February 1998.
The whole idea behind the foundation sounded much simpler in Harry's mind than its execution was. It demanded a tremendous amount of work, and Harry threw himself into his new project with gusto, completely disregarding every other aspect of his life. He consulted with the portraits, read numerous books about the economy, poked around the ministry to get needed data, and pestered Draco about the numbers over and over again.
Once he familiarized himself with the basics of it, he started to realize how different the two worlds actually were, muggle and magical ones. Sure, they shared some of the same economic problems like monopoly, but other than that, they were fairly different.
For instance, Harry was surprised to find out there was no such thing as mass production in their world. Every item, good, or product was personally charmed, enchanted, and designed by a witch or a wizard, and that pretty much explained the reason behind higher prices of brooms or rarer potions. It also explained the great variety between seemingly the same items, giving society a broad choice if one were in a need of the specific product.
Another thing that caught him out of his guard was the realization that there was no inflation in the magical world because, well, gold was gold, and its worth hasn't changed for centuries. There was a limited supply of it, and therefore the ministry was fully aware of how it was distributed among the people and able to track it accordingly. Funnily enough, the only problem with their currency was trading it off for muggle money, for goblins had no use for the pieces of paper muggleborns brought into their world, but were conditioned by the law to have an exchange rate. It was the constant loss for the bank and goblins couldn't do anything about it because of another set of laws that forbid magical creatures to have any part in the muggle economy. It sucked for goblins, Harry concluded at the end.
Import and export were practically non-existent, as magic allowed them to grow and bred most of the needed potion and wand ingredients, with a few exotic plants and animals being exceptions. Sometimes brooms and newer, unique products were traded, but countries tended to have a steady chain of supply to take care of all of the needs of the society.
Because of such poor worldwide connections, Harry found out, new discoveries and old magics were also hidden from most of the world, as ministries liked to keep their secrets, books, and spells tightly close, and almost jealously guarded them against the rest. It was no surprise that Riddle came off as such a strong wizard, with all the traveling he did in his youth, and Harry was sure that his past enemy learned all there was to.
With a sigh, Harry closed the latest book he studied, thinking about the course of the action. It took him a lot of time, months even, but he believed everything was prepared for his endeavor. Except, of course, for the most important parts of it. He needed ministry permission to buy a business that might help him with the foundation, he needed to run the whole thing with the goblins, and he had to bully his friends into accepting to be a part of his project.
It was a simple idea. He will buy a potion-making business, employ few competent potion masters to actually keep the thing running, and bring him some sort of a profit. On the other hand, he will employ as many of his friends as he could, and his reports will be filled with expenses that don't exist. That expenses and imaginary salaries his friends would receive would actually be Harry's money, taxed, spent in the eyes of the ministry. In reality, however, the money would just go from one vault to another, minus the taxes, and Harry would be free to use it to do some actual good.
He intended to split his foundation into two parts; each of which will deal with a different problem. One part is to be free-interest loans, intended for those who wanted to repair their shops in Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade or start a new, modest business. The other part would deal with the most unfortunate amongst them, such as ones whose wands were broken, who lost everything, or were bitten during the war.
"Kreacher," Harry finally yelled, mentally preparing himself for what was about to come.
"Yes, master?" the elf immediately responded.
"I need clean robes, dangerous ones," he replied, knowing that elf would know what he meant.
"Master is visiting the minister?"
"Only if I have to," he muttered. "I'd probably be able to sort it out without him, though."
(...)
Boy, how wrong he was.
It seemed like the whole ministry had the same orders: 'Do not allow anything to Harry James Potter.'
How convenient for Kingsley.
Harry went to three different offices, he shouted, pleaded and threatened, but to no avail. Some officials claimed he was in the wrong place, and helpfully pointed him to the next office, others refused to let him anywhere without an appointment and some simply ran away, insisting their break is about to begin.
It didn't take a genius to figure it out, however, and Harry knew he wouldn't move forward without Kingsley. Defeated and angry, he made his way towards his office and readied himself for another political round of nonsense, emotional blackmail, and elaborate coercion.
To make it all worse, the bastard made him wait for a full twenty minutes.
"Come in, Harry," the older man said jovially, large, obviously fake smile plastered on his face. "Sit down, please."
"I'd rather stand," he responded coldly, and Kingsley's smile dropped for a second.
"Suit yourself," he shrugged and sat down. He took his time to prepare himself a drink and force Harry into the open. Harry recognized the tactic as Dumbledore often used it; using an uncomfortable silence as a way to force your interlocutor to begin the conversation. Harry didn't mind it, though, as he never really understood what one gained with it.
"Do we have a problem, Kingsley?" he asked bluntly, tired of all the bureaucracy he had to endure that day.
"I don't know, Harry. Do we?" the minister raised an eyebrow, his smile gone.
Harry smiled humorlessly and sat down. Harry could play that game too. "I got one, to be honest.
"Oh?" Kingsley responded, a hint of mock in his voice. "How convenient. I have a problem too."
"Was about to buy potion business, reckoned to build something out of the Potter name," Harry continued in a friendly manner as if he hadn't heard the minister. "Imagine my surprise when I found out how much paperwork it demanded, heh."
"Potions?" Kingsley asked, a genuine surprise in his tone. "Weren't you abysmal at them?"
"I'm doing it mostly to spite Snape," Harry chuckled and Kingsley joined him. For a short moment, it was like it used to be, but some things weren't to last, and the duo quickly straightened themselves, putting on serious expressions.
"That can be easily arranged," he said, writing it in his notes. Now to the hardest part, Harry braced himself.
"And what does ministry want from the resident savior," Harry drawled. Bless Malfoys and their speaking patterns for one could learn a lot only by listening to them.
"To serve as a liaison with Goblins. The previous office basically doesn't exist, and if you managed to get your vaults back, well..."
"Well?"
"They won't let us in," Kingsley simply replied.
"Oh?" Harry replied in the same tone Kingsley used just a few moments prior and smiled just like Riddle did with Slughorn all those years ago. Charming to the hilt, but eyes hard as steel. Kingsley ignored it altogether.
"There must be more vaults goblins didn't hand over when we requested it," he explained. "We want to come in, make an inventory, claim what is ours, and get out of their hair."
"You still have gold problems, huh?" Harry tried to sound sorry but utterly failed if Kingsley's narrowed eyes were any sign.
"Unfortunately," he uttered.
"How's the fixing of Hogwarts going?" Harry asked, and Kingsley raised an eyebrow.
"It will be done just in time to open in September. Professors and volunteers are doing a wonderful job," he allowed small talk, but Harry noticed traces of wariness in his eyes.
"And Diagon?" It would do good to fish out some information as he was already here. Better to make the most out of it.
"It depends on goblins," Kingsley looked at him pointedly. "As you can see, everyone would benefit from a peaceful solution."
"Sure, everyone," Harry muttered, wondering when exactly 'everyone' became the ministry and their supporters. He didn't see how would goblins benefit by letting them take gold out of every vault they deemed fit.
"I'm glad we understood each other," Kingsley stood up, offering him his hand, and Harry accepted it.
"Of course, minister."
Harry barely managed to restrict himself from stopping at Leaky Cauldron, as he made his way towards the Gringotts. When he arrived in front of it, he noticed a small group of wizards standing in front of the entrance, muttering something among themselves, and sending nasty glances towards a guards in front of it. Harry noticed there were six guards where usually only two were situated, and hummed.
"What's this all about?" he asked the closest wizard, an old man in dark red robes who was gripping his wand a tad too strongly, as was evident by a random sparkle that escaped its tip.
"Greedy bastards won't let us in. One at the time, they said," he replied distastefully, never taking his eyes away from the closest goblin. Harry politely nodded along, noticing equally hateful faces around him.
"They gave any reasons for doing so?" Harry asked again, making eye contact with one of the guards who curtly nodded to him, and went somewhere behind.
"Security," the wizard simply replied, not providing any additional information. Harry shrugged, looked around himself one more time, and went toward the guard that has just returned.
"You are expected," goblin hopefully said once they were alone while Harry pretended not to hear annoyed shouts and mutters the public provided due to his premature entrance.
He still wasn't sure why his relationship with unlikeable creatures was as good as it was, but didn't want to think so much about it. As long as it works, who is he to question their reasons. He felt pretty safe too, as he knew that old goblin couldn't break his promise.
An ancient goblin was in the exact same pose as he was the last time Harry visited, going over some reports in front of him, and Harry patiently waited to be acknowledged. He also noticed extra measures of protection around his office. A deep unsettling feeling in his stomach told him he was in the presence of extremely powerful wards which, if Harry's hunch was correct, didn't like wizards in its reach.
"What have we done, Mr. Potter, to have to endure your attention once again?" the goblin asked, not raising his head. "Are you here just to waste more of my limited time?"
"Hardly," Harry scoffed, but old goblin still hasn't graced him with his full attention. "The ministry sent me to negotiate that impasse of yours."
This finally attracted goblins attention, and he stopped scribbling down, slowly raising his sallow-skinned head. "And what does the minster wish to do with us?"
Harry entertained his false curiosity, sure that he knew exactly what was all this about. "To be honest? He wants you to stay in line while he pluckers as much gold as he can."
"Typically," he muttered, but his eyes were filled with so much hate that Harry almost shuddered. "It won't do, Mr. Potter. It won't do at all."
He stood up, put his hand behind his back, and started to slowly pace back and forth.
"Wizards are blessed with such a short memory, I'm afraid," he started what Harry thought would be a nice, long speech. "But goblins don't forget easily. Neither do we forgive, and if it means violence so be it. What you have seen at the entrance is just the beginning, if history is any sort of a teacher, and I believe it is. I may be old, but I have enough strength for one last march for the benefit on my nation, enough wisdom to negotiate yet another deal and enough spirit to see it come trough!"
"I believe you," Harry decided after a short pause. "And my memory may be short, but I still remember our deal."
"I'm glad," the goblin nodded in recognition, and took his place one again. Harry knew there was nothing else to say about the topic, and to be honest, he didn't particularly care about the outcome of their power-struggle.
"There's another matter I wished to discuss, though, a personal issue to say," Harry changed the topic and pushed his draft towards him.
He accepted Harry's draft, and it took him just a few minutes to go over it and spot the catch Harry carefully hid in there. It wasn't for naught that goblins took care of the bank. What he thought about it, however, was carefully hidden behind his blank face.
"Mmm, interesting," he said as he put the papers down, his long fingers rhythmically hitting the table. "I'm sure you are aware of how many laws directly forbid these kinds of schemes so I'll not fret over the morality of such a course. I will, however, mention some obvious flaws of this plan of yours..."
He went on and on, picking up little mistakes Harry didn't even realize were there, pointing out improvements and recommending people who might help or benefit from his idea.
"Oh," Harry breathed out, once the goblin was done, and leaned back in his chair, thousand little thoughts going through his brain.
"Oh, indeed," Goblin muttered, taking a long pause to take a sip of his beverage. "Interesting thing, though, is that all your problems can be easily solved if you had a competent financial advisor at your side, one that also happened to be in charge of the bank.
"Oh," Harry said again, the picture slowly coming to his mind, and goblin's helpfulness finally making some sense. "Are you interested in such a position?"
"Mr. Potter," goblin looked him sternly under his glasses. "Do you think of me as of partner in crime? Or maybe as of a renegade? A petty, law-breaking swindler?"
"N-No?" Harry hesitated, and old goblin nodded.
"Then we can talk numbers."
(...)
When Harry walked out of the building, the sight in front of him was unnerving; a couple hundred of wizards and switches stood in front of it, yelling and shouting, demanding gold and entrance rights, doing odd pieces of magic to create more of the chaos.
An unhappy group of Aurors stood in the back of the crowd, muttering among themselves and pointing out various persons among the mob, but not willing to interfere. Every few seconds, a new one apparated in, but still, their numbers weren't as half as big as they would have to be to contain such an angry group.
On the opposite side, in front of the gates that were now closed, Harry noticed, stood a fully armored and armed group of goblins. They looked just as angry, showing their sharp teeth and pointing their spears forward. They also sported nasty grins, as if pleased with a possibility of spilled blood.
"Open the gates!" one obviously drunk lad yelled. Harry doubted he even owned a vault in Gringotts.
"Fuck 'em up, shall we?" another optimist shouted, much to the approval of the others.
"Give us some o' gold, will ya?" an older lady, with thick accent added, sending yet another red spell high in the air.
Harry quickly retreated from the front, trying to get through unnoticed, but it wasn't to be, as one of the Aurors quickly approached him. He recognized one of the older Aurors of the corps; Gawain Robards.
"Mr. Potter," he nodded curtly. "What's the situation?"
Harry watched him dimly for a second before he remembered he should've acted as a liaison for the ministry. Then, he chuckled, looked around himself, and raised his hands, indicating the crowd.
"What does it looks like?"
"Another fucking rebellion," Auror said grimly, glancing towards the closest Goblin. Harry was surprised to see such a hate on his face. "I gotta report back."
"You think so?" Harry followed him, curious about the situation.
"They're blood-thirsty little bastards, those goblins, and you won't see 'em happy till they spilled some wizard blood 'round here. It's always been that way," he said, but Harry didn't quite believe him. He should've been used to all the hate in the magical world, but they managed to surprise him yet again, much to his dismay. Why didn't old goblin warn him what awaited him outdoors, the bastard?
"Anyway," Harry said, glad to finish his part of a deal. "He said he won't be letting wizards in any time soon. Said that he's prepared for the violence too."
"That so?" Auror granted, looking even graver than before. "What 'bout their demands?"
"Uh, something along the lines of letting them alone, doing their business, you know, the usual."
"Fuckin' shits," Auror grunted again, and Harry decided he have had it enough. He politely nodded to the older man and retreated deeper into the alley. He made his way towards George's shop, and found the one-eared Weasley in the front of it, with an elegant pipe in one hand, and a beer in another.
"Quite the spectacle, innit?" he broadly smiled to Harry, eyeing the crowd that kept getting bigger. He quickly found another beer somewhere in his coat and pushed it in Harry's hands. "Haven't seen such a show ever since Ron dreamed mom forgot to make a breakfast."
Harry just chuckled, opening the can, and murmured his thanks. More ministry officials continued to apparate in, hurriedly running around, trying to separate drunken fights and unauthorized spellwork, but to no avail. In all the turmoil, Harry doubted they noticed that the number of goblins was slowly, but surely increasing.
"Oh, this is going to be a treat," George chuckled as one of the wizards throw his wand away and jumped on the closest Auror, swinging his arm as hard as he could.
"You reckon they gonna finish the job for the goblins?" Harry asked, smiling as well.
"You know, you might be right," Weasley accepted the joke with a crooked smile of his own He squinted his red eyes to see better, and burped loudly in the process of it.
"Ain't this whole scenario pathetic," he added after, a bit more seriously. "Two drunks, watching a whole group of drunks fighting among themselves, as the violent, bloodthirsty half-breeds calmly observe."
Harry decided not to answer as he took another sip, but smiled nonetheless. They could manage to be pathetic sometimes, he reckoned.
"I was in there just before, you know," Harry changed the topic.
"You're shitting me!" George yelled in disbelief, his eyes widening.
"Honestly," Harry smiled. "And their main bugger settled a thing down for me."
"What thing?" he asked curiously, his eyes still cemented on the angry mob.
"You see, I've got this idea..."
"Oh, shit," George interrupted him, going for his coat once again, and taking yet another alcoholic drink out of it.
"What was that all about?" Harry asked, annoyed with a ginger.
"Harry Potter got an idea," he trailed. "When in Merlin's name has that gone well?"
"No, seriously," Harry was stubborn. "This is a game-changer."
George finally seemed to get the grasp of himself, and straighten up. "Go on."
"Alright, so I've got this idea..." he explained it all to George who became even more serious as Harry continued to talk about it, and by the end of it, he had a strange glint in his eye, as if he was about to play a particularly nasty prank on someone he didn't like.
"We ough to sober the fuck up if we're about to become serious, mate," he finally commented. He was right, Harry knew, and nodded along, focusing his attention back to riot going on.
"Yup."
"Another beer?" George asked, noticing his empty can.
"Sure."
(...)
By the end of the day, angry folk came to their senses, and Aurors were able to dispel the crowd in a quiet manner, but still, a whole lot of them went home poor and rather unhappy.
Once alone, the ministry officials created some sort of camp for themselves, and various specialists started to apparate in so there could be seen a bunch of teams of obliviators, ward-breakers, and even one Magical Catastrophe squad.
The goblins didn't take kindly to the whole ordeal, and watched them proceeding with narrowed eyes and ready weapons, creating quite an impressive troop. Anyone with a muggle background would be highly reminded of Roman-style war structures and forms. Most of all, the group looked rather dangerous.
One particularly optimistic (or stupid) ward breaker tried to approach the massive gates of Gringotts, in order to make a closer inspection of wards surrounding the giant building, but the poor chap was quickly struck down with an impressively precise arrow to the knee, and Aurors rushed to help him retreat.
In retaliation, one of the Aurors tried to surprise goblins and conjured a wide, concentrated pillar of angry, green flames that greedily rushed towards the troop, licking their shields and armors, but to no avail. Once exhausted, that Auror retreated, his head bowed in a defeat, and goblins formed even tighter columns.
They tried a few more spells, probing the defenses of the ancient time around the bank, and observing the effect they made when colliding with goblin-made armor. Goblins shot a few more warning arrows, obviously not wanting to start an open battle just yet, and even used an impressive bit of goblin magic that shook the ground rather viciously, but it seemed to be just an intimidation tool.
The conclusion was grave to the wizards; all those myths about Gringotts being impenetrable were true to at least some extent, and at the end they had to admit their defeat. For a day, at least.
All in all, it was rather anti-climatic scenario, but nonetheless, it would be remembered in the history of magic as the beginning of yet another goblin rebellion.
Neither side noticed a pale shade of professor Binns nearby, dutifully taking notes and preparing yet another exquisite lesson for the future students.
AN: To begin with, you may want to ignore the last sentence of the chapter, but I couldn't resist writing it :). On the more serious tone, the pace is still slow, with more world-building and preparing the scene for what is about to come and is likely to stay that way, but I'll do my best to add more dialogue, action and so after I say everything I think is needed to be said. I think it will take some time for me to write the next chapter because I'll have a mixed gathering in it, and stuff like that takes time. It kinda is a spoiler, but it was the obvious next step; to share his plans with a crew.