Apparating to the Ministry Atrium, Harry made his way to the Department of Magical Finance, going straight through the doors till he reached the office of the Registrar, New Businesses.
In the past few days, Harry had visited this office often, to rush through the paperwork for the formation of Althric. He really did hope that this would be the last.
Speaking of which… he spotted Talbot waving him over to one of the cubicles.
Going over, Harry shook hand with the solicitor and the official whose cubicle it was, who Harry knew to be Raphael Urquhart, the younger brother of Sir Telemakus Urquhart, and the uncle of the Slytherin a year above Harry. Wondering if the man had been paid yet, Harry glanced at Talbot.
Meeting his eyes, the man gave a tiny nod.
Good. This would be simple then.
Sure enough, the man turned his attention to Harry, not even glancing at the file he was supposed to read through properly to ensure that they weren't trying to cheat the Ministry.
Taking out his quill, he asked "So, Lord Wilmington, who are the lucky people that are going to own this thing?"
This was another break from regulations. According to Ministry rules, all of the owners should have been present in this meeting. Indeed, it had cost nearly five thousand galleons to get this particular concession.
"Make it twenty percent apiece for the Potter, Slytherin and Gryffindor estates; and ten percent each for Sharr, Peverell and Black." Harry answered.
This would allow Harry to maintain control of the company in his own name, while the pureblood names meant that any official would think twice before going against the company. Not to mention that it would allow Harry to make unhindered use of the patents held by the families which he hadn't claimed publicly. Out of the remaining ten percent, the ministry owned four percent by law, while six percent would be going at the open market.
If Urquhart found anything strange, he didn't mention it. Soon, he put the names on the official records, stamped them, and that was it.
Another thing that Harry intended to secure sooner or later on this front was an executive order classifying the records of Althric Inc. as Above Top Secret. There wasn't a shred of proof of any wrongdoing in them, but it was just common sense.
His work here done, he left the Department, entering the lift and pressing the button to level one.
Thankfully, no one stopped the lift in between, and within minutes he was striding down the corridor.
Office of the Minister for Magic Two minutes later
"Minister Fudge!" called a voice from outside the office. "You have a visitor outside."
"I'm very busy right now, can't it wait?" asked Fudge.
"It's Harry Potter, Minister," said Fudge's aide from outside of the office and Fudge brightened up immediately at this news.
"Send him in immediately," said Fudge in a bright tone of voice, knowing it would be good publicity for it to be known that he was talking to the Boy-Who-Lived.
Harry Potter was the Darling of the Magical world, and Fudge wanted to capitalize on the positive publicity. He was up for another term within the year and this would give him a nudge in the right direction.
The door opened and Harry walked in, moving towards the Minister.
Fudge practically leapt from his chair towards the young man. Grabbing his hand, he shook it vigorously while ushering the boy to a comfortable looking chair. "Ah, Harry good to see you." He said as he settled down into his chair. "Tell me, have you been well? It's been too long since I've seen you, ever since that awful mess with Black""I have Minister, I apologize for taking up a few minutes of your time but there are some things that I want to talk about," Harry said, fixing his face into a mask of a naïve fourteen year old.
"Of course, of course, you're welcome anytime Harry!
So, what brings you to the Ministry of Magic?"
"Minister, I just recently come into the knowledge that I have certain responsibilities as the head of three Noble families," answered Harry. "It came as a shock, what with me having been raised in a Muggle home…"
That sent the Minister's mind reeling. Idiot though he was, Fudge was nothing if not a consummate politician. The Lord of three families, and at fourteen! The most influential teenager in the country had come to him, Fudge, for help; not Malfoy or Dumbledore. Opportunities like this almost never came.
"Yes, yes, that was rather unfortunate." Fudge said in an imitation of a sympathetic voice so pathetic that Harry barely suppressed the urge to laugh. "Not that it was something that I had anything to do with, but I wish there had been an alternative. But as I know it, what with Black being thrown in Azkaban, there sadly was not." He paused a moment for effect.
"Anyway, back to why you are here, Harry."
"Well as I mentioned," the boy replied earnestly. "I found out that being the last surviving member of three Noble families, I was the Lord, so I do have certain responsibilities. The problem is that I know so little about the Ministry, people might take advantage of me."
Interjecting his speech with well-crafted pauses, Harry continued sounding, just like Tom before him, as an eager, innocent schoolboy. "But, Minister, I feel I can trust you. You seem to be a nice person. You did help me get out of trouble after that accident before my third year."
And just as Tom Riddle's teachers were taken by his earnest attitude, the Minister of Magic fell for Harry's act. Fudge nodded, barely suppressing a slight smirk. He had a feeling then that helping Harry was going to pay off and he was proven right. If he could give the boy some guidance, it would mean a very powerful and influential associate.
The things he could do with the power of three families backing him…
"What exactly do you want, Harry?" asked Fudge
"Well, I wanted to ask if I could have some time to learn my way around the Ministry, to see how everything works, learn who and what I'm going to be dealing with, things like that "Harry said in an uncertain tone of voice that would have made Salazar proud.
"I'm certain that could be easily arranged," Fudge said with a kind smile.
"Once arrangements are made, I'll contact you discreetly, I suspect that you don't want certain people to know of this considering they might try to stop you."
"That would not be good, Minister," agreed Harry, somewhat astonished at how accurately he had predicted Fudge's actions. "You just don't know who you can trust anymore…"
"Right Harry, but you know you can trust me," Fudge said.
"I know I can Minister, your reign as Minister of Magic has been nothing but good, "Harry said. "You've done such a good job. I think the Ministry would fall into a wreck without you."
"Thanks for the vote of confidence, Harry," Fudge said, with complete sincerity.
Hm… it did seem that the few talents Fudge had didn't lend themselves to sarcasm.
The last line had been a deliberate test from Harry, aimed to see just how much flattery he could get away with. Thankfully, it seemed that the old formula would work well enough. Flatter till you think you're doing it too much, and then double it.
It was far too soon for any exchange of money, of course. That would come later.
Harry left just as soon as he'd come, his destination this time being the Department of Magical Games and Sports.
He reached in a few minutes time. Going straight into Bagman's office, he stopped at the secretary's desk. Doing a tiny scan on her mind to learn her name, he said "Hello, Melissa. Could you please tell Mr Bagman that Harry Potter is here to see him?"
During the last several days, Harry had spent a long time thinking just how to go about asking for broadcasting rights for Quidditch from a government that didn't have a concept of broadcasting. He'd eventually decided upon simply explaining the situation along with a nice bribe. The problem had been that only the Director for Magical Games and Sports or the Minister had the power to issue the authority for 'unprecedented' activities, and Harry had wanted to avoid going to them before he had time to consolidate his power in the Ministry.
Still, if it had to be done then it had to be done.
Coming back to the present, Harry observed the girl try to hide the surprise at him knowing her name. Failing miserably, she said in the end "Y-Yes of course, Mister- I mean Lord Wilmington" she amended, glancing at his ring.
Harry watched her leave. He had to admit, as he gazed at her rather firm and shapely behind. The girl was rather attractive, with sun-kissed blonde hair, large expressive hazel eyes, and all the curves in the right places. He heard her tell the man about him, and the Bagman's assent. Returning, she said "The Director will see you, Lord Wilmington."
Going in, Harry saw Ludo Bagman sitting behind his desk. He had the look of a well-built man who had become accustomed to a life of comfort. The robes of his office were stretched tight across a belly he'd surely gotten after the current job. With his Rosy complexion and blue eyes, Harry thought he was looking at an overgrown schoolboy.
Rising to shake his hand, the man said "Well, nice seeing you at the Ministry, Harry. So, what can I do for you?"
Explaining about the broadcast system, Harry finished "So, I need the Ministry's official permission to display the Final all over England. I am, of course, willing to pay any fees within reason."
To say that Bagman was interested would be an understatement. He'd heard about something like this from a few squibs he'd been in contact with, but the sheer scale of what Harry was proposing amazed him.
"And you say you can get this done in time to show the finals?" he asked.
"Well, yes, I can. But only with the support of the Ministry."
Harry supplemented his words with a minor compulsion. That and a large sack containing a thousand shiny Galleons later, he was looking at a letter of authority duly signed and carrying the seal of the Director.
"Well then Harry, there you have it. Is there anything else I can do for you?" Bagman asked.
"Yes, I need a few tickets to the finals."
"Say no more, Harry. I'm going to get you the best seats there are, the top box itself. Where the Minister and the other top people sit, you know?" said the former Beater.
"I didn't expect anything less from a man as capable as you, Director. Meanwhile, I'm organizing a public telecast of the semi-finals Tomorrow night at Diagon Alley. You know, for promotion of the idea. You're invited, of course"
"That's a very good idea, Harry. I'll be there." Bagman replied.
"Well, then, see you, Director." Harry said as he rose to leave.
Soon, he was back at level one, this time going to the Office of the Wizengamot Administrative Service.
Going in, he walked up to the front desk.
"Name?" the clerk on duty asked, without looking up from his newspaper.
"Harry Potter"
That got his attention.
Looking up, his eyes flickered to the scar, before he asked "Purpose of the visit?"
"Here to claim my seats on the Wizengamot."
"You are, of course, aware that it will require proof?" the clerk asked.
"Will this suffice? Harry asked sarcastically, flashing the Potter ring.
"Of course, Lord Wilmington. Right this way." The man said, clearly embarrassed, showing Harry to a room.
Entering it, Harry saw that it was a ritual room of some sort.
"Well, get on with it. Tell me, what do I have to do?" Harry asked.
"You state your full name with the titles, and state your claim. The magic of the room confirms whether you are who you say you are. If yes, you're confirmed and can simply sign the swearing in documents and turn up to the next meeting to vote. If not, then it's a one way trip to the death chamber in the Department of Mysteries."
"Oh, all right. Here goes." Harry said, taking a deep breath.
"I am Hadrian James Potter. I am The Thirty-Fifth Earl of Wilmington, the Five thousand Six hundred and ninety third Lord of the Bloodline of the Vessel Makers, and the Forty-sixth Warden of the Northern Islands. I ask that I am recognized as the rightful voter for the house of Potter, with all the rights, privileges, and responsibilities entailed."
He soon felt what he recognized as the power of the room examining him. It was drawn to the ring, and through the connection through it. Within a few moments, it withdrew, apparently satisfied. Looking down, Harry saw that the crest of the house of Potter had appeared on the left breast of his robes.
"Well, that's done then. Come with me, Lord Wilmington, there are a few papers you need to sign." The clerk said, motioning towards the door.
"Wait, I'm not done yet. Harry said.
Taking another deep breath, he continued "I am also the Twenty-eighth Duke of Gryphonsworth, the Thirty-fourth Duke of Parsellsia, the Six thousand nine hundred and fourth Lord of the Bloodline of the Lion tamers, the Six thousand seven hundred and twenty-sixth Lord of the bloodline of the Serpent Masters, the Thirty-second Warden of the Eastern Plains, and the Thirty-first Warden of the Southern Mountains. I ask to be recognized as the rightful voter for the houses of Gryffindor and Slytherin."
Again, the magic delved into him through the ring, scanning and evaluating his link to the two houses. Again, it withdrew in a few moments, apparently satisfied. This time, he felt it as the crests of the families faded into being at the front of his robes.
Looking around, he saw the clerk gaping at him. Harry suppressed a sigh. He supposed it was unavoidable, as he'd essentially just become a voting faction by himself.
To understand this, one would have to be extremely familiar with magical history.
When the families of Britain united to form the Wizengamot, the first consideration was; who was to get how many seats?
Some said that regardless of involvement, every family deserved one seat, no more, no less.
Of course, that was the first proposal to be shot down. But the question remained. The Ancient and Noble houses, along with the Eldritch Houses, wanted veto powers over all laws and matters of judiciary. The lesser houses were, of course, terrified of them having such rights.
Eventually, a compromise was reached. The Wizengamot would be three hundred strong. Two hundred of the seats would be inherited by the families, while a hundred would be for the Warlocks of the round table (which was the proper term for magical knights). As there were only eleven Warlock sat the time, they would have the right to decided how the rest would be appointed.
Meanwhile, within the Wizengamot, the Ancient and Noble Houses would get six votes apiece, while the Eldritch Houses would get nine. The lesser houses would have a vote apiece.
Of course, the votes of any vassal families would be for the Lord to command. Apart from this, it was decided that the Ancient and Noble Houses, along with the Eldritch Houses, would form an inner council, a pseudo Wizengamot within the Wizengamot.
This council would have the power to ratify or veto any law by virtue of a simple majority, as long as it didn't change the constitution. Even that could be done, but for that, a unanimous vote would be required. As there were fifteen families, it was named simply the council of fifteen.
What Harry had just done was to take twenty-four votes out of three hundred under his command, not to mention what would come with his vassals. Then there were the three votes he had on the council of fifteen.
From a clueless boy as he'd been just a couple months ago, he'd become a major mover and shaker in the magical world.
He would be visiting this office again under his other identities later that day, by which time he expected this news to be spread throughout the whole of the Ministry.
Just as he wanted it to
His next stop was the Prophet Offices in Goldia Alley. Going to the advertising section, he paid for a full front page advertisement for the dual events of the public telecast, and the grand opening of the Althric Artificers' Diagon Alley showroom. This took him half an hour, after which he was standing in the atrium of 15, Goldia Alley, the new Headquarters of Althric Inc., looking at the newly redecorated building.
Seeing the sheer number of unoccupied offices, Harry suppressed the urge to sigh.
One problem that Harry had been unable to solve quickly enough for his taste was that of manpower. He had vassals, golems and, if all else failed, simply magic to maintain and harvest his resources. He could secure contracts for supply on his own, and then use specially trained house elves to fulfil them. What he couldn't do fast enough was to hire the people needed for the day to day running of the company. That was something he would have to do the old fashioned way of interviewing and selecting recruits, or poaching them from others.
That, by itself, wouldn't even have been a problem. The problem was the oaths that Harry needed his employees to swear. They weren't oaths of vassalage or anything like that, but the consequences they laid down for anyone releasing information were positively draconian. Harry knew and understood this, but it was a necessary evil as he had no intention of being encumbered by the betrayals that always accompanied the more humane measures.
Not for the first time, Harry wished he could simply use the mark to make people loyal to him. It would be so simple, just stun someone, and mark them in secret. Then spread this same again and again, until the numbers are high enough to get all the people he needed. But the problem was that it would never work.
Despite what Dumbledore and his ilk spouted, there was a lot of difference between wizards and Muggles. Without even knowing it, wizards were immune to a great amount of the dangers plaguing the average Muggle.
To understand this, one needed a thorough grasp of magical biology. What happened was that first of all, every person in the world had a magical core. This included even the animals. Just like everyone had a soul, and a body.
What made the difference between a magical and a Muggle was the presence or absence of connections between the three elements. A person whose soul and body was connected to their magical core was magical, others were not. This was so, as when the three things were connected, the magic was free to channel itself across the whole being of the person. Its touch to the soul was what gave it the power to produce more magic and its connection to the body was vital for the creation of the channels through which it flowed.
A Muggle was born with a core, but that core could neither grow nor be used.
Coming back to the topic of immunity, this meant that when magic coursed through a person's body, it sought to protect the body, and by extension, itself. And a person's magic was never greater than in their own body.
For example, if a Muggle were to inhale powdered glass, it would mean a very painful and bloody death. A magical wouldn't even notice it, provided they were strong enough. Their magic would simply vanish away the glass.
This actually applied along the lines of the states of matter. Solids were what taxed magic most heavily, followed by liquids and then gases. That was why, while bullets and bombs were usually just as damaging to them as they were on Muggles, Muggle poisons failed to work on wizards, as did their diseases. For a mage, phosgene and mustard gas were just unpleasant smells. The most important thing was that this protection also lent itself to the mind.
While the Imperius curse was one of the most difficult spells to cast on wizards, it could be maintained with very little effort on a Muggle. The same went for Obliviations and the mark.
A person's magic would fight endlessly against the enchantments, were Harry to try it on a magical. That was not to say that it couldn't be done. It could, just like the Imperius and Obliviation spells, be used. But it required one to bend not just the wizards' minds, but also their magic to his/her will. To do so by brute force meant guaranteed insanity for the target, so the process had to be slow, moving just deep enough at just the right time.
This was why the Dark Mark could never be taken while under the Imperius, or any other form of mind control. A person had to be willing and able to do it.
Speaking of Dark Marks, Harry went back into the alley, before Apparating. He had something he needed to do.
The same time Hogwarts
Severus Snape was angry. Dumbledore had just summoned him to his office, saying something about the Potter brat. Stopping in front of the gargoyle guarding the entrance to the headmaster's chambers, he barked the password at the statue, swept up the stairs, and banged open the door. "Well, what do you want?" He snarled out.
"I do wish, my boy, that you would learn better manners." Dumbledore replied sedately, the infernal twinkling of his eye at full blast. "Anyway, I have called you here to tell you that Harry is not at his relatives'."
Snape's face twisted into his customary sneer "What, you mean that the brat ran away again?"
"No, I mean that he never made it there. He disappeared from the platform nine and three quarters."
"So what? You want me to go and look for him?" Snape asked. "Because if you are, then you have another-"
"No. while I kept this quiet for the last month and half, I've been making discreet inquiries. Imagine my surprise when I found out that a week and a half ago, he sat for his OWLs and NEWTs for the majority of his subjects." Dumbledore said, cutting him off.
Snape couldn't believe his ears. He'd always known that the boy was a pampered little pathetic moron, but could even the son of James Potter be this stupid? "Well, I assume he failed miserably?"
"Actually, he has obtained an Outstanding in every exam he sat for. But that is not the point. The interesting thing is that the candidate sitting for the exams was not 'Mr Potter', but rather, 'Lord Wilmington'."
The blood drained from Snape's face. Now, he was a veteran Death Eater. He had brewed the potions that had caused, directly or indirectly, thousands of deaths in the last war. He had also enjoyed attacking civilians' families while they went about their daily routines, while wearing a white mask. Upon hearing that the object of his wet dreams since he was a boy of twelve was in danger, he'd tried to save her by becoming (in his opinion), a self-sacrificing hero, while attempting to arrange for his way to her to be cleared at the same time.
But whatever else he may have pretended to be, his defining trait in life was that he was a coward, born and bred. To hear that the helpless Muggle-bred lad he'd enjoyed humiliating was now the Lord of an Ancient and Noble family was to him like a thunderbolt out of a clear sky.
"But you said that could never happen" he whined to Dumbledore.
"And that is why you are here, my boy. I need you to visit your friend Lucius and ask him about any way this could have happened. I have tried finding out myself, but unfortunately I don't know that many Lords of Ancient and Noble families."
"What about all those portraits?" Snape asked, gesturing around the room.
"None of them are Potters, I'm afraid. I removed all the Potter headmasters as I feared one of them could try to contact him. And as you know, there are differences in every family's succession rules. While I doubt Mr Malfoy knows the Potter Family Charter, he can make a far better effort to find out than me." The Headmaster answered.
He wasn't lying, as Dumbledore researching succession rules for the Ancient and Noble families would be translated by the traditionalists as preparation for yet another law abolishing the Lordships.
"Very well," Snape said, regaining his composure. "I'll go tomorrow."
When one set about destroying an enemy's powerbase, the surest way to do it was to take it for themselves. Harry had thought on this long and hard in the chamber.
Voldemort, while quite certifiably insane, had not been completely stupid. At least, not at the time before he created his Horcruxes. The Dark Mark was a piece of magic he had worked at for a long time, and it was his masterpiece. Based on an ancient roman slave brand, the mark incorporated hundreds of separate spells, all binding the bearer to Voldemort in their own ways.
The simplest were the pain spells. The spells would cause the bearer a pain like they were burning whenever they thought about disobeying Voldemort (or whenever Voldemort felt like it).
Apart from that, there were spells that would allow the bearer to be guided to Voldemort whenever he called them. Others that would provide instant and secure communication, the list went on.
One of the most important sets was the one of the concealment spells. It was also the only set that could be controlled by the bearer. Upon activation, the spells made the Dark Mark completely invisible. And it wasn't just from sight. No magic could sense it, and no wards could detect it with those spells active. Unless, of course, you knew the exact spells used and the innermost details of the layout of the spell matrix.
Harry had spent several hours in the chamber working out a spell to remove the Dark Mark. He had to, as he couldn't just take it over, not with the control runes and spells being embedded inside Voldemort's very soul. It had taken considerable experimentation, requiring him to cast and unravel everything again and again, but he had done it.
The tricky part was to use it. Thing was, he couldn't simply go around to the various escaped Death Eaters, telling them "I'm Voldemort, and I've just come back, but I don't want to restart what we were doing, and by the way, I'm removing your Dark Marks … Y'know, the ones I said could never be removed and would be the greatest part of your service to me?"
They weren't that stupid (or if they were, then did he really want them?).
No, it would have to wait, unfortunately. What he was going to do right now, was to use the other things he'd crafted in regards to the Dark Mark. Throughout the last war, the Department of Mysteries had tried to penetrate the concealment spells on the mark, trying to make detectors for it and design wards capable of stopping anyone bearing it. They'd failed, in part due to the sabotage Rookwood had done, and mainly because Tom was just that brilliant. But what they hadn't had, but Harry did, was in depth knowledge of the mark, the exact spells used, how they meshed with each other, the lot.
In one of the factories Harry had started on the Sharr estate, wardstones went in from one end, completely blank, and they left the other end carrying an extremely specific warding scheme, designed to repel anything and everyone bearing a Dark Mark. It extended, of course, to Voldemort himself, but that was rather easier. Along with the Dark Mark repelling wards, there was an array of other articles, but these were the primary target.
As soon as Harry deemed his warding knowledge to be appropriate, he would be visiting every single building he owned, getting these wards in place.
Of course, speaking of factories, Harry's latest efforts in his endeavours had been towards a topic that was a major concern.
Namely, self-sufficiency
Just about everything Harry currently owned was dependant on his own micro-management of every single thing. Now, the day to day business and political issues would have to remain that way until he got some subordinates he could trust and rely on (something that was thankfully underway with the education levels of his vassals rising), but the other things could be changed.
He decided that instead of having isolated puppets in the Muggle world, it would be better to unite them, so that each may help the others. It was an idea that came from what Grindelwald had done in Germany when he was acting as Heinrich Himmler, and he decided to name the organization in honour of him.
So Harry's cabal of top dictators, thinkers, police officials and businessmen got a name.
It would be the Serpent Sworn, shortened to the SS.
It wasn't as simple as changing the name, of course. Thankfully, he had included spells in the mark that could change other parts of the enchantments. It was time to use them. The first thing he did was to restructure the control runes.
Earlier, they had been connected to him, enabling him to control them directly. What he did now was create a secondary chain of control, which would lead back to him again, although with a difference. This would allow him to retake control in any emergency, while the marks would operate through a layer of intermediaries that would continue working, even if he couldn't pay full attention to them. For this, he enchanted numerous stone tablets with the appropriate runes to both receive and transmit instructions. Then, he visited every place where he had any major marked servants, and bought pieces of land, using copious amounts of conjured money.
That done, he put both the buildings and the tablets under every protection he could think of, and buried the tablets under the properties, after linking them to the marks. The next step was to tie the controls of the tablets, straight to the central keystone buried under Casa De Sharr, which was connected to the family magic, with them in turn connected to his ring.
Getting an idea, he created yet another set of secondary controls, this time at the level after the Sharr keystone, and created a magical nexus to watch over them, which would answer to Slytherin's portrait.
This would allow Salazar to watch over the day to day workings of the organization, and allow Harry to at least partially solve the problem of his lack of trustworthy associates.
The greatest thing was that it would allow Harry to start more operations. Going back to Russia and Yugoslavia (which was finally truly complete, with the dissolution of Macedonia and Slovenia), he found several weapons dealers, and went to work with them.
What he did can best be explained with the example of Vladimir Bout.
Bout needed no introduction to anyone in the Western or Eastern Block Intelligence service. He was notorious as a former KGB major, who had later, using the limitless weapons pool of the old USSR, become one of the biggest black market arms dealers in the world.
Harry had earlier visited them to get the man's wealth, which was in the hundreds of millions. This time, he was interested in something else.
With a few spell and adjustments in the mark, he was done. Bout would now prepare, once every month, a consignment of his very best guns, rocket and grenade launchers, RPGs, mines, etched would then place it in one of his numerous warehouses, and then forget all about it.
This, after he did it to a full dozen dealers, would allow Harry to setup a continuous supply of top notch Muggle weapons. With Cray's knowledge on making magic and technology work together floating in his head, he already had golems working on a factory that would augment these weapons with magic so far beyond what anyone considered capable that it wasn't even funny.
Another priority was to acquire not just weapons, but weapon plans that would allow him to set up his own factories. Being as things were, all it took was a visit to a few government labs, and he already had started work on the nexus that he would need.
Naturally, with weapons secured, the next objective was the ability to use them. Harry made yet another trip around the globe, assimilating memories from the trained soldiers of every government. He visited the best soldiers of the best Special Forces units in the world and copied, analysed and assimilated all their years of training and experience.
It didn't make Harry an immediate expert, but it gave him somewhere to begin.
Apart from them, Harry also visited the world's best martial arts specialists, creating for himself a style that would have the strengths of every form he could get his hands on, with the weaknesses of none.
Once again, it would take years of training (months with magic) before he was ready to use them at their full power, but it was an excellent start.
Coming back to the matter of self-sufficiency, Harry went back and retrieved the fully functioning simulacrums of both Samuel Phoenix and Jason Andrews (the identity he had used when creating the Serpent Sworn), that he'd started the creation of the moment he'd chosen the identities. These he tied to the portraits of Charlus Potter and Orion Black respectively.
When he said 'simulacrum', he did not mean statues of snow animated by magic, but in fact fully functioning human bodies with the correct organs, nerves, and mannerisms of a regular human. The only thing they lacked was a magical core, as the ingredients needed for that were too expensive and rare for even Harry to use casually.
The growth chambers for such bodies were among the first factories he created, and the plans for it dated back to nearly three hundred and fifty thousand years ago, when the Sharrs had rediscovered cloning technology from the pre-Atlantean era.
Still, that wasn't all he did, the bank accounts were always secure, but something new he did was to put in the computers of every bank where he had an illegal account, a program that he called the scrambler. Once inserted, it would lay quiet in the computer, doing little more than spreading quietly throughout the system.
In a computer in the study of Potter Manor, there resided a list of bank account numbers, along with one of some specific codes, and some specific e-mail addresses. Whenever a transaction would occur in one of the accounts on the list, the computer would send the appropriate code to the appropriate bank via e-mail. As soon as it was received, the program would come alive.
The first thing it did was to delete without any trace, all details of the e-mail. Then, it identified the accounts, and started its work. Sometimes it outright deleted all records of the transaction, so that the money was simply there without any records of it arriving. This was only done for the accounts where the time for which the money resided could be measured in minutes. For these, the money moving out counted as another transaction, prompting a fresh code, and a fresh activation of the program, and this time it deleted any record of the money ever being there at all. For others, it simply doctored the records to show anything but the truth.
Another purpose the scrambler served was to keep an eye on anyone snooping about the account. For example, if an employee of the bank went any deeper into the account details than the front page, it would identify the terminal, and if an ID was used, then retrieve the records from the archives, before forwarding them to yet another e-mail address. If there were any, it hacked into the CCTV, taking the face of the employee, before sending it too, on the address.
All these were necessary precautions, should he become indisposed. After all, the flow of money, or the establishment of his influence, couldn't be allowed to stop.
The next weeks passed busily for Harry. The inauguration of the showroom went fantastically, Harry having invited Lord Axtros Montague(the chief of the Diagon Alley traders' guild) to cut the ribbon. As did the public launch of the PBS, there were already reports of the TVs flying off the shelves, as everyone who'd been unable to afford a ticket but still wanted to see the match wanted one.
There was so much to do, and so little time, that before he knew it, it was the day of the final and he was browsing through the storage vault below Gryffindor Palace, trying to choose which tent he should use. Knowing that the arrangement was in a Muggle field, he had decided to be at least somewhat discreet, so the seven storied golden coloured, floating tent was rejected, as was the one with a full pride of animated Griffins flying around it.
Eventually Harry came across a plain dark green tinted tent, which contained manor inside, complete with its own house elves. Ordering Caspar, the head of the Gryffindor house elves, to prepare it for use, Harry came back out of the vault, into his study.
There, he started going through the mail. One was from Ali Bashir, confirming their appointment set three days from then. Just in time, he thought as he read the next letter, this one the goblins, confirming that he now owned all outstanding debts owed by ministry officials a certain rank and above. Why it was just in time was because one of the officials, owing Harry to the tune of seven thousand galleons, was Charles Jenkins, the Chief registrar for Proscribed Charmable Objects. With that man under Harry's control, that left two people in Britain that could go against Althric Artificers. One was Arthur Weasley, and the other Bertrand Perkins, both members of the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts office.
Well, they would be dealt with soon enough.
Meanwhile, this, if exploited correctly, could ensure that Harry had his 'in' into the middle-eastern dictatorships. He'd left them alone earlier, mainly as they came under the aegis of the Persian Magical Empire, which was rather watchful of its Muggle counterparts. After all, Ali Bashir was not just a businessman who wanted to export carpets to Britain. He was also the nephew of Salim Bashir, the Prime Minister of the Empire of Magical Persia.
The final letter was from Terrence Willwood, acknowledging that he'd received the schematics of the final camera arrangements Harry had sent to him. Terrence was something of an enigma to Harry. One of the few well educated vassals of the Slytherins he'd been a photographer for The Prophet before Harry had drafted him into being the camera coordinator to cover the match for the Peverell Broadcasting Service. Harry made sure to plant the memories of the world's best professionals in his mind, and had supplemented that with weeks of training by liberal use of a time turner. By now, Terrance was an extremely familiar with what he needed to do.
They had scouted out the stadium several times, deciding the best places to arrange the cameras. They would be floating at the specified positions with respect to the teams, moving with the match.
During the match, he would be sitting in front of several screens, deciding which screen to broadcast at which time.
His mail done, Harry turned towards a blank stretch of the wall, removing the glamour charms to reveal six shrunken master frames. Activating the Sharr one and calling forth Darius, he opened a drawer and pulled out a magical globe.
"So, I thought we could go over the locations of the caches one last time." He said to Grindelwald.
He was talking about the numerous emergency supply depots that Grindelwald's SS had built all over conquered Europe in the Second World War.
Grindelwald, in his guise as Himmler, has been one of the first in Germany to work out that the war was lost. He had started preparing to save as many of Germany's best and brightest as he could all the way back in 1941, along with laying down the foundations for the Fourth Reich.
There were many operations that he had arranged for this purpose, but one of the most important had been the preservation of as much wealth and knowledge as possible. This had been done in many ways. One was the obvious method of stashing away hundreds of millions of both dollars and galleons in foreign bank accounts. There were over a hundred numbered accounts in Gringotts branches all over the world, holding over three hundred million galleons in liquid wealth, not to mention artefacts and knowledge worth much more. The Sharr accounts alone had over a hundred million credited to them. The same was the condition for the Muggle accounts scattered over Switzerland, Lichtenstein, the Caymans, and the Channel Islands.
That wasn't even the bulk of the money, as that lay in ultra-secret depots in the form of tons of gold, priceless artworks, jewels, and other treasures, taken from the bodies and homes of Jews before they were carted off to the concentration camps.
Harry had extracted the location of these depots from Darius, and he now needed to visit them and key the wards to himself, not to mention start liquidating the art and the jewels.
There weren't any weapon caches, as the weapons were the one thing that had been in extreme demand during the war.
Once the world cup was over, Harry would visit the caches, and move the wealth to either his own numerous properties on the continent, or to the Gringotts vaults. He's already made arrangements to sell the artwork through the Phoenix Auctioneers (which he had opened a week ago but the world believed to be half a decade old).
It took Harry and Darius nearly two hours to make sure that they had the exact location of every one of the caches clear in their minds, and then it was time to go to the campsite.
Seven hours later
Harry thought about who he could expect to see in the top box, as he climbed the stairs. Out of the forty seats, eighteen were reserved for the ministry, from what he believed. Fudge and Bagman were a certainty, as were their counterparts from Ireland and Bulgaria. Apart from that, there would be their guests, other powerful ministry officials, and the ones that would have managed to buy the few tickets available for sale.
Harry wondered yet again whether or not he should be at the relay station. After all, this was a major time for Althric, and he should be there. But he dismissed it. He'd left Darius in control of the magic, and he did need to make a few Bulgarian connections. There would hardly be a better opportunity.
Reaching the top, Harry saw that the box was empty, except for a house elf sitting in the corner with an empty seat next to it. Except…. Was it?
He didn't intend to let anyone learn about this anytime soon, but one of the numerous types of magic he'd mastered in the chamber was the Animagus transformation. He still remembered the way he'd learned it.
Harry was sitting in the middle of the chamber, meditating. He'd finished the needed spells, and just minutes ago, he had drunk the Animagus revealing potion. From what Salazar had told him, the way people currently learned the Animagus transformation, by transforming themselves part-by-part and then learning the feel of it, they all but killed the animal, simply replacing it with their own minds. This method worked decently enough, in that it allowed anyone and everyone to become one with enough practice. However, two things that were completely impossible with it were a magical form, or multiple forms. It had gotten so bad, that everyone today believed that both were impossible.
The truth was quite the opposite. There had been a time when very few people could become Animagi, but every single one of them had one or more magical forms. It was obvious, from what Harry remembered Salazar telling him.
"You are a wizard, a magical creature. Once you know that, then why should it be impossible to become another magical creature? In fact, what should be impossible is to lose your core to become a non-magical animal. No, it is just the usual spiel spouted by those weaklings to appease the Mudbloods when they find themselves unable to take magical forms"
Harry had to bow to the logic in the words. Soon enough, his meditation took him to his mind, where the power of the potion, combined with the spells, should allow his form (or forms) to emerge from the combination of his blood, his soul, and his magic. As he went deeper and deeper into his mind, he felt himself change. The power of the spells, shaping him into the form that was a representation of his soul.
In moments, he felt his spine elongating, his ribs multiplying in number. His teeth turned into fangs dripping with the venom from the glands forming in his throat. As he turned into a basilisk, he wondered what it meant for him that his soul was that of a Basilisk.
And within moments, as soon as he'd turned, he was back to human.
"So, how did it feel?" Salazar asked.
"Strange". Harry replied. "I thought that it would be really difficult to take control from the animal's instincts. Instead, I felt fully in control."
"Really? No pride, no urge for acromantula flesh?" Salazar asked with a wary look on his face.
"No." Harry confirmed.
"Damn. I was hoping we could avoid this." He said, with apparent annoyance. "Don't worry. I know what the problem is. It happens when a mind mage does the transformation. The instincts don't form immediately."
"What? What'd you mean?" Harry asked.
Salazar explained "Listen. When you transform, it happens with the help of all three elements of you. The first is your soul, which provides the form, next is your blood, which provides the material, and lastly your magic, which gives the energy." The body and powers of the form come from the blood and the magic respectively, but the mind has to come from the soul. The mind has to take shape from the freely flowing emotions and feelings. These are normally provided by the spells you use, but even they can only excite the emotions if they can."
Harry's eyes widened "But with me being an Occlumens….."
"Exactly, but don't worry, they'll come sooner or later, and you can use the powers anyway."
Flashback end
Whenever the mental aspects of being a Basilisk came, it was a different matter. But what concerned him right now was that being a Basilisk, he had the ability to use heat vision in addition to his magical sensing, and both were currently screaming at him that the seat was not at all empty.
Still, whoever it was, he could deal with them later. Right now the priority was to get a good seat.
In a few minutes, Harry was settled, and waiting for the others to come, till he heard a very unwelcome voice.
"Harry?" the voice of Hermione Granger came.
Great, that was just what he needed. The Great Weasley Brood was here.
"Yes, Granger, is there anything you want?"
Colouring up, Hermione started shrieking. "What are you doing here? Professor Dumbledore-"
"I wasn't aware that it was any of your business where I went, Granger," Harry replied smoothly, "Or Dumbledore's, for that matter."
At this, Ron deigned to open his mouth. "Don't talk to Hermione like that, Potter!"
Harry suppressed the urge to sigh. He really, really wasn't in the mood for this. "Do curb the screaming, Weasley. We're in polite company here. Now, either you quiet down, or scamper off. I have things to do, and you test my patience." Harry said, before he stood up and moved to the edge of the box.
Taking out a box the size of a matchbox from his pocket, he set it on the railing, before pointing his wand at it.
Immediately, the box took off, floating a few feet ahead. With another flick, it expanded to its true size, which was as big as an average school trunk. Out floated fifty professional grade video cameras, which zoomed to their predetermined positions with yet another flick of Harry's wand.
Out of them, about half would be more or less stationary, covering the whole stadium from the optimum angles. Out of the rest, around twenty would move with the team and the referee, keeping track of everyone at all times from multiple angles. The rest would cover the top box, the mascots, etc.
Coming back, Harry ignored whatever the Weasleys tried to scream at him, moving to the other end of the box. Just in time, as he saw Fudge and Oblanski, the Bulgarian minister come into the box.
He greeted them, and the others that came after them, face a seamless mask of politeness. The Weasleys may have spoiled his mood, but this was business.
The last guests to come were, unsurprisingly, the Malfoys. Seeing them, especially the woman Harry knew to be Draco's mother, Harry decided to have some fun. Rising from his seat, he walked briskly towards them.
"Hello Draco, long time no see, how are you?"
"Potter?" the boy sputtered, totally surprised.
Ignoring him, Harry gave a slight bow to the woman. "May I have the honour of knowing your name, Madam?"
"Narcissa, Lord Wilmington. Narcissa Malfoy."
Turning back to Draco, Harry said "Oh, Draco, you never told me you had such a lovely sister!"
At this, Lucius joined his son in the sputtering. Which was actually rather odd, as Harry knew him to be much smoother. Showed what could happen if one put their guard down, Harry supposed.
Narcissa gave a small smile. "Actually, Draco is my son, Lord Wilmington."
"Oh, my apologies then," Harry said, not sounding apologetic at all. "And do call me Harry, Lady Malfoy. We are cousins, after all."
It went like this throughout the match, Harry lightly flirting with the woman, while exchanging names with several people.
The match ended with a win for Ireland while Krum caught the snitch (almost the exact opposite of what Bagman had bet on, meaning that he was now Harry's; bought and paid for).
Harry descended the stairs two at a time, wanting to get to headquarters and see how things went with the telecast. He also wanted to give the final closing statement himself, before the highlights began.
As he went, he gave a final mental command to the cameras to start moving towardsthe campsites, to cover the crowds leaving and the Irish celebration party.
Reaching the ground, he turned and Disapparated.
A.N:
Whoa, was that tough to write.
As always, reviews/PMs are recommended for any clarifications, suggestions or criticism.
See ya
blackshadow111