Hey, everyone! Mystery Critic here, back at you with another chapter of Ma Fleur! That cliffhanger last time was quite the doozy, wasn't it? I have had so many people being pissed off at the return of the cliffhanger king. Well, I'll try my best not to leave this chapter with a cliffhanger... Or will I? I guess you'll just have to read to find out, won't you? As for the popularity of this story, never in my wildest dreams could I ever predict this many people would love it! I mean, 775 followers when I'm writing this! Not a day is going by where I don't see a bunch of emails saying I have a new follower on my story, or following me as an author. I am so honored that so many people enjoy my writing, and I will do my best not to let anyone down. If my writing is a little dry, bear with it. Every story needs filler, and I write from midnight to three in the morning, come on! Just so you know, I accept constructive criticism, but any flames will be used to bake cookies for my loyal fans! As for the disclaimer, I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the rights affiliated with it. Also, a side note, this story will be in the General POV for the foreseeable future, so I won't even bother with the POV notes for now. Anywho, now with all of that out of the way, sorry for the long author's note. Now, sit back, relax, and enjoy chapter nine of Ma Fleur, Ma Ange, Mon Tout!
Chapter 9
Italics - French
"Bloody fucking hell!" Harry yells, staggering back as he places a hand on the chair behind him to steady himself. "Are you kidding me?!"
"On the contrary, youngling." Sharpblade says, a feral grin on his face. "I am far from kidding you. The parchment never lies."
"So... I'm Lord of three houses and a Morgana be damned billionaire?!" Harry asks incredulously, having to sit down so he doesn't fall down. "How in the name of Merlin's hairy left goose egg is this even possible?!"
Letting out a loud bark of laughter, Sharpblade looks back at the boy in front of him before breaking down into peals of uncontrollable laughter. After wiping a tear of mirth from his eye, he looks back at Harry and suppressed any further cases of the giggles. "That's multi-billionaire, and it's actually quite simple, mister Potter." He says, taking the parchment back and a serious look forming upon his face, formed from centuries of business practice. "Once you adorn the first ring, you'll be Lord of House Potter, and you'll become emancipated. Upon being emancipated, you'll be able to adorn the Peverell ring, as your blood is the least diluted when it comes to the Peverell line, and as such, you're the most eligible to claim the Lordship. There are most likely others, but they don't qualify as you do. Finally, there's being Lord Slytherin. You earned that title by Right of Conquest; an age-old law upon defeating Lord of a House three times, you may take control of that house if you so wish. You have defeated one self-proclaimed Lord Voldemort three times now, correct?"
"I mean, technically, yeah, but..." Harry begins, his mind trailing off, the implications of being this high in the social ladder being quite overwhelming. "Does this mean I have to do anything?"
"Not technically, no." Sharpblade began, taking out three boxes from under his deck. "You may choose to take your seats upon the Wizenagamot upon turning seventeen, if you so wish."
"And the other option is...?" Harry asked, a smirk appearing on Sharpblade's face again before he gestures to the boxes and behind him.
"Enjoy a simple and relaxed life of luxury. You wouldn't have to work, nor would your family run out of money anytime in the next several centuries, no matter how much you spend."
"How am I this rich?!" He yelled, completely gobsmacked.
"Well, your grandfather, Fleamont Potter invented SleakEazy's Hair Potion, and that still brings in quite a substantial amount of royalties every month, as it is used around the world." Sharpblade explained, looking at the amazed youngling in amusement. "As for the Peverell family, they have millions in jewels, as the family has spent centuries exploring the world, finding whatever they could. The Slytherin family, well, let's just say that that's one of the most substantial vaults in the entire bank. Now, may I ask if you are ready to take your Lordship rings?"
Harry was completely and totally flabbergasted. He could live like a king for years, never having to worry about anything. Getting his mind back in control, he looks at Sharpblade hesitantly before asking. "Sharpblade, what if I wanted to work? As a Lord of three Houses, or whatever, can I still work if I want to? I kinda wanted to become an Auror, or maybe a Cursebreaker."
"What in the world makes you think you wouldn't be able to work if you wanted to?" Sharpblade asks, a look of delighted confusion plastered on his face. "Now, come along. Claim these rings on and get out. Some of us have work to do."
Chuckling as Sharpblade winks at Harry, he nods, allowing the gnarled goblin to push the boxes forward, pointing to a deep red on first. Harry reaches forward and opens it, a shining silver ring shining out, rubies adorning the band. A large ruby rests in the center, and a small griffon insignia made of gold is spread against the top of the ruby. Taking it out, Harry slips it on his right middle finger, a small tingle passing through his body as the ring accepts him as the Head of House. Looking up at Sharpblade in confusion, he gets a raised eyebrow in response. "Is... Is that it?" Harry asks hesitantly.
"Well, what were you expecting? A big flash of light, some magical blast, or something?"
"Um, kinda?"
"Of course not." Sharpblade chuckles. "Where on Earth would you get that stupid idea?"
"I'm going to kill you, Ron..." Harry mutters, grumbling something about saturating lust potions and letting the Whomping Willow have his way with him. "Well, is there anything I should know about the other two?"
"Oh, now you ask!" Sharpblade snaps in fake annoyance. "Well, the Potter ring will protect the head from most curses, hexes, and jinxes, barring the Unforgivables and other truly Dark Magicks, like Fiendfyre. The Peverell ring will detect things like wards and harmful runes. Finally, the Slytherin ring will protect you from all harmful potions, poisons, and the like, rendering them ineffective, as well as detecting them. Upon the Peverell or Slytherin ring detecting anything like what I've described, they will heat up and shake. It's kind of hard to miss, youngling. Now, here. Put on the Peverell ring."
Opening the next box, a beautiful light brown oak box, Harry pulls out the ring and examines it. It was a simple ring made of obsidian, shining as beautifully as the night sky, a small symbol of what looked like an eye in simple silver. After making a mental note to ask Hermione to research that symbol, Harry shrugs and slips the ring onto his right ring finger. As soon as it resizes into place, a blue glow surrounds his body, several brown glows surrounding the blue glow. He looks up at Sharpblade for an explanation, and receives a head scratch in return before the goblin responds. "The only thing I can think of is that there was a ward of some kind on you, and the ring neutralized it. Several of them, from what it looks like. The blue one, to my best guess, was maybe a magical core binder. Quite a powerful one, at that. The others looked like monitoring charms linked to you and the same person who cast the core binder. However, that's just my best guess."
"You knew exactly what each of those were, didn't you?" Harry asks in a deadpan.
"You insult me, youngling!" Sharpblade says, feigning hurt. "Why would I tell you I don't know what they mean, then tell you what they mean?"
"Probably because you're a bloody twat, that's why." Harry responds, rolling his eyes.
"I knew I liked you, youngling!" The goblin yells before letting loose another booming laugh. After a minute or so, he wipes another few tears from his eyes before speaking again. "Yes, I knew what they were. It matters not now, however, it's over and done with. Let an old goblin have his fun!"
"Git." Harry says, doing the mature thing and sticking his tongue out at the goblin.
"Kraglixhin." The goblin answers, sticking his tongue back out in kind. After receiving a confused stare from Harry, Sharpblade shakes his head with a sigh. "It means 'prat' in your language."
"Oh. Can you teach me some swears in your language?" Harry responds, enthusiasm and excitement in his voice.
"Normally, we wouldn't teach any wizard our language, as they call it that ridiculous name, but since you called it our language instead, I'd be happy to." Sharpblade says with a chuckle. "I'll send the list of some good ones next week. Sound good?"
"Wicked! Thanks, Sharpblade!" Harry says, raising his hand for a high-five before remembering who he was talking to and lowering it back down.
"Hey!" Sharpblade snaps, a smirk on his face when Harry looks back up. "Put that back up, I was going to use it!"
Smiling brightly, Harry raises his hand back up and Sharpblade responds with a loud slapping high-five. "Now, how about we get this last ring on you and get you out of my office, eh, ya little brat?"
"Sure thing, ya old coot." Harry responds cheekily, getting another smirk from the goblin sitting across from him. He opens the black wood and green velvet box, pulling out a silver ring with diamonds around the band, and a large emerald with a snake carved in the surface and filled with white gold. Harry slips it on his right pinky finger, and it resizes and he feels another tingle pass through him.
"Good!" Sharpblade barks, getting up and patting Harry on the back after walking around and placing a pad of paper in his lap. "One last thing, here's a bank transcript. They work kind of like muggle checks. Ask your guardian how they work, he'll tell you. Now do me a favor and beat it. My mate will be pissed if I get home late."
Walking towards the door, Harry opens it before turning back for one more quip. "So, your mate is the one who wears the pants, right?" Harry ducks out of the way of a bright flash of purple light, laughing as he runs down the hall.
"Cheeky little bugger." Sharpblade mutters before pressing a rune on his desk. "Griphook, lead Lord Potter out, will you? That boy is going places, and we need to be allies with him. He's a hoot, and I think High King Ragnok will enjoy his humor."
-Fleur-
Walking out of Gringott's, Harry spots Jacques and Fleur standing next to him. Running up to Fleur, he picks her up and spins her around, delighting in the squeals of laughter coming from her as he spins her around. "Hey, Fleur!" he says, setting her down and hugging her to him. "I missed you!"
"'Arry, we've only been apart for a few hours, you silly man!" She responds with a gentle swat on his shoulder.
"Yeah, and it was a few hours too long!" Harry retorts with a fake pout. "I missed you, so sue me."
"Non," She says, bending over to kiss him gently on the nose. "I zink I shall keep you."
"I'd be an idiot to argue with that!" He said, grinning from ear to ear. "I may not have been put in Ravenclaw, but I'm smart enough to know that what a pretty witch says goes."
"Well, 'Arry." Jacques says, tossing his hands in the air in fake exasperation. "Zere is nozzing left for me to teach you. You already know everyzing zere is to know to pleasing your wife. Just say 'yes, dear.' All zere is to it."
"Papa!" Fleur squeals, smacking him on the shoulder. "Be'ave or I will tell Maman!"
Raising his hands in a placating manner in front of his chest in surrender, he smirked at Fleur and winked at Harry before turning towards the rest of the alley. "Now, where to?"
"Well, I think that I should buy everyone some ice cream at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, best ice cream in Wizarding Britain." Harry said, waving the pad around him. "So, who should buy? Lord Potter, Lord Peverell, or Lord Slytherin?"
Fleur and Jacques' jaws drop as they stared at him in disbelief. Harry simply turns and walks down the alley towards the shop, a smirk of victory on his face. After a few minutes, the three of them were enjoying a large sundae together, Fleur purring in happiness every time the creamy treat hit her taste buds.
"Why does she keep purring?" Harry asks, watching as she takes another bite without even hearing him. "It can't be that good, can it?"
"While it is very good, Veela have a particular... shall we say, reaction to sweets." Jacques started explaining. "Sugary sweets are like... well, zey make Veela quite happy. Zat's all you need to do to make a Veela 'appy. Chocolate, ice cream, or anyzing sugary. Zey will love you forever. Period."
"Good to know." Harry says, a smirk on his face as he takes another bite, staring at Fleur and imagining all the things he could get away with.
"I 'ave to use ze washroom. I will be back." Fleur says, standing up and walking to the back, and through a door in the back of the room.
"Wait, Florean's doesn't have a public restroom!" Harry says, fear evident on his face as they dash towards the back door. They burst out through the door and see a man in a black robe with a silver mask carrying a sack, someone inside squirming around. Tossing a scroll to the ground with a smirk, he disapparates out of the alley as Harry and Jacques get their wands out. "FLEUR! GOD DAMN IT, NO!"
Bending down, Jacques picks up the scroll and unfurls it and reads it out loud. "We 'ave all three of the creatures. Bring one 'undred million galleons to ze North end of Greenwich Park by noon tomorrow, or we sell zem to someone. Or maybe we'll..." Jacques's voice dies out before picking it back up again in a shaky tone. "...play wiz zem ourselves…"
MWAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! I did say I'd try my best to not end the chapter with a cliffhanger! Well, I tried my best, and I decided it was worth it. To my number one fan, you know who you are, I did say it may be happening soon. I guess sooner than you thought. Again, if the story is a little dry, remember, I am writing from midnight to three in the morning, add in a filler chapter or two, you can be left with a little dryness. I did try to add in humor, and as a lot of you will be asking about Sharpblade and the other goblins, I plan on making him a sort of friend/mentor/big brother to our favorite unlucky, raven-haired friend. The goblin nation will soon be accepting Harry as a whole, due to the respect not many other wizards or witches (*cough cough* Lily. *cough cough*) give to them. Anywho, constructive criticism is still accepted, flames will be used to make magic brownies. As usual, read, review, and spread this shit like wildfire! This Mystery Critic, signing off.