Disclaimer I don't own Harry Potter
David Taylor had been out to lunch with his lovely young secretary, eating at a little restaurant not a ten-minute walk from Barclays' headquarters. He was lucky; he had seen his neighbor Daniel Thompson walk out of the restaurant with his own secretary just as he was walking in, both pretending not to see each other to not have to report such a thing to their wives.
He saw a new account had been opened, mildly curious about the banker who had closed that deal. Clicking on it to open the pertinent information. He noted who the originator of the account was and was about to close the program when he noted the GRIN on the originator line at absolutely balked at the number that was in the account. Pressing the intercom that opened the line to his secretaries desk
"Tiffany come in here please" His door opened and a perky twenty-something walked into his office, her red hair flouncing as she walked with her assets on full display.
"Yes, boss?" she asked, leaning over his desk, giving him an eyeful of her decolletage. Normally he enjoyed such a view, but there was something else on his mind.
"Uh," he said, clearing his throat, trying not to stare down her shirt. "There-there will be a man who goes by Harry Getthen coming by anytime between now and next Monday, the um," he checked his desk calendar "-the eleventh, please come find me, the moment he shows up, I don't care if I'm in a meeting withpresident Diamond. I want you to tell me the second he shows up."
"Sure thing, boss, is that all?" she asked, sauntering back towards her desk, leaving David with a nice view of his secretary's arse. Sighing heavily, he rechecked the number, just to be sure he hadn't misread it, he hadn't.
Damn, that was arguably the largest single investment made going in that direction, or at least as large as he had seen. The bonus alone would finish paying off his yacht, he began rubbing his hands together in glee. Pushing the intercom button again he spoke much calmer this time, "Tiffany start thinking about swimsuits, luv. Daddy's gonna be rich."
Harry was outside his barn reading when Ollivander walked up to him, holding a long thin box.
"Ebony with a basilisk fang core, thirteen and a quarter inches," he said by way of greeting.
Harry took it and was greeted by a long stick, its point tapering into a nasty-looking point, with carvings running up the length before stopping just before the handle, an ivory-colored piece of cord wrapped in such a way as to mesmerize him.
"It-it's beautiful," Harry said haltingly, surprised at the artistry. The wands he had seen especially in Cygar were boxy utilitarian things, made for pure function, form a distant second if thought of at all. He gave it an experimental swish and he felt his magic rush through it unimpeded, eager to be let out and impose his will on the world.
"I don't think I've used anything that was that responsive," Harry said looking at the new wand in awe.
"Let me guess, you were 'inspired' by Cygaren wands?"
"I was indeed," Ollivander said with a knowing wink, "Have you inserted your new core in yet?"
"No, Truth be told, I'm not even exactly sure how, I'm certified on the rest of the damn thing, but I could never quite replace a core, and that's partly the reason why I had never replaced my core, that and my pay only covered the Chassis or a new core, not both." Harry said with a sigh, "I don't suppose I could impose on you to help me?"
"I don't see a reason why not, believe me when I tell you that now, I'm looking for things to do. Sitting around waiting for a clumsy witch or wizard to walk through the door of my shop gets a little dull."
"How do you make money anyway?" Harry asked as he removed the core casing from the torso of his mech, the core inside.
It was supposed to be shiny and etched with runes enclosing a ball of liquid plasma, but was instead cracked and burned black almost falling apart. Harry winced as he began to unscrew the casing protecting the core before pulling on a pair of polarised goggles and handing over a pair to Ollivander before pulling out the core carefully with a pair of tongs.
"Careful, careful… Good," Ollivander said as Harry grabbed the core with extremely thick gloves and placed it gently on a flat stone.
The light behind the eyes that animated the mech, died out. The vague autonomous movements that made the mech any more than a simple hunk of metal vanished, leaving only a lifeless hunk that looked vaguely humanoid in its place, the cool grey metal contrasting with the warmer wood tones of the barn.
Ollivander looked inside the core seating, noting some minute flakes of carbonized iron stuck to one of the settings.
"Decent job, Harry," Ollivander told him, "but before you can insert the new core into your mech, you'll need to take your fine steel bristle wire brush and clean out the previous casing."
"No problem," Harry said, taking out a fine-toothed bristle brush and began meticulously clearing the carbonized iron off of the seating.
"You were asking me how I made money?" Ollivander asked as Harry worked.
"Uh-huh."
His voice came back ever so muffled and tinny, as his head was deep inside the chassis cleaning the inside
"So first off, a single wand costs quite a bit, a bespoke like yours can cost upwards of two weeks' wages, for the average witch or wizard," he replied, making tiny engravings on the under-armor of the mech, offering more spell resistance than previously, more tuned to the subtler curses used by wanded witches and wizards.
"So the margins aren't horrible, but I also gather potions ingredients whilst on my travels looking for new cores, and sell them to potioneers here in Britain, it makes for a decent supplementary income.."
They worked like that for a few hours, cleaning and making minor adjustments until Olivander was satisfied.
"Ok, now we can begin the process of integrating the new core. I'll assume you're familiar with the process?" he asked as he placed the new core into its seat, a blue glow emanating from the now much larger core, instead of the previously sickly pale yellow the much smaller core put out.
Harry nodded in the affirmative, before entering a trance and concentrating on melding his mind with the new core. Suddenly the previously inert autonomation now had the same color eyes as the blue core. Stepping inside the hulking metal shell, Harry felt a new presence engulf him, it was wary, almost like it was judging the boy. Seeming to accept him, he felt the core take hold of his magic and hummed to life.
Harry basked in the familiar, yet somehow alien embrace of the mech, the new core accepting Harry as the master. Deciding to do the training run every pilot went through when entering either a new mech or a new core, he was surprised at how responsive it felt, he felt the combination of his meld and controls respond to his every desire. Where before he had to command the mech to do his bidding this was much more responsive, he merely needed to will something to happen and it did.
While inside he did a quick inventory of the ordinance left, grinning at the new readout. Lifespan: ten thousand years; he was used to seeing a comparatively depressing hundred years in that readout. This new core was beyond amazing. Glancing at the ammo count, he sighed in resignation, he only had enough for a single engagement like the manor, not that he was planning on another such engagement very shortly, but his current ordinance was all he had until he could procure more.
Stepping out of his mech, Harry couldn't help a giant grin from splitting his face in half. Ollivander looked smug and was finishing cleaning the area, cleaning away the dirt and grime that had accumulated throughout their little adventure.
"Why didn't we use that spell when we were cleaning the mech?" Harry asked, having just seen Olivander cast a Scourgify Charm.
"Because Scourgify was invented as a heavy duty bludgeon of a spell. Who knows what effect that unfocused magic could have done to such a delicate operation?" Ollivander said, entering lecture mode.
Harry nodded his head in agreement, understanding, even just putting in a perfectly good core into a working mech required delicate balance.
"Is there a spell I could use?" Harry asked curiously.
"No, not really, the core work is far too delicate for any sort of wandwork to work reliably."
"Oh," was all that Harry said.
He had expected something like this. Even if there was a spell one could use, he doubted he would. Ollivander was right, this was far too delicate to do with wand work, even one so beautiful and lovely as his. He glanced over to it, lying on the table he had taken in the manor raid, its dark tone contrasting with the crystal of the top, with its multi hued veins running through the whole table, giving it an almost ethereal quality about it.
The whole thing was incongruent in its location, surrounded by the wood of a barn, an empty one granted, but a barn nonetheless, with its wooden support structures and unevenly cut planks with horseshoes hung up on the walls.
Olivander picked up the old core, turning it over in his hands muttering to himself. Suddenly an idea hit Harry.
"Do you think you could fix that?" Harry asked, getting excited.
"Possibly?" Ollivander hedged. "It would certainly be an interesting project, may I ask why?"
"Well you see, I was just thinking," Harry boke eye contact, looking slightly abashed, "These are probably the best counter to Voldemort these people have, and just imagine the kind of havoc we could wreak if we had even one more of these, and I'll bet you at least a couple of witches or wizards here could be trained to be decent mech pilots."
Ollivanders eyes lit up, catching the vision.
"Yes, yes, I still think I remember how to make these," he indicated the core he held in his hands.
"Now the real problem is building the actual mechs themselves, I am but one man, I shall have to think on this" Ollivander said as he began walking towards the apparition point before popping away.
Putting his wand in his boot, Harry made his way back to the main house. Upon opening the door he was assaulted by a veritable army of smells. He soon found himself in the kitchen where there were dozens and dozens of knives chopping various things from a roast to innumerable vegetables. Harry could have sworn that he was a whole hog being levitated before being placed very gently on a bed of green.
There were pots upon pots of things simmering away over a stove. And in the middle was a short witch. Her red hair which looked like it had been tied up in a bun once upon a time was now flying in every which way, her apron covered in various substances, her face blotched red. But nevertheless she looked serene, a conductor leading her orchestra through a wonderful symphony, never missing a beat. Dodging as a pot which looked like a beef stew came careening by, she finally saw him standing there. A quick flick of her wand and the whole procession came to a stop.
"Molly Weasley, dear," the woman said, wiping her hand on her dirty apron. "I didn't get a chance to properly introduce myself at the meeting the other day."
She walked right up to him and began eyeing him. Much like a Llyalese merchant inspecting the wares before purchase, her eyes taking him in. He swallowed, vaguely uncomfortable.
"I suppose you'll do," she said before handing him a fresh baked roll. "Eat, you're far too skinny for my liking."
She did not give him the opportunity to say anything. He broke open the roll and breathed in the scent. Taking a bite he had an almost euphoric reaction - the crust was nice and flaky, the bread underneath warm and not too hot, with an airiness that he had come to associate with only the freshest of bread. Swallowing he turned to her speechless, this woman was a force of nature
"Where's- where's Lily?" he asked, not seeing her around anywhere.
"She's in the dining room preparing." Molly said
"Preparing for what exactly?" Harry asked
"Bill's fiancé, you've met Bill: long, lanky, went after Dumbledore on the Horcruxes." she said it nonchalantly, but the shudder as she said it was unmistakable.
Harry patted her arm awkwardly, unsure of what to say. He was never very good at this interpersonal herself she straightened, all sense of anger gone from her visage.
"Anyway His fiance is coming in and so is Charlie, and well your mother so graciously offered to host."
Wandering off in search of a friendly face, he found Lily in the same room that the first meeting with the Order of the Phoenix had been in, setting the table. Seeing him, she gave him a quick smile.
"Was that Garrick Olivander I saw out there today?" she asked as she finished putting the final touches on the placement.
"Yeah, I bought a bespoke wand from him yesterday, he was just dropping it off."
"Can I see it?" Lily asked, looking apprehensive, like she was asking for something personal.
Shrugging, Harry reached down and pulled it out of his boot and handed it over.
"It's beautiful," she said, holding it almost reverently, admiring it from every angle. "What is it? I'm thinking maybe ebony? I have no idea about the core though."
"Basilisk fang."
She looked up at him in absolute surprise.
"Basilisk fang? Those are extremely rare, you're the first person I know to have a basilisk fang as a core."
Harry shrugged noncommittally, done with the discussion. Handing the wand back to Harry, she left the room to see if Molly Weasley needed help.
The double door to the dining area was pulled open by a man wearing a dragonhide vest, a tightfitting black tee, only half covering of a dragon tattoo, placed on his upper bicep. Looking up and down at Harry, the man finally stuck his hand out, grasping Harry's in a firm handshake.
"Charlie Weasley, at your service." He said with a wild grin, "And you are?"
Harry paused for a moment deciding whether or not to lie, deciding against it, he said "Harry Potter."
Charlie looked confused.
"What? How?" he said as his mind was processing trying to catch up to such a revelation. Shaking his head to clear it, he said, "Someone smarter than me will have to figure it out. Now that you're here, what's your plans?"
"Long term or short term?"
"Not much of a conversationalist here, are you?"
Harry shrugged. While this man looked friendly enough, he didn't really feel the need to fill the air with inane chatter.
"Short term then," Charlie said, picking up an apple from the bowl of fruit set in the middle of the table, its waxy red skin unnaturally shiny, and began throwing it up and catching it.
The light from the chandelier bouncing off the red skin making for interesting patterns on the wall on either side of the table.
"Find a way to get more ammunition for my mech," was all Harry said.
"Ammunition?" Charlie replied, "whatever for?"
"So I'll can use my mech to its fullest extent"
"What's a mech?"
Growing tired of this conversation, he turned to leave.
Panicked, Charlie called out, "Wait seriously, how did you get here? And where were you?"
Sighing, Harry turned back to the now desperate man.
"I got here through a spell gone very wrong, and where I was? I was in a different world." Harry said with finality, indicating the fact he was done with this topic of conversation.
Charlie tried one last gambit. "What are you going to do now that you're here?"
"Kill Voldemort, and all his followers, then we shall see." Harry said.
Charlie felt a shiver run down his spine the way he said it, with so much conviction, steel in his voice, He had met dragon handlers who used that kind of voice, and you knew they were deadly serious about the task, the time for joking and levity was over, they were going to complete the mission, come hell or high water.
Looking at the boym Charlie could see not a boy, but a man who would stop at nothing to get the job done. It surely wouldn't be flashy, or even quick, but it would get done. He felt his body involuntarily shiver. This was a man who he wanted to hitch his wagon too. He was just about to say so, when in walked his future sister-in-law, her platinum blonde hair reaching just past the small of her back. Her body moved with the grace of a ballerina. His heart skipped a beat, a side effect of her weak yet still present veela allure. Even though Charlie had always been attracted to men and never women, he could see how aesthetically pleasing Fleur Delacour was.
Harry took in the beautiful women. Her skin sunkissed, most of it covered by a sundress, her plump perfect lips was lifted into an easy smile laughing at something her fiance had said. She looked like she had flooed in from somewhere very warm. Harry hardened his mind fortress and the almost unnatural attraction left. Harry looked at her speculatively, wondering what had caused such a reaction. He made a mental note to ask about it later when Arthur Weasley stepped through the door, shivering ever so slightly from the nippy air, closing the door behind him he spotted Harry just standing there.
"Harry, nice to see you again. I'm Arthur Weasley. We weren't able to be properly introduced at the meeting the other day, after that tête-a-tête with Dumbledore." the man said in a genial tone. "If there's anything you need, just let me know, and I'll see what I can do."
"Actually there is one-" he was cut off abruptly as Lily stepped back into the room, eyes roaming over the new arrivals.
Just as it looked like she was about to say something the door was opened again and this time it was the enigmatic Sirius Black, followed by an older women who looked remarkably similar to the crazy lady who Harry had seen not only at the Department of Mysteries but also sitting at the right hand of Lord Voldemort, when he had stormed the manor.
He tensed, grabbing tightly to his wand ready to jump into action, if the situation required it, but seeing her interact with all the already guests, he relaxed slightly.
Looking closer he saw many similarities, but he also found plenty of differences as well. Age had played a larger role on the lines on her face, but insanity much less so, where the other woman had frizzy, crazy hair that looked like it perpetually had static electricity running through it, but this woman's hair was glossy and smooth. Instead of insane eyes, her eyes were surrounded by laugh lines.
Behind her came a man who was about a head shorter than the black haired witch, his belly showing a bit of a paunch with thinning grey hair atop his glistening head. He was laughing uproariously at something Sirius Black had said.
Behind him walked a young woman. Her hair was an eye watering shade of pink, and she had on a simple graphic tee with a weird design of two men holding guitars, with the letters AC/DC written across the top in bold silver letters.
"Everyone's here, so why don't we sit down and enjoy this lovely meal made by the fabulous Mrs Weasley?"
With her name being said Molly stepped out and gave a quick little bow. Polite applause rang out from the gathered crowd with wolf whistles came from Charlie, Molly gave him a withering look and looked only slightly ashamed, the witch with the pink hair elbowed charlie and the two shared a look.
"Let's all sit down and enjoy this wonderful feast." Lily said, deciding to cut the rest of her speech short.
A/N Thank you to ChiaroscuroGirl for Betaing