Chapter Twenty
I admit, I was half-expecting Dumbledore to appear out of thin air at a certain point, go all 'My dear Cornelius' and then start to talk to Harry.
It didn't happen.
That surprised me more than anything else.
Cornelius Fudge' office was large, with a wide desk and a few shelves, as well as scattered papers all around.
"Just tell him your guardians are muggles and since it was the wizard world they had no idea on how to act and left you to your own devises."
Harry was understandably nervous, even more so when he met Cornelius and the man shook his hand with a bright smile.
"Ah Mister Potter! It is a honor to meet you! I see you're preparing for Hogwarts then? Thank you Roderick, I'll take it from here," he added to the guard, who nodded and shook Harry Potter's hand one last time before leaving, all jittery and mumbling something about how 'he'd never wash his hands again'.
"Yes sir," Harry nodded meekly. "My guardians are muggles, and they..."
"Don't know how to interact with the wizard world, so they left me to my own devises." I said helpfully.
"Ah, of course!" Harry didn't even have to say the latter part. Cornelius was glad to help without even being told a reason for. "Well, Harry, can I call you Harry? Of course I can, well," he continued, "I'll give you a grand tour of Diagon Alley then! I'll warn the press and..."
"Stop him now," I said. "Tell him 'I'd like that, but not today sir. Maybe after I've got my school stuff without causing a commotion? Then I'd love to tour Diagon Alley with you."
"Uhm, sir," Harry said. "I'd really like that, but not today...I'd like to get my stuff for Hogwarts without too much ruckus..."
Cornelius grinned. "Ah, I see, then-"
"How about next week?" I said offhandedly.
"How about next week?" Harry parroted.
Cornelius blinked, surprised.
"Oh my, sure! Why not? I'll contact your guardians and-"
"Pass directly through me, Minister," I said calmly, and Harry repeated my words, "My guardians are Muggles, and they decided that I'm to take care of myself when it comes to Wizards."
"Oh well," Cornelius replied. "Surprisingly mature of you to take on such efforts, Mister Potter...well, there are laws about what a minor can and cannot do, and..."
"Minister, I'm Harry Potter," I said calmly. "Surely the laws can be bent a bit? I just want to access my vault and retrieve my money to buy my school supplies. I know I have the vault, but not the key...I'm not going to rob Gringotts, and all I need is a document proving my identity for the Goblins."
Fudge bit his lips.
"I can give an interview to the Daily Prophet claiming how much you helped me get acquainted with the magical world," I said, and Harry repeated.
That cinched the deal.
Slytherin, here we come.
"Oh well, why not! Some leeway every now and then can never harm anyone! So, next week?"
"Next week, say that and nod, Harry," I said, and Harry did. "Just, make sure it's not Rita Skeeter. I heard very bad things about her, and whenever she can get her hands on a scandal, she'll twist the words in whatever way she wants."
"Of course," Cornelius nodded. "I'll contact you by owl then, Mister Potter. I'll send a message to the office for Wizard Identification, and if you'd like, how about we take some tea with crumpets while we wait for them to process your document?"
"I'd like that, Minister," I said, and Harry replied with a soft voice my same words.
"Excellent!" Cornelius grinned.
"You know," I said, "Since I've heard about it, I've always wanted to be minister of magic. It's gotta be so cool to rule the wizard country, isn't it? You must be a very important person to do this job. Everyone has to obey you!" I took a small breath, "Say it as childishly as you can, Harry."
Harry winced, but dutifully obeyed.
There.
Cornelius was pudding.
"This, Harry, is how you manipulate and control people," I said offhandedly. "Well, not really, since I largely doubt something like this would fly if you weren't an eleven year old. If an eighteen year old had said this, it would have been a clear attempt at praise gone bad. But you're eleven. Everyone thinks you a bumbling, naive child. So your words? They ring true for him. Flattery doesn't always work, and is mostly crude. You need to elicit respect in those around you if you wish to rule them."
Harry appeared uncomfortable, and I sighed.
"I know, I know, you dislike the idea of 'ruling', but see it this way: if everything goes well...no more Dursley. Christmas? You'll get to buy your own gifts, with your money. Your birthday? You'll get your own birthday gifts. No more doing chores for the Dursley. No more eating scraps," I looked straight into his eyes. "And all you need? Is a bit of flattery, a bit of words, and a bit of brain. And by the end of it, you'll be free. Do you see? You're talking with the Minister of Magic, because you're Harry Potter. You are as famous as the Queen of England in the Wizard world, Harry! You have power," I continued, and then smiled. "Now it's time you learn how to wield it."
I chuckled.
"I played a Ventrue Vampire in Vampire: the Requiem, and my two favorite words? 'Trust me'. They always worked so well..." in backstabbing the others. Not my fault. They were the dumb ones. Who ever saw a Vampire have to outright go 'straight ahead' against the problem? No! You had 'years' to do a job. Why do it the very next night?
And then they wondered why the Narrator laughed sometimes.
Harry was uncomfortable, but I didn't bother with it.
What bothered me was that I hadn't actually heard a 'Ka-chink' yet, but it was understandable. It was only the first day, and Harry wasn't Naruto, or Shinji. He was surprisingly withdrawn.
And I had hardly started any 'personal' argument with him. I was simply guiding him, ordering him around, but I wasn't talking with him.
That could wait until I had him settled.
Then, maybe, we'd start getting to know each other better.
I suggested what to tell Harry as he had tea with the Minister, and as quick as we had arrived, to too did a bunch of official looking papers arrive on Cornelius' desk suddenly.
Harry had to sign with his name on a bunch of dotted lines, using a quill and an ink pot, but then, it was done.
He had a nice looking parchment that attested 'through the testimony of the Ministry of Magic' that he was 'Harry James Potter'.
Outside, the sky was still clear, and it was probably lunch time.
Thankfully, Gringotts was open twenty four hours a day.
"I'm tired," Harry mumbled.
"Just one last stretch. We've gone this far," I told him. "One last stretch, and you'll be free."
That spurred Harry.
And true to the Goblin's word, after he delivered the parchment to the goblin banker, the goblin banker worked for a few minutes and returned with a key.
"Do not lose this one," he said with a sneer. "The cost for the forging of a new key will be deducted from your vault's contents."
"Do not lose it," I said to Harry, who pocketed it.
"Now, I can't remember the rate of conversion, but get yourself at least a few galleons, sickles, and...what's the name of the silver coins again? Uhm..."
As Harry screamed along the 'mine cart' I pondered what the name of the silver coins was...until I slapped my hand against my face. "Stupid. Sickles are the silver ones. Knuts are the copper ones. Get some knuts, sickles and Galleons."
Harry's vault came equipped with a few pouches.
I didn't know why, but probably it was easier to just leave half a dozen of empty pouches in case you had to make a withdrawal and forgot your wallet at home?
"At least twenty galleons," I said. "We'll take the wand and get a room for the night. Then concerning getting you a godfather and a house...that will be tricky, but doable."
If a bit risky.
"Olivander's our next stop. Ask for a wand of holly and phoenix feather, the twin of the wand that gave you that scar. It's your wand."
Harry bristled, and pouted.
He was a child, and I suspected he was very close to throwing a tantrum, but he wasn't there yet.
Which was good, because we weren't finished.
"Hello," Garrick said as we stepped inside his office.
"Hi," Harry said. "I'd like a holly wand with...phoenix feather, sir."
"Now, now," Garrick said. "Are you sure? It's the wand that chooses the owner after all..."
"Yes sir," Harry nodded softly. "It should be the twin of the wand that gave me this," and he showed his scar.
"Oh my...Harry Potter," Harry looked sideways.
"Get used to it," I said flatly. "And once you get used to it, make it yours and weaponize it. That is one of the laws of Space Battle. If it exists, it can be weaponized. And anything weaponized can be used to destroy anything, provided sufficient velocity is applied."
Harry glared at me, and I looked back at him with a scoff. "Hop, hop. We don't have all day and I'm sure you're hungry anyway. Get the wand, and then off to grab some grub."
Garrick shrugged. "If you believe that is your wand...I just have the one you're speaking of...just a moment, Mister Potter."
When he returned, the wand predictably started to show off sparks.
"Surprising..." Garrick murmured. "How did you ever know this was your wand, Mister Potter?"
"I had a hunch," I said.
"I guessed," Harry replied.
"Interesting," Garrick said. "I suppose we can expect great things from you, Mister Potter. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did terrible things with the twin of this wand after all, but they were great nonetheless."
"Yeah, yeah," I rolled my eyes. "Of course. You have a wand and now it's time for lunch. Off we go!"
Tom's pub was called the 'Leaky Cauldron', but since it was also connected to muggle London, it was risky.
On the other hand, there was another pub within Diagon Alley -more than one actually, sort of like 'bars' in tourist areas. 'There is always a bar, always a lighthouse, always a city.' Sort of thing.
This pub was called 'The Lit Candle', and...well, it was just like the Leaky Cauldron, if not for the unknown pub owner and the wizards eating.
And the owner was a fairly large matron-like figure who could have been a female version of Nurgle.
"Hey there sweetie, what are you doing all alone here?" she asked, concern in her voice as she looked at Harry from beyond the counter. "Are you lost?"
"No ma'am," Harry replied as I gave him the words to say. "I'm getting my school supplies for Hogwarts and I stopped for lunch. And I've got no parents to speak of, so I can't have lost them."
"Make an awry smile," I said calmly, and Harry tried his hardest to do it. Since he was generally uncomfortable about speaking of 'not having parents' and since he did sort-of look like a scrawny eleven year old -not Radcliffe, surprisingly, but how the 'book' portrayed Harry- the matron lapped it all up.
"Oh my, you poor thing. Hungry then? Sit right here and I'll get you something right away!"
She smiled.
And I offhandedly followed her as she went into the kitchens.
...
I knew it.
I fucking knew it.
Stasis charm, and Replication Charm.
Buy one meatloaf, hold it in stasis, and then replicate it ad infinity.
Infinite food.
I knew it.
I knew it.
And they made people pay for infinite food.
And the prices of the meals...weren't much there. One knut, two knuts, a sickle if you ordered something extremely exotic...uh, well, then again the price was probably concerning the drinks and all of that.
Oh, and Butterbeer. There was also a sort of strange trinket that actually conjured Butterbeer out of thin air.
Well, Cornelius Fudge could conjure Whiskey out of the tip of his wand, apparently 'food' was different from 'drinks'. You could conjure Drinks.
You couldn't conjure food.
What about soup?
Was it a drink or a food?
I hummed as I thought about it while the matron returned with a large glass of butterbeer and a meatloaf.
"The butterbeer's hot. Drink it slowly or you'll scald your tongue dearie. There's a bit of a chill out there too. You going to be all right?"
"Yes ma'am," Harry said softly. "I'm used to it."
"Aw," the Nurgle-Matron cooed. "You're so sweet I'd eat you up in one gulp."
Nurgle, is that really you?
I eyed the matron.
Could she be a Nurgle spawn?
"Emperor protects," I whispered. "Emperor protects, you hear me Nurgle spawn!?"
Harry was embarrassed rather than frightened.
Then again, he didn't know what a Nurgle-spawn was, and...ahh, it was a figure of speech?
Uh.
Who would have known.
"I'm keeping my eyes on you, Nurgle," I said calmly, eyeing the matron.
And then Harry ate.
I pulled through the meatloaf and the butterbeer, and ate too.
It was good.
I admit, when you've got a replicating charm and a stasis one, all you need to do is make *one* perfect meatloaf, and then keep replicating that.
In that way, it remains perfect, and you always serve perfection.
That's a smart idea all right.
"Delicious," I moaned. "Delicious! Tell her she's a great cook! This is good!"
"It's good ma'am, you're a great cook," Harry said, looking pleasantly satisfied and also terribly drowsy.
The 'aftermath' of his escape was starting to get to him, I suspected.
"Aw, you're a polite little boy aren't you? You'll make me blush."
Not so surprisingly, Harry didn't have to pay for his lunch.
I still wondered whether it was because an eleven year old orphan had the pity card on his side, or if it was because some witches and some wizards were easily pudding to a bit of flattery.
It might have been a mixture of both, I suspected.
"Now," I said calmly. "We'll need..." a place to sleep.
Inns were out.
Muggle world was out.
It had to be someplace with a bed, at least.
...
At least until Harry learned some form of self-defense like the Incendio.
Then he'd set fire to the Dursley a couple of times, and Dumbledore would have no choice but to let him leave.
...
OR maybe ask Dumbledore directly.
Still, until then...
"The Knight Bus." I said, a grin on my lips. "It has beds and hot chocolate, but we'll need a destination I suspect...Uhm...where can we go? You have any idea?"
Harry shook his head.
"Well..." I turned thoughtful. Sirius Black was in Azkaban. I wondered...'magic' was magic all right...could...did it even...
Well, technically it was a magical bus.
...
And Azkaban was a prison.
Prisoners could receive visits, since that was how Crouch Junior had escaped. And if the bus didn't service Azkaban, then the Floo Network certainly did.
...
"Well Harry, no other choice around it," I said calmly. "Steel yourself, because we're going to meet your Godfather."
In a prison of soul-sucking Cthulhu-like abominations.
But he was Harry Potter and I was Shade.
...
Better not tell him what I did to another him when I crossed him over with Cthulhu.
