodded, that way of thinking made a certain amount of sense to him. That was part of why he could never truly take the colours of any nation other than Kissindra, he was able to bow to any demands other than his own, unable to fight for a country rather than a cause.
"Anyway," she continued. "We were targeted because we've done business with both light and dark families, staying out of the conflicts for the most part. My thoughts are that the Dark Lord wanted to tie us to him, forcing us to fund his war efforts."
"And finally you had a much stronger reaction than the rest of your friends when you met me, why is that?"
She blushed at that.
"I guess it's because I knew you were dead, we could have been in the same year at Hogwarts, we might have been friends, but you died, you died, but- but you didn't! You were right there in front of me, rescuing me, us. Harry Potter here, rescuing us," she was babbling.
Sometime during this explosion, she stood up and began pacing, gesticulating wildly, taking a deep breath, she calmed down and began speaking at a more normal speed.
"It was all just a bit overwhelming."
Harry nodded in understanding. She finally calmed down and turned to Harry.
"OK, I've answered your questions, now it's time for you to answer mine."
Harry looked on, almost thoughtful before finally relenting.
"Seems fair."
Her face flickered through a kaleidoscope of emotions as she decided which question to ask first.
"How did you survive?"
He let out a humourless chuckle.
"Honestly I have no idea, from what I heard about that night I should be dead, but somehow I'm not,"
She waited for a bit, hoping he would elaborate. Seeing none forthcoming she pressed on.
"Where were you?" she continued
"My first real memory, I was probably between two and three, I was helping the family who took me in with some simple gardening, I later learned that I was in the nation of Makavia. I found out I was 'magical' at age eight and was then 'drafted' into the army."
"You were drafted at eight?" she asked, horrified.
"I was a special case, it takes a 'magical' person to be able to control a mech, and as such, I was put in training as soon as I was found out."
"But still you were a child!"
I didn't mind, besides being a mech pilot was every child's dream, including mine, so being selected was a dream come true. The first three years are mainly learning to control the mech, so it was less horrific than you might imagine. I was the youngest graduate to full pilot, at thirteen, granted I was also a veteran of two campaigns by that point as well.''
His story continued like that for quite a while, first detailing his adventures as an individual in the Makavian Military, and then his exploits as a mercenary.
It seemed like every word he spoke just kept getting worse and worse. Daphne could feel her jaw nearly hit her chest, she simultaneously wanted to hug this poor man and run away recoiling in horror at what this man had to endure. She felt the corner of her eyes prickle as tears began to form. Finally, his horror story finished.
"H-How did you make it back?" she asked, even unsure if she wanted to know the answer.
"That one surprisingly is probably the least painful thing I've told you so far," he said with a chuckle.
"So we had just finished routing out the final stronghold of the Cult-"
"Those are like the Death Eaters? Right?"
"Correct, anyways, we had just thrown them out of the town when a weird old hag shows and says 'you don't belong here, leave' and casts some sort of spell on me, then the next thing I know -"
Harry was caught off guard by the rest of the now-rescued hostages showing up either holding or levitating bags filled to the brim with stuff from all over the manor.
Tracey was first up the stairs spotting Daphne pacing wildly up and down the hall.
"Potter!" she called angrily. "What did you do to her?"
"Calm down Trace, Harry and I were just talking," Daphne said, finally stopping her manic pacing.
"Is that everything?" Harry asked, all traces of levity gone from his voice.
"Except for that table and chandelier in the conference room," Tracey replied snarkily.
"Not to worry, I have a plan for those," Harry said, as he began handing out little copper buttons.
"This will take you directly to the Potter manor house, take your bag and drop it off upon arriving at the destination."
He crushed the token binding all of the Portkeys to this location. As one, they disappeared.
Stepping into his mech, he made his way to the room that had the Dark Lord and what he could only assume was his Inner Circle. He chucked to himself as he gently lifted the table and held it under his arm before apparating away.
He arrived in 'his' barn and gently put the table down before once again dismounting and making his way towards the house where he saw the rescued prisoners, surrounded by the Order of the Phoenix, looking perplexed by the numerous bags of treasure.
"Harry, if you could be so kind as to enlighten us as to what exactly is happening here, would be greatly appreciated." came Dumbledore's voice, rising above the confused murmuring.
"Certainly, sir," Harry said.
"So you see, I was with James when you sent him that voice spell and seeing how aside from Mad-Eye, I am probably the most accomplished warrior you have, I went to rescue them. And as you can see by them all being here, I was successful."
"Too true, my boy, too true, just as I expected. And now this wonderful cache."
"Simple, it's mine through my right of conquest. Besides, war isn't cheap. I need a way to keep in fighting shape, now of course there's also the matter of my payment."
"W-what do you mean, your rates?" asked the same woman who asked about Horcruxes earlier, looking ill at ease.
"Did you expect me to kill this Dark Lord for free?" Harry asked
"It's your destiny to do so!" the woman said, her voice slightly panicked.
"What destiny?" Harry asked, nonplussed.
"You were the one to defeat him the first time!"
"So you just expected me to do so again, out of what? The goodness of my heart? Now, I'm perfectly happy to kill this dark lord for you, and I promise I will, but I expect to be paid for doing so."
Harry had been advancing towards the woman step by inexorable step, stopping only when he towered over her. She took an involuntary step back, before paling.
"Please Hestia, calm down," Lily said, comforting the woman. Nobody spoke for a few minutes. Finally the silence was broken by Mad-Eye.
"You are all being ridiculous, why in God's name do you not think that he should get paid? Dorcas, how much do you get paid running your florist shop in Diagon?"
"Depends on how well the shop is doing, but I can expect around a little less than thirty galleons per month, why?"
"Now now," said a plump witch with flaming red hair coming out of the kitchen area, holding a rolling pin in one hand, and her wand in the other.
Harry could only assume this was Molly Weasley given the resemblance to her son Bill.
"Now let's get these children sorted before anything else happens," she said as she began bustling the children towards the kitchen away from the impending confrontation.
Daphne caught Harry's eye and sent a look of gratitude his way.
Mad-Eye continued once Molly and the children had cleared the way.
"Do you risk your life every day?"
"Don't be ridiculous, of course I don't!" she replied
Turning now to Harry he asked, "How often do you risk your life? On average?"
Harry thought about it for a moment before responding, "Near daily."
"Let me ask you this, Dorcas, is what you do any more dangerous than what Harry is offering to do?"
"O-of course not," came the reply.
He swivelled to meet Hestia's eye, "Do you expect Harry to risk his life for less than what Dorcas makes? What do you make?"
"No, of course not." she hung her head in shame.
What's your rate, Harry?" Mad-eye asked.
"Let me ask you some questions first." Harry said. "I need to understand the relative value of things. Let's start with the obvious. What is the price of gold?"
"About £340, per standard unit of measurement. But galleons are made out of goblin alloy. You can't convert them into standard gold." Bill spoke up. "A galleon converts to somewhere around two hundred pounds. A single galleon could buy you more than enough for a family of four to eat for a week, if you budgeted economically."
"I'll take five hundred a week." Harry stated, hearing gasps at his reply.
"I'll cover it." a dark haired man spoke up.
"And you are?" Harry asked.
"Sirius Black, your godfather." the man said.
"My Godfather? What is that/" Harry asked, not liking another strange man coming in and claiming familial ties, especially one so close as Father."
Sensing his Trepidation, Sirius quickly explained, "Oh, it's nothing. I was supposed to look after you should something happen to your parents. Luckily nothing did, but we're here together now., a big happy family, now instead of raising you, I can instead corrupt you"
"Corrupt me?" harry asked, taking an involuntary step back, corrupting something was heinous and deserving of being cleansed, painfully, by the Gods."
"Dunbledore stepped up and began chuckling slightly, "In colloquial terms, in this context, corrupt simply means to show a young man about the finer things in life, like liquor, or the company of women things of that nature, i promise you that is perfectly innocuous"
Harry began to relax just slightly, "back to the Godfather idea, I don't need either a god, or a father, I already have both, thank you very much." he began to walk back towards the door
Desperate not to lose the boy, Sirius ran after him, "I don't know what your aversion to my being your godfather is, but it doesn't matter. Just think of me as a mentor, the guy you go yto with any questions you can't, or won't go to your parents for."
Harry was at a loss for words. This man just waltzed into the room without a single care in the world and offered to pay his million credit a year rate like it was nothing. Deciding to just accept it, he just let it go.
"Now that we've got this all figured out, would you be so kind as to join me? I have some questions for you." Dumbledore asked before leaving the room, expecting Harry to follow.
Shrugging, curious as to what the man wanted, he followed.
A/N Thank you to ChiaroscuroGirl for her har work Betaing
