Peter Pettigrew, Most Wanted
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Isdh
AN:Yes there is a story with a very similar title and content by the Skilled Writer BlightPhoenix. My work will be different enough to be mine, but the idea for the story is based on his work.
AN: There are many ways to name the goblins, and how their society works. My favorite; Mr Norell's form 'Sympathetic Properties'.
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Harry J Potter collapsed on his bed. It was not even 10:00, and the heat was becoming oppressive.
'Home' for the Holidays, after his diseaster of a fourth year. The Triwizard Tournament. The Death of Diggeroy. And then the public mocking when he reported the Return of Lord Voldermort.
He had to stay awake until 10:45am, for when Hedwig was due in, flying an important letter to and from the Bank. The letter he sent had inquired about the ancient practice of 'Bounty Hunting', as well as asking for a rough estimate on the liquid assets at his disposal. He had read in his History of Magic book that one Wizard not having the time nor skill to hunt down another, offered the one thing he did have… Gold.
He looked at his bedside clock, a baby-ben. A foot tall replica of 'Ole Big Ben' that was a few years older than Harry, and had fallen out of style, so Aunt Petunia 'gave' it to the 'boy'. He still had over half an hour, until she was due.
With a groan, Harry sat up and … drew his wand on the goblin standing in his doorway.
"Impressive. I had just arrived, when you had me covered with your wand." the shorter male ground out.
"As my combat instructor is fond of saying; Constant Vigilance!" Harry stood and tucked the wand out of sight, did not sheath it. The goblin noted, and grinned, showing his teeth. "Apologies for almost driving it up your nose, though it is a good way to kill a troll."
The Goblin, noting that the boy did not apologize for drawing the wand, just raised an eyebrow. "Lord Potter, Why have you not answered any of our requests to visit the Home Office?"
Harry frowned, looking at the short, silk suited, Snarling Banker. "Home Office?" thinking of the Muggle Department of the British Government.
"The Bank. You passed through in late July of '91, filled a bag with Gold, and left. You never returned to fill out your paperwork for your Heirship, nor for when you were raised to Lordship." the short and twisted guy sneered. "Then you have the audacity to Demand a full Audit of your Accounts?"
Harry stiffened up. "Among the Muggleborn and -raised, the term 'Home Office' is like Wizards' DMLE." Bringing his right hand forward, but reversing his grip on his wand, "One, I have Never received any requests to come to the Bank. The only Mail I get is from Hogwarts, the Ministry, or what my owl carries. Two, I ASKed for a 'rough estimate' of my trust vault, not a full audit. Three, What do you mean, Lordship?"
The Goblin blinked, as it concealed its teeth. "Nothing in the last five years?"
"Nope"
"Can you spare a few hours to take care of the paperwork now?"
"Yes." Bounded to his feet, "And I can see about getting the paperwork for my bounty started as well.
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Harry stepped out of the Bank's Grand Doors, into the oppressive Sun. Breathing deep, he stepped off the top step, into empty street. Being just after 2:30 in the afternoon, the Heat was at its worst, and beginning to cool. Looking longingly at Fortescue's as he trotted to Madam Malkin's for a set of Silk Robes.
As he entered the Seamstress's shop, he had a flashback to his first stop here.
"Can We help you Deary?" a 'healthy' matron and two young sales-witches approach him from their make-work. "Here for you Hogwarts' Robes? A bit early is it not?"
Harry grinned at her. "Too early indeed. I need a full wardrobe overhaul. Muggle style as well as robes." He frowned sourly at the 'rags' he was wearing, "I am here to get the basics. I apologize, but for the Fancy things, my Account Manager advised Twilfit's. After you work your magic, I will walk out of here in Silk Robes in House Potter Colours. As my Former Mentor, Glidroy Lockhart, advised me; 'always look your best, even on your worst day'." He followed the matron to the fitting area. "From what I have seen of Twilfits work, great for High Society gatherings and the Like, but the craftsmanship needs… It is just not what one wears when one goes shopping unless you want to scream 'I am Stupid Rich, Rob ME!.'" he blink at the shop-witches who were giggling.
"So, how much of what are you needing?" Milkin asked as she waved the 'Lad' on to the stool.
"I was thinking three silk with the Crests in place, two silk without, will be needing one on the way out. Prefer the open front over a vest and trousers look. Both Tie and Ascot, please. Two of each." He stretched his arms to the sides.
"Love Pockets on those you finish, Deep, and undetectable?" He turned so they could measure the other side. "Will be needing boots, both ankle and knee high."
Milkin was scribbling notes on a scrap of parchment, "The Silk?"
"Standard will do."
"The Boots, Cow hide, or Dragon?"
"Cow. Still growing, or at least I hope so. I will be needing two years of growth charms on everything."
"Camillia, from the third rack of silks, Slate Grey and Base Brown. Hazel, Size him for Boots." Milkin tucked an arm through his, guiding him to an old clockwork till. As she stepped behind the counter she slipped on a pair of half frame cat-eye glasses. Displaying a skill and grace that only comes from years of experience, She ran up his order. "Five silk robes, three crests, five vests and trews. Two ties, two ascots, and two boots… that brings your bill due to; GG653 SS13. will that be coin, draft, or … Ring impression" She finished as the Potter Lordship phased in on his finger. Two more buttons… than she pulled a leaver* on the side. From the side on the register, two sheets of parchment were spit out. Ripping them off, she had him stamp his ring hard on one, before pocketing the other.
*(It is not a lever, but a Leaver. Got to the accent behind it, like Benny the Cab from Roger the Rabbit; 'Pull the Leaver!')
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