Title: Harry Potter, The Magnate
Chapter 1
Lost Boy
Sunday July 31, 1988, 12:00 a.m.
The newly eight-year-old Harry Potter answered the phone on the third ring. "Hello", he said, "Dursley residence."
"Hello, my name is Michael Cartwright. Is Mr. Vernon Dursley available?" a strong male voice said.
"One minute please" Harry said, laid down the phone and stepped into the parlor. "Phone for you Uncle Vernon."
"Who could be interrupting my Sunday" Vernon groused as he stood to move to the telephone. Vernon stepped into the hall and picked up the phone. "Hello", he said having place the receiver to his ear.
"Mr. Dursley, my name is Michael Cartwright. I'm a senior account manager with the Bank of London. It's important that I speak with you today if you can make the time."
"Mr. Cartwright, it's Sunday. I don't usually meet with people on Sundays," Vernon complained.
"I understand, however, it's important that I speak with you today in person. I could be at your door in 10 minutes if you can make the time for me. We'd also like to speak with your wife, Petunia, if she's available." Mr. Cartwright said. "This should be a profitable conversation for both of you."
"Profitable?" Vernon queried and then continued without waiting for an answer. "Very well. My wife and I will meet with you. I'll see you in a few minutes."
"I have several colleagues with me and we'll be at your door in 9 minutes. Thank you." Mr. Cartwright hung up the phone.
Vernon stepped down the hallway into the kitchen. "Petunia…".
Sunday July 31, 1988, 12:10 p.m.
Vernon had just returned to his well broken in chair to continue reading his paper. As he sat, he thought, 'These types are never on time'. He heard three firm knocks on his front door almost immediately upon picking up his paper. Surprised, he struggled to stand so he could answer the door. "Hello Mr. Dursley, I'm Michael Cartwright", Mr. Cartwright said when Vernon had opened the door. "This is Vedant Abda, in-house counsel for the Bank of London, and behind him are Ms. Bones and Mr. Shacklebolt, consulting investigators for the bank. Do you mind if we step in?" Both Cartwright and Abda were well dressed, clearly professional businessmen, while Bones and Shacklebolt were dressed in matching charcoal grey suits without ties and both wore mirrored sunglasses.
"Please do", Vernon said as he opened the door wider to allow them entry. "We can sit at our dining table to have our discussion" he said as he led them through the parlor into the dining room. Petunia Dursley was just setting the table with tea and biscuits, cups and saucers as they entered.
"The tea needs to steep a bit more," she said. They took their seats around the table except for Bones and Shacklebolt who remained several feet away from the table as if providing security.
Vernon opened the discussion with "What is this all about?"
"Well, let me tell you a little about what I do and that should lead us to why we're here. May I call you Vernon and Petunia?" Michael asked?
"That's fine, Mr. Cartwright," Petunia said.
"Mike and Ved" Cartwright said as he pointed first at himself and then at his lawyer. "I do work for the Bank of London; however, my whole time there has been spent running a team of analysts and investors who have been looking after the accounts of one family. This family is beyond wealthy with land holdings in over 20 countries, business holdings in more countries than that and a very broad stock portfolio with holdings largely focused on technology, including communications, computer hard and software and medical technologies including medical research and new drug development and they have stock in numerous petrochemical companies. Their main goal has been to fund various philanthropic organizations including educational funds, universities, and various art institutions here in the UK, in Europe and in North America. While they perhaps lead the world as being the wealthiest family existing, I'm certain that almost nobody has ever heard of them. If I've done my job correctly, and I have, their ownership is hidden behind so many layers of cutout companies that it would be indecipherable to almost everybody. Their holdings altogether are probably valued somewhere between 200 and 300 billion dollars U.S. As it happens, the owners of all this wealth up until 4 years ago were an elderly couple who lived in Kent. Both succumbed to a disease, some type of pox, in 1984. They had one son, who would have inherited everything if he hadn't himself along with his wife been killed in an unexplained attack at their home in late 1981. This younger couple was known to have had a son; however, we've not been able to locate him. We've expended considerable resources in trying to locate this child. We're certain that he hasn't left the UK but we haven't been able to find him. We do have reports that he survived the attack that took his parents' lives. Ved, please continue."
"Vernon, Petunia, in 3 months it will no longer matter that we can't find this child as he'll have been missing for 7 years and will be declared legally dead. It will not matter if he is later found alive as his holdings will have irreversibly changed hands. While we have broad control of all this family's holdings, each individual company or institution has a board with a vested interest in taking individual ownership. Essentially, this family's wealth will be torn asunder, never to return. This is where you come in. The boy has numerous distant relatives, second, third and fourth cousins, but only one close relative. An aunt who lives on Privet Drive in Surrey, England. That's you Petunia. If we can't find this boy, you'll take possession of his family's vast holdings sometime in November or December of this year. We're here to help you make that transition so we can preserve this family's wealth and legacy for the future"
Vernon and Petunia looked at each other in amazement at what they'd been told. "Well, about that" Petunia began, but was abruptly interrupted by the sound of bumping and pounding on the ceiling from the floor above. Bones and Shacklebolt looked at each other and quickly headed to the staircase and the second floor of the small house. Following the noise down the hallway to the right from the top of the stairs, they entered a small bedroom where they witnessed a rather stout lad with his back to his clothing cupboard clearly trying to keep the door closed. Every couple of seconds, whoever was in the cupboard tried to get out making the door bulge outward but couldn't displace the large boy keeping it closed.
Bones and Shacklebolt heard a muffled "You're the worst cousin ever" from inside the cupboard, after which, the stout boy laughed and shouted "Shut it, Harry. Mum and Dad are still busy downstairs." Immediately after this, the boy noticed he was no longer alone in his bedroom. The larger of the two consultants pointed his finger at the boy, cutting off his laughter, and beckoned him from his place at the cupboard, which prompted the door to fly open when next his cousin Harry kicked the door to achieve release. The door flew open, bounced off the wall and reclosed firmly. But it didn't reopen. After 10 seconds, Ms. Bones went to the door of the cupboard and knocked lightly. There was no answer, so after another 5 seconds she opened the door to find a young lad, about 8 years old, sitting of the floor of the cupboard with surprised eyes looking at the Senior Auror.
"Harry Potter I presume!" she said.