A/N Disclaimer, Still don't own Jack, Hey I barely own my OCs
Harry found himself wedged next to Bill Weasley, with Arthur Weasley sitting across from him. They were silent for a few moments while they loaded up their plates with all sorts of delicacies.
"You were saying something I could do to help," Arthur said conversationally, "until we were so rudely interrupted," he said, waving a hand at the relative newcomers.
Harry swallowed the bite of food before speaking, "Who are they anyway?"
"That," Arthur pointed to the witch who looked like the crazy one he had fought "is Andromeda Tonks, and that is her husband Ted Tonks," he said, indicating the short balding man sitting next to her.
"She looks very similar to a woman who seems very close to the Dark Lord," Harry said.
"Bellatrix LeStrange," Arthur said, nodding. "Sisters, close as anything if the stories are to be believed, but they had a falling out when Andy married Ted, a Muggleborn. She was stricken from the Black family-"
"Wait Black, as in that Sirius Black?" he asked, indicating the man joking with James Potter.
"The one and the same," Arthur confirmed, "Cousins. Anyway, the pink-haired one there, flirting with Charlie, is Nymphadora Tonks, too bad she hasn't realized that he's gay." Arthur had to work to hide a smirk.
"Anyway, you were saying something I could do to help?" He said turning serious.
"Oh yes, that's right I was talking to Mad-Eye Moody about some stuff, he said that if I needed some contacts in the Muggle world, you're the guy I should talk to."
Arthur shrugged modestly, "I might know some people, what do you need?"
"I need to buy more ordinance, some more rounds."
"How many?"
"As many as I can, preferably I would purchase, not a set amount, but rather a system so that I'd never run out again."
"That would be extremely expensive," Arthur said, "I believe I can help you, but I'm just warning you that the expense will be possibly larger than you're expecting."
"Did you hear about the raid on Malfoy Manor?" Harry asked.
"I do believe I've heard something."
"I wondered what that was," Bill cut in, "I overheard Director Ragnok saying something about House Getthen and how he hoped that the initial investment would be enough, I had no idea who he was talking about at the time."
Arthur looked thoughtful, "I'd say that whoever the goblins paid that money to was a very lucky individual. But while I'm thinking about it, why do you need rounds?" He asked looking thoughtful
"Were you at the Department of Mysteries?" Harry asked.
"No, neither of us were," Arthur said, "I figured it would be too suspicious for a department head, even one as lowly as I were to go down there. Our wands are tracked if we work at the Ministry, so if I went down there, it wouldn't look good on me. Why, though?"
Follow me after dinner and I'll show you," was all he said. They ate in relative silence for a few more minutes before James stood up.
"If I could have your attention for just a moment," he said loudly as the room settled down, "As many of you know, but not all of you, certainly, our son Harry has returned to us!"
He lifted his goblet and toasted, "To family!"
"To family!" came the echoed cry. Only Harry remained silent, not believing anyone to be his family, at least yet. The blonde, sitting next to Bill, looked over at Harry, her eyes growing wide once she realised who she was looking at. Harry stood up in disgust, throwing his napkin on the table, leaving it in stunned silence.
"I'll be out in the barn once you're finished," he muttered to Arthur and Bill before making his way back to what he has begun calling his safe space, the place where he could be alone with no one bothering him. Just as he got to the foyer he felt a soft hand on his arm. Stopping, he turned to find the girl who was staring at him, standing there with a look of contrition evident, as well as some fire in her eyes.
"I'm sorry, Harry," she said, a hint of a foreign accent evident in her voice, "it's just that I've never seen a dead person return to life before."
"Is that all I am to you? Some apparent medical miracle to you?" Harry asked, his face a blank mask.
"No, of course not, but you do have to admit that your being here is a bit odd. Even in France, where Voldemort wasn't as big of a deal as he was here, the Ministry kept tags on him. You were not as big of a hero there as you are, or rather would be if you were known."
He calmed down as he looked at it logically. He did kind of appear in a portal after being gone for about fifteen years and it was not a miracle, but not supposed to happen.
"I apologise, I may have overreacted. Harry Potter, pleasure to meet you," he gave a small bow.
"Fleur Delacour," she said, offering a small curtsy in response.
Looking around the foyer, he saw many of the portraits talking to their occupants of other paintings. Harry doubted he would ever truly get used to the fact that the pictures moved. There was a large chandelier above them, gently spinning, diffusing the light all over the hall, creating beautiful patterns. Harry watched, entranced as the patterns changed continuously.
"So tell me, Harry Potter, what are your plans? A man like you doesn't spend a moment in an unfamiliar world without a plan."
Harry chuckled humorlessly.
"Simple, kill Voldemort."
"You don't do anything halfway, do you? What makes you so sure you even can?" she asked, looking at him quizzically. "A young man, brand new to this world, and with seemingly zero training, versus a wizard with fifty-plus years of experience," she said with a slightly sardonic tone.
Harry smiled as if he had just heard a joke that no one else could hear. It was to him.
"No, training you say? Follow me."
Just as they were about to leave the warmth of the house, Arthur and Bill caught up to them in the foyer, followed by most of the rest of the guests.
Harry sighed, annoyed.
"What is the meaning of this?"
This time it was Sirius Black who spoke up.
"I may have told these people I'm paying you five thousand galleons a month to defeat Lord Voldemort, and they wanted to see what my investment is good for."
He felt a ball of anger well up in his chest, who were these people to go blabbing about potentially war-winning secrets? The only reason he was showing Arthur and Bill was that they needed to know. They needed to understand why Harry required muggle contacts, aside from the idea that cutting yourself off from ninety percent of the world simply because they were different from you was a monumentally stupid idea, these 'wizards' still used candles for God's sake.
At least these muggles innovated. In all the research he did, in both muggle and magical subjects, he discovered that muggles were about on par with Cygar in their technological advancement. The only thing they lacked was magitech. Deciding that the cat was already out of the bag, he motioned for the group to follow him out to the barn.
There were oohs and ahs when Harry opened the door to the barn and everyone saw the mech standing there, pulling on the melding helmet he climbed into the mech and began running through a simple routine.
Fleur looked on in rapt fascination as this boy, no, young man, got into a giant robot and seemingly started to manoeuvre it like it was simply a part of him. She watched as the robot controlled by this man hefted an eight-foot-long sword and began using it like a man possessed every move perfectly calibrated, perfectly planned.
She felt a wicked smile across her face. With such a weapon on their side, winning was virtually guaranteed. She would have to ask Harry if it was possible to get another one, not for her, but rather for Viktor. The Cruciatus he had been under during the Triwizard Tournament had destroyed his ability to play quidditch at a high level. He could still dominate the lower leagues but she knew it was eating him up inside. The three kept in very close contact ever since the Tournament.
She watched as Harry climbed out of the robot, or rather mech as he called it, and she realised she missed the latest of the performance.
She overheard Arthur say something along the lines of "What calibre?"
She couldn't hear Harry's response as Bill walked up beyond her and wrapped his arms around her waist and whispered in her ear.
"What's going on in that pretty little head of yours?"
She stood there for a second, luxuriating in the feel of his arms around her, his body heat radiating into her lightly chilled body.
"Just wondering how hard it would be to make another one," she said.
"You want your own? Do you?" Bill asked, nibbling on her ear.
"No, I mean, yes, I do, but I was mainly asking for Viktor's sake," she responded, a twinge of sadness evident in her voice.
The next morning Harry found himself in muggle London, standing outside a massive building with the name Barclay's written across the top. Straightening his shoulders he marched in, this time being flanked by Mr Weasley. Finding a notice board, he scanned it until he saw David Taylor, Vice President of Investment, thirtieth floor, walking over to the elevator bank he marvelled at the opulence of the building. Where Gringotts looked old-fashioned and imposing, Barclay's looked modern in the way of trashy reality show billionaires.
"Now, Harry, let me do the talking once we're inside, I know David quite well." Arthur Weasley said.
While most of the wizarding world saw the Weasleys as poor because they didn't have a lot of gold inside of their Gringotts vault, they didn't know that Arthur invested most of his money in the muggle world. While no one would accuse Arthur and Molly of being extremely wealthy, they had built a decent-sized nest egg, and it was growing at a very respectable five percent per year. By the time Ginny was done with Hogwarts, he and Molly could live quite comfortably, if they ever decided to convert back to galleons.
Stopping outside of a very large office Harry waited for the red-headed young woman to look up from her computer. He noticed that she caked on quite a lot of makeup, and where Lily's hair was a darker, more muted shade of auburn, this girl's hair was much more vibrant, almost glaringly red. She was dressed in a very tightfitting blouse and blazer, one that Harry had to wonder if it was work appropriate, but deciding it was none of his business, he ploughed ahead.
"I'm here to meet with David Taylor," he said in as commanding a tone as he could.
She looked him up and down trying to gauge him, he wore his usual uniform of specially softened black denim and a black leather jacket, the common outfit for pilots, as it was comfortable and allowed for the best insulation and range of motion. His hair was cropped short to his scalp, allowing for a decent seal with his meld helmet.
"Do you have an appointment with him?" the secretary asked dismissively, already putting him out of her mind as just another street punk who thought they were big shit because their father was a big shot in the nearby corporations.
"I was told to meet with him at my convenience."
Intrigued, she said, "He's busy at the moment but if you give me a name I can let him know who stopped by."
"Harry Getthen."
As she typed the name into her computer she saw the young man give a quick shake of his head to his companion, an older looking man with well-kept, almost orange head of hair, wearing clothes that were almost out of fashion, but well made.
She let out a quick welp of surprise as the name Harry Getthen popped on the scene with the note attached - contact David Taylor immediately. Looking closer at the young man standing in front of her, she couldn't tell anything about him, except when she concentrated she could barely feel repressed power radiating from him, like no matter where he was he was the most dangerous, most important man in the room. She gulped quietly as she dialled the extension to her boss's phone.
"He's here," she said in a low voice, but as she looked, the man in question didn't seem to be paying her any mind. Instead, he seemed to be fascinated by the fish tank the office had, just staring as the fish flitted by.
"Who's here?" he asked, sounding slightly annoyed. She knew he usually took time out right about now to practice his golf putts and return calls. This was his most sacred time and she was not to interrupt him for any reason bar an emergency.
"Harry Getthen."
"Send him in immediately, " he said, sounding almost panicked. "Great work, Tiffany, absolutely impeccable work."
He only ever said that to her when she pulled his arse out of the fire. She was attractive, she knew that everyone knew that, she was also a bloody good secretary, she was the full package. Sure, she played up the dumb bimbo for her boss, but she had graduated top of her class at the London School of Economics, and she took this job as a stepping stone to bigger and brighter things.
"You can go in now,'' she said as she pushed a button opening the door to David Taylor's office.
Stepping inside, Harry couldn't help but notice all of the memorabilia in the room. There were a lot of balls with different signatures, none of which Harry even tried to decipher.
The door swung shut with a click.
"Impressive, isn't it?" Harry saw an older gentleman, somewhere in his mid-fifties walk through the door on the other side, wearing a well-tailored suit with silver buttons and cufflinks.
"Hello Arthur, what brings you here today?" he asked, shaking Arthur's hand. "No problem with your investments, I hope."
"No, no, of course not, I'm just here to escort my young charge around, you know how most wizards are."
"Only too well, it would blow their tiny little minds if they knew how much you had in muggle wealth," David said.
He grabbed a single orange ball from the lines of balls, most of which were white and black with octagonal panels - but the orange one was different.
"This is my pride and nay, at least as far as muggle sports go. I bought this at an auction. It was signed by Michael Jordan, the best basketball player to ever live. While it's not properly British, I think it's an amazing sport, possibly the best sport ever invented by muggles. It's no quidditch oh, speaking of…"
His eyes lit up as he took out a wand and gave it a quick swish as the walls all rotated and new balls and shirts appeared.
"Is that the Quaffle from the World Cup a couple of years ago?" Arthur asked, his eyes growing wide, "signed by the Irish Chasers too?"
"It is indeed, it is indeed."
Harry's head was spinning. Basketball, quidditch, chasers? Harry didn't understand a word of that.
Charging forward, he turned to David.
"As fascinating as this all is Mr Taylor, I was told you wanted to meet with me, and while I don't wish to be rude but I have other places to be."
"Oh right, of course, my apologies." his demeanour changed in an instant.
"Welcome to Barclay's, we thank you for banking with us, and while we do have just a simple account, at a very generous two and a half percent, if you allow our analysts, we can grow your money at around five percent a year, through very robust investment portfolios."
Harry thought about it. However, he was hesitant, he needed the liquid cash to be able to purchase the necessary ordinance.
"Let me guess, you need liquid cash," David said, sensing Harry's hesitation. "What we can do is borrow against your Gringotts account at an interest rate of 3 percent and you can use that as your liquid cash."
Harry nodded his ascent, liking the plan.
"I think that will be agreeable."
David handed him a card.
"That's my personal number, as well as floo address. If you ever need anything please do not hesitate to call me for any reason."
"I appreciate it," Harry said truthfully.
"If you'll wait right there, I'll get you a card you can use for purchases anywhere in the world, Barclay's has either a branch or agreements with major banks in every country barring Afghanistan and Iraq."
He left the office leaving Harry staring wide-eyed at Arthur Weasley, Arthur chuckled.
"David is a lot I'll admit, but he's very good at his job, you're in good hands."
David walked back into the room holding a black rectangular-looking thing and handed it to Harry.
"That's the Barclay's Black Infinite Card. It has essentially no limit on it, and it will be paid off through your Gringotts account at the end of every month."
Accepting the card gratefully, Harry and Arthur left the building. Turning to Arthur, Harry asked, "Where to next?"
"Molly's cousin is a squib, he works as an accountant at Britain's premier arms manufacturer. I set up lunch with him at a nice little place not far from here. He turned and began making his way down the crowded London street."
"A squib?" Harry asked.
"Someone born of two wizard parents, but no magic of their own. A reverse Muggleborn."
"Ah," Harry said in understanding.
He fell silent as he watched cars zip by at impossible speeds, loud signs proclaiming every type of care product you could care to imagine, and women dressed in little more than tassels. So many buildings, all seemingly screaming for attention. Finally, they came to a little outdoor cafe, where a man who looked remarkably similar to Molly Weasley stood up and hugged Arthur.
As they sat down to eat, a perky teenage server came out of the building.
"Hi, I'm Bonnie, I'll be your server today, what can I get for you to drink?"
"You know what Bonnie." Simon said with a smile, "we'll just take the specials"
"Of course sir, will that be all?"
He glanced around the table and they both shook their heads. "I do believe so."
"I'll have those right out for you," she said with a smile.
Once she had left the men alone, Simon asked, "What was so important you made me come out all this way when there's a perfectly good cafe right next to my workplace?"
"I was led to believe that you work for an arms manufacturer," Harry said, taking the lead.
"I do, what's it to you?"
Harry looked at Arthur for help, unsure of how much to reveal.
"Harry here is looking for as much thirty millimetre ammunition that BAE can sell to him, on a long-term contract," Arthur added helpfully
"Thirty millimetre, why? Only the heaviest of heavy weapons use a calibre that big."
"Exactly." Harry said, "I need as much as I can reasonably buy from you."
"Why?"Simon asked.
"I'm going to kill Voldemort with it," Harry said, with a smug smile evident on his face. Their conversation was interrupted by the server bringing three shepherd's pies.
"Are these together or separate? she asked.
"Together." Simon answered, waiting for the waitress to disappear, he spoke up again, "I'm sure neither of you has any muggle money on you."
"Actually," Harry said, pulling out the wallet they had bought on their way to the cafe, and pulled out the card David Taylor had given him
"Do you have an A-10 warthog?" Simon asked, more curious than concerned.
"Something like that." Harry said, "Come to Belladonna House one of the days and find out."
"What do I tell my boss?" Simon asked, "I can't exactly sell an appreciable amount of 30 millimetre ammo to private citizens, now, can I?"
"Tell them a new paramilitary contractor group out of Switzerland is mobilising and they want only the best of the best," Arthur said.
Simon sighed resignedly.
"I don't suppose you have paperwork for it?"
"Not yet, but I'll owl the paperwork by tomorrow. Besides, Harry's good for it, did you hear about that explosion up in the north earlier this week?"
"What of it? The news said it was just some IRA bombing some wealthy wanker's place," Simon said in a non-committal tone.
"What if I told you that was a Death Eater stronghold, in fact, the Dark Lord's base of operations, and before it was destroyed, it was first relieved of all its valuables, which were then sold to Gringotts."
His eyes went wide as he connected the dots and looked at Harry, who just simply nodded.
"Get me that paperwork, and I'll get you your ammunition," Simon said with a grin
A/N Yet another longer A/N, but bear with me guys, I know this is drifting into indy!Harry has a billion titles and more money than the 50 next richest people combined, but I'm in control here guys, don't think I've jumped the shark yet. Anyway Please be patient, Harry is logical, and it costs a lot to fund what is essentially a walking tank. And also regarding him leaving the dinner table, the whole time he's been back, he's been gawked at, and Fleur was the straw that broke the camel's back Also shout out to ChiaroscuroGirl for Betaing