Chapter 7
Harry perched on the swing next to Daniel, waiting patiently for his prey; Dudley and his gang of knuckle draggers would be along in about five minutes if they kept to their usual pattern. He absently listened to Daniel chattering away about something irrelevant and scanned his eyes over the otherwise deserted area. He knew Sergei and Alex were nearby, even if he couldn't see them, and he entertained himself by trying to spot anything that might give them away.
The past few weeks in their presence had been unexpectedly pleasant, the three of them falling into a comfortable routine with Marcel popping in and out each day. The healer still stayed with them, monitoring Harry closely; daily checkups and a strict meal plan an accepted – if mildly irritating - part of their standard interactions.
Because Harry was finishing out the school year to avoid suspicion, they were holding off on healing the long term abuse until the start of the holidays; however Sergei and Alex had started teaching him some of the less combative topics as soon as he had caught up on a little sleep. They'd discussed tactics, weapons, society, etiquette, history, camouflage, and what felt like a hundred other topics, all knowledge that the mercenaries were proud to see Harry soaking up eagerly. They'd made plans for when they would visit Gringotts, and the men were secretly pleased that Harry intended to continue his association with the Andrews. Despite his mental maturity, all three men firmly believed it important for Harry to have some non business related interactions with people, especially ones his own age. He would never be a normal child, but they could at least help him find a small degree of it in his daily life.
Harry smirked slightly when he caught the signal from his guards that Dudley and his gang had been spotted heading his way. Turning to Daniel, he interrupted the verbalised stream of consciousness.
"You want to stick around? I'll be dealing with Dudley momentarily."
Daniel's eyes widened in apprehension. "What are you going to do?"
Harry blinked and smiled innocently. "Nothing permanent."
Thinking carefully, Daniel pursed his lips and scuffed his toe on the ground under the swing. "Um, yeah, alright. But I don't want them to see me. I'll be over in those bushes, ok? Just in case." He peered up at Harry uncertainly.
"No problem. Just don't freak out. It might get a little messy, yeah?"
Daniel nodded anxiously and ducked into the nearby bushes, just before Dudley and his goons entered the park.
Harry waited calmly as they spotted him and sauntered over, their jeers and threats reaching his ears, only to be ignored. He continued swinging gently, pretending to be lost in thought.
Dudley jiggled to a stop, his piggy eyes – so like his fathers' – glinting with undisguised glee at finding such a weak target. Since his cousin had been taken away, his home life was different, and he wasn't sure he liked it. He'd put three holes in the wall during his last tantrum because he didn't have his usual punching bag to take it out on, making his parents cross with him since he couldn't blame it on Harry anymore. Plus his mothers cooking wasn't as good – something he complained about loudly at every meal time. They'd even given him chores!
"Look who we have here, boys!" He called mockingly to his friends. "You know, it's been a while since we had a good round of Harry Hunting! What d'you say, Freak? Up for a game?" He cracked his knuckles and stepped forward menacingly.
Harry yawned, covering his mouth delicately.
Dudley scowled, trying to hide his confusion. "Anyone would think that you want a beating."
Harry smiled predatorily, though Dudley seemed oblivious to the danger. "Sure, it's been a while. Why don't you try? Teach me my place." He stood, arms down by his sides and blinking up at his taller cousin.
Dudley could feel the stares from his friends burning into his back. His cousin had never stood up to him before. He couldn't let that go unpunished; it set a bad… What was the word? Prescription? President? He puffed up, trying to cow Harry into acting like he normally did, but Harry just smiled faintly and waited. With a grunt of annoyance, Dudley drew back his fist and threw a clumsy punch at the dark haired boy.
Stepping to the side and grabbing the wrist as it swept past his head, Harry lithely turned and twisted, neatly folding Dudley's arm behind him and forcing him to bend at the waist. Taking advantage of this; Harry swiftly raised his knee into Dudley's descending face.
As blood and a pained grunt erupted from the bigger boy, Harry looked at the gaping members of Dudley's gang, smiling toothily. He dropped the limp boy, and kicked him hard in the stomach.
Dusting his hands lightly, he eyed the other boys. "Anyone care to defend your glorious leader?"
Dudley's best friend, second in command, and brains of the outfit Piers Polkiss held his hands up, placatingly. "I think you've made your point, Potter. No trouble from us, right?"
Harry nodded cautiously. "I need to have a little chat with Dudley here. I suggest you be somewhere else now."
The other boys turned obediently and started to leave as swiftly as they could manage without running.
"Oh, one last thing?" Harry called after them, waiting until they'd all returned their attention to him. "Leave Daniel Andrews alone." The cowed boys nodded obediently and resumed their less than dignified exit.
Collective dominance can be a powerful tool. If you can defeat the Alpha, the rest of the pack will follow.
Returning his attention to his cousin, Harry was amused and disgusted to see that Dudley had thrown up all over himself after the boot to the gut. Apparently nachos had been the snack of the afternoon, judging by the remnants now decorating the ground.
Squatting, Harry ignored the smell and pursed his lips as he looked the boy over. He felt Sergei, Alex and Daniel join him, and tossed a quick glance at them over his shoulder before moving to sit on the swing again.
"Dudley, these men have a job for you. I'd suggest you listen carefully, our employer is not a particularly forgiving man."
Sergei stepped forward and lifted the terrified boy off the ground, sitting him none too gently on the end of a conveniently nearby bench. He moved to stand behind him, keeping one hand clamped authoritatively on his shoulder.
"Hello Dudley," Alex smiled coldly and offered him a handkerchief. "How would you like to earn some extra money?"
Dudley took it and wiped ineffectually at the blood still trickling from his nose and lips, eyeing the nicely dressed man warily. "What d'you want me to do?"
"Oh, nothing too strenuous, I promise. My employer believes that someone may come to your house, asking questions about your cousin. All we want you to do is send us a text from this phone if that happens." Alex held up a small mobile phone, keeping it out of reach of the greedy child. "Do you think you can do that?"
Dudley nodded, his eyes wandering over to Harry who was watching calmly, swinging slightly and resting his head on the chain. Daniel was on the swing next to him, not bothering to hide his interest in the proceedings. "Yeah, I can do that. How much are you going to pay me?"
Alex handed over the phone and charger, along with an envelope filled with small notes. "How does £100 a month sound?"
Dudley gaped, looking at the contents of the envelope. Even his parents wouldn't give him that much money all at once! Snapping his mouth shut, the obese nine year old nodded dumbly.
"Good! Now, the number to text is in the phone already. Do you know how to work it?" On seeing the boy nod, Alex smiled again. "Of course you do, clever lad that you are! Now, this phone is very important, alright? Nobody is to know about it, or what we want you to do. Not your parents, not your friends, nobody. It stays with you at all times. If it gets lost or damaged, the money stops, understand?"
Dudley nodded enthusiastically. Even when he was being nice, the man talking to him was very scary, and coupled with the huge man behind him with a painful grip on his shoulder, he was close to wetting himself. "Can I use it for other stuff too?"
Alex frowned severely. "No. This phone belongs to the boss, not you. If you want to call your little friends, you need to get your own." Relaxing again, he looked Dudley firmly in the eye. "That said, if you are ever in trouble, call the number in there. You work for the boss now, and as long as you do your job, he'll look after you. Got it?"
Nodding again, Dudley found his shoulder released and the men walking away with Harry and Daniel in tow. He looked down at the phone in wonder, greedily contemplating the things he could buy with his new money. And he got another £100 in a month!
"Oh, and Dudley," he glanced up at the retreating men. "The more details you can give us of whoever is asking questions, the bigger your bonus will be; assuming, of course, that you are telling the truth. My boss does not take kindly to having his time wasted with lies."
Dudley gulped and nodded, watching as the men and boys walked out of sight.
As they exited the park, Daniel looked at Harry and grinned. "Well that was all very dramatic!"
Harry rolled his eyes and replied dryly. "I live to entertain."
Daniel frowned slightly. "Though it wasn't as, you know, drawn out as I was expecting."
Glaring slightly, Harry pouted up at Sergei. "Honestly, there's just no pleasing some people!"
The commiserating nod from the giant Russian was worth listening to Daniel splutter indignantly the rest of the way home.
Harry collapsed onto the couch when they arrived back at the flat after dropping Daniel home.
"Did you get the charm on him?"
Sergei glowered at his diminutive boss, offended. "Of course we did. He can't talk about his assignment, and the compulsion charm will make sure he keeps the phone charged and close to himself at all times."
Harry nodded. He knew his guards wouldn't have failed, but he thought it important to check just in case. "And Daniel?"
"A pleasant visit to the park, with no interruptions. He doesn't remember anything."
"Any other business for today?"
Alex pulled out his ever present notebook, checking through it quickly. "We've arranged with Mama Andrews to take you, Daniel and Greg to Diagon Alley next Saturday. I'll put together a list of the basics we'll need to get you while we are there. I'd recommend you visit Gringotts too. It may tip our hand if Dumbledore is having your accounts monitored, but I have a few contacts among the goblins. For the right price, I'm sure we can stop word getting out just yet." He nodded in thanks as Marcel entered from the kitchen, handing him a cup of tea. "I'd also recommend we get you at least one set of better muggle clothes for the outing. I know you've been holding off since there isn't much point getting you a complete new wardrobe until Marcel has finished your healing since you will probably be growing a fair bit during it, but you will attract attention in your current rags. You want mid range clothing that won't make you stand out. Wizarding clothes are a different matter though, since we can add self adjusting sizing charms to them; we should take the opportunity to get you fitted."
Harry tilted his head thoughtfully; sipping the glass of milk he'd been handed. "Why can't we add them to the muggle clothes too?"
Marcel smiled, settling himself into his favourite armchair. Alex was well versed in appropriate clothing for all occasions, but the healer was the resident fashion expert. "The charms don't work properly on muggle fabrics. Wizards use different types of dyes that help bind the magic into the threads. Muggle clothes can be manually resized or transfigured once or twice, but the fabric will disintegrate quickly. Muggle leathers are a little sturdier, but still won't hold any charms properly." He sipped his coffee.
Giving his healer an odd look, Harry nodded in acceptance. "Alright, we'll go get a couple of outfits tomorrow – yes, Marcel, you can come and help pick them out – and then I'd like to spend the rest of the day at the Lab."
"What about school?" Alex interjected.
"Call in and tell them I'm unwell or have appointments or something. Get them to give any homework to Daniel to pass along. We'll go as soon as the shops open, I'd like to get the clothing ordeal over with as quickly as possible." He ignored Marcel's pout, and stood, stuffing a biscuit into his mouth and dusting the crumbs off his fingers. "Marcel, plan out what I need for the next couple of days and where best to get them. I want to be in and out as fast as humanly possible." Business concluded, he walked into his room and threw himself into studying his latest interest – incendiary devices.
Friday started earlier than planned with a phone call from Bradshaw. He had located three houses and a penthouse that he thought might interest Vahan, and wanted to know how Harry preferred to approach it this time around. Harry sighed and decided that he would stop into Bradshaw and Cohen after the planned shopping trip, and put in a full day at the Lab on Sunday. He disliked adjusting his schedule at the last minute, but Alex and Sergei had both pointed out that being too rigid in his habits made him predictable, and predictable people got dead. Since it agreed with a lesson from Dave, Harry didn't fight the advice, forcing himself to be as flexible as possible – figuratively and literally.
Grumbling as he dried off from the shower, he dressed in his hand me downs, armed himself as usual, and stalked out into the kitchen.
Taking his usual seat at the head of the table, he glared when an overly chipper Marcel placed his carefully balanced meal in front of him. Harry knew he was lucky that all three of the men he had hired were excellent cooks, and more to the point didn't expect him to do any of the housework, but he was irritable and spoiling for a fight this morning.
"I don't want it. Make something else." He pushed the plate away, ignoring how tempting it actually was.
Marcel smiled, amused. "Too bad. I may be your employee, Mr Potter, but you hired me to look after your health. Since we aren't able to begin your healing just yet, I need to make sure your body is as well prepared for it as possible. That means I have Healers Rights, and in matters regarding your health, you will do as you are told." He pushed the plate back.
Scowling, Harry caved, the delicious smells proving too much to resist. "Healers Rights aren't a thing."
Marcel sat in front of his own plate, leaving the seats on either side of Harry free for his body guards. "Sure it is. Who's to define what things are things anyway?" He responded blandly, sipping his coffee.
Harry glared again, only to be completely ignored by his infuriating employee.
"I could fire you."
"But you won't. Who else would go to the trouble to arrange your breakfast in the shape of a smiley face?"
Harry paused and glanced at his plate for a long moment. "Is that what it is? I thought it was a giraffe. A dead one. I'm certain there is artistic dismemberment adorning my plate. Are you branching out into post modern art? Is this from your blue period?"
Marcel ignored him with all the aplomb of a man trying to pretend he isn't offended, burying his nose in the Daily Prophet, the wizarding newspaper that was delivered each morning by an owl of all things.
Alex and Sergei joined them at the table, quickly assessing their boss's mood. Eyeing each other, they argued silently before Sergei sighed heavily and took the bullet.
"What's got you uptight, Boss?"
Harry poked at his food and mumbled.
"Didn't catch that."
Heaving a sigh, Harry rolled his eyes. "The only times I've been clothes shopping were when Aunt Petunia took Dudley. It was horrible. There was fawning and cooing and gushing - lots of gushing. And I just know Marcel is going to go overboard and make Aunt Petunia look like a paragon of restraint." He stuffed a forkful of scrambled egg into his mouth, ignoring Alex's reproving look at his lack of manners.
The men glanced at each other lips twitching. Even Sergei's habitual stoicism seemed pushed to the limits.
"You can gut a man twice your size then happily wander off to mutilate some corpses, but you're afraid to go clothes shopping?" Sergei sniggered.
"Don't be stupid," Harry snapped. "I'm not afraid of shopping. I'm wary of Marcel's fashion addiction!"
Sergei paused. "Alright, that is a valid concern."
Harry finally cracked a grin and they returned to their breakfasts, ignoring Marcel's indignant huffing.
It was odd, Harry mused to himself, that he was starting to develop an attachment to the men. He hadn't felt anything like that since his time with Dave.
Harry gazed around the final property he had come to inspect. It was huge; seven large bedrooms, five bathrooms, a study, massive family room, oversized modern kitchen, formal dining room, enormous backyard with established high hedges for perfect privacy, four car garage, pool, and a few other assorted features that all together made for a rather perfect package.
Sergei and Alex were doing a superb job of behaving like two well to do men looking for a new home to raise their newly adopted son. Harry was free to roam around the properties, acting like a typical excited nine year old while his men kept the agent busy with technical questions about the property and neighbourhood.
Harry had decided to purchase two of the houses and the penthouse. He had vague plans forming at the back of his mind for using the houses, and while he couldn't fully articulate them yet, an instinct told him that both houses would be necessary, not just the one he had originally planned. And, well, he liked the penthouse.
Bouncing back into the room, he ran up to his guards, grabbing their hands excitedly.
"This place is awesome!" He gushed, his face lighting up in a beaming grin. He knew the expression made his eyes sparkle, and combined with his messy hair and tiny stature, he was the poster child for adorable prepubescent manipulation. He'd practiced in front of the mirror until he got it perfect after seeing another child doing it to their parents at the park when begging for ice cream. "Is this going to be our new house?" He turned on the puppy dog eyes.
Alex smiled gently down at him, a hint of mischief in his eyes at Harry's performance. Looking quickly at Sergei, he cocked an eyebrow as if asking permission then turned to the agent. "I guess we'll take it! Our lawyer will look over the paperwork and process the sale as soon as possible."
When the agent had left, the men dropped their loved up act, and Harry resumed his habitual cool control.
"That was an impressive performance, Boss." Sergei commented approvingly.
Harry nodded slightly, barely reacting to the compliment. "Thank you. Once the paperwork is settled, I want one of you to get all three properties furnished. Make sure it's sturdy furniture – it will probably see a lot of rough use. Set up the bedrooms in the houses for two to four occupants each except the Master suite. We won't be staying here, I have other plans for this place, but I want a room kept ready for me anyway. And you too by extension, I suppose. In fact, make that a standing order for any properties we acquire." He paused, staring pensively out the window. "Set aside one other single room also - a nice one. Set up the penthouse like normal though, we'll be there often."
He turned, seeing their accepting looks. He was pleased that neither man felt it necessary to question even the more oddball directions.
Alex was scribbling the instructions in his notebook, making sure he didn't forget anything. He never had yet, but until he got to know his employer well enough to anticipate his needs and wants, he wasn't going to take the chance – or so he had explained to Harry.
"Did you want to stop anywhere else before heading home, Sir? It's nearly dinner time." Alex looked up as he finished his notes.
Tilting his head thoughtfully, Harry tossed a few ideas around mentally. "No, but I think I'd like a pizza and movie night tonight. I haven't done that before. You guys pick the movie, I've never seen one, I don't have a preference."
Heading out to their hired car, Harry silently mulled over the new plans forming in his mind, ignoring the friendly bickering of his companions about what movies they would watch that night.
Harry's first introduction to Diagon Alley had his jaw open and eyes on stalks. He knew that it was separate world, but he hadn't really understood how different it was. Gazing around at all the bizarre fashions and mind boggling goods for sale, Harry decided quickly that he had a lot more research to do.
"Alright there, Sir?" Alex whispered to the overwhelmed boy, his hand resting comfortingly on his frail shoulders.
Harry looked up at him, emerald eyes shining with apprehension. "I don't think I know enough societal forms for this world yet," he whispered back.
Alex smiled encouragingly. "That's what I'm here for, Sir. I'll be teaching you what you need to know, but until then, just let me handle it, and learn what you can from watching. Sound good?"
Harry nodded in relief, glancing around again. Squaring his bony shoulders, he nodded more decisively. "Can we come back here without the Andrews and do a proper shop soon?"
Alex and Sergei grinned, knowing exactly what Harry really meant. Knockturn Alley was going to get a new customer.
"Sure we can. Until then, smile. Mama Andrews is watching."
Harry blinked, assuming the persona the Andrews family were more familiar with. Smiling shyly, he pointed to a bookshop by the name of Flourish and Blotts, and asked the maternal woman if they would have time to have a look around later.
"Of course we can dear," she grinned, trying not to coo at how overwhelmed he seemed. She'd been briefed by Sergei and Alex to not refer to Harry by his name if it could possibly be avoided, the men explaining that Harry's new father didn't want his new son having to combat hordes of press vultures at such a young age. While she didn't think much of a man who would adopt such a damaged child and then head off on a long term business trip leaving him with only two body guards to care for him, she agreed that the elusive Mr Smith had the right idea, about this at least.
"After we get you fitted for your new clothes, and you've finished your business at Gringotts, then we'll explore the Alley if we have time. Sound good?" Seeing Harry nod, she grabbed Daniel and Harry's hands, and began towing them gently after her towards Twillfitt and Tattings; the other men taking position around them.
On entering the store, Harry was chivvied up onto a stool, where he cast an amused look at a studiously blank faced Alex. He knew that Marcel had demanded this particular establishment be visited, since his butler-cum-bodyguard preferred to shop at Clotho's Spindle.
The argument between the two about which shop Harry would be patronising had been epic, and as far as Harry was concerned, highly entertaining. He'd retired before the conclusion, not bothering to inform the men that he intended to visit both. He wondered just how Marcel had beaten the notoriously bull-headed mercenary into submission. He suspected there may have been threats to withhold Marcel's triple chocolate brownies, in which case Harry could fully understand why the ex-military man had stood down. Those things were incredible.
Standing patiently, Harry tolerated being poked and prodded, measured, posed, dressed, tutted and fussed over, and generally used as a manikin.
An hour and a half, and ninety six outfit changes later, Harry cast a glance at Alex.
Taking his cue, Alex put a stop to the proceedings, arranging for the best fifteen outfits to be tailored, imbued with every possible charm that could be worked into them, and advised he would be back in a week to collect the order. Guiding a quietly scowling Harry out the door, man and boy took a deep breath of relief.
"I want to visit Clotho's Spindle too," Harry murmured quietly to his guard.
Alex smirked faintly. "Really? After all of that?"
Harry frowned. "I want ice cream first." He folded his arms and pouted slightly, knowing that it made him look like a brat, but too irritable to really care.
Alex, Sergei, and Mama Andrews shared an amused look.
"Sure thing," Mama Andrews grinned down at the sulky child. "Florean Fortescue's it is!" The party resumed their previous formation, with Alex and Sergei scanning the crowd at all times, and glaring at anyone foolish enough to get too close.
After fighting their way through the crowd, they finally made it to their destination, the reduced jostling greatly appreciated by all parties.
Harry's eyes goggled when he was told to choose what sundae he wanted, and his eyes swept over the absurd amount of flavours to choose from. Dave had once bought him a small chocolate ice cream after Harry had managed to score nearly £500 in an afternoon of pick pocketing, but he had no idea that there could be so many different flavours! He doubted even Dudley had ever tried so many different types. Feeling overwhelmed, Harry turned panicked eyes to his guards.
Sergei put a calming hand on the boy's shoulder, gently tugging him to lean against the older man's hip. He ignored Alex's faintly amused look at his willingness to comfort the child, and continued to scan the area.
Alex squatted down in front of Harry, his normal gentle smile in place. "Would you like me to order for you?" Seeing Harry's shaky nod, he nodded back agreeably. "Have you had ice cream before?"
"I had a chocolate one once when I was five." Harry responded timidly, and observed a flash of something cross Alex's eyes.
"Alright, how does a chocolate, vanilla, and caramel sundae with toffee bits and hot fudge sauce sound?"
Harry grinned faintly, and nodded. He looked around at the people crowding into the store; families with overexcited and sugar buzzed children, teens on dates, and the occasional senior citizen reliving their youth with long term favourites. The colours and noise were overwhelming; there were too many people, too many details, and it was all getting lost and jumbled in his head as he tried to assess and read each one.
He whined quietly and started to tremble, eyes darting around frantically. Only the large hand steady on his shoulder and the hip against the side of his face kept him from bolting as fast and as far as he could manage.
Sergei felt the change as Harry started to panic, and realised what was happening. The kid hadn't been around so many people in a long time, if ever, and was driving himself crazy trying to absorb all the input. He cursed mentally, there was no way they could get out without drawing attention, and Harry had specifically told them he wanted to avoid that at all costs today. He signalled Alex, and indicated the back room. Alex nodded, and quickly informed Mr Fortescue that they needed to borrow the back room to calm their charge down before he had a panic attack.
Fortescue took one look at the pale and shaking boy, and opened the way through the counter for the men.
Mama Andrews cast concerned looks at their retreating backs, but realised that there wasn't anything she could do besides find a booth for when they came back. She took possession of Harry's sundae, and with a similarly loaded Greg and Daniel behind her, made her way to an out of the way corner booth to wait.
Harry was shuddering as Sergei sat on an upturned bucket and pulled him into his lap while Alex secured the room. He couldn't prevent himself from burrowing into the solid warmth of the huge Russian, and as soon as the muscled arms wrapped firmly around him, he started to relax.
Being held was still a new thing for him, and physical contact was something he still generally avoided, but the men had discovered that on the occasions that Harry needed help winding his abilities back under control, Sergei was able to calm him the fastest.
Neither man understood why this was the case, especially since Alex was the more tactile and relatable of the two (though not by much, since both men were too paranoid to be comfortable with people close to them), but something about the Russian's gruff no nonsense approach seemed to reach the boy in ways that Alex's calm control couldn't.
Harry rested his ear against Sergei's chest, and let the steady thump of his heart set the pace for his mind as he worked through the massive input. He closed his eyes and allowed his breathing to settle as he sifted and processed, watching the patterns form and the raw data arrange itself into meaningful information.
He was frustrated and disgusted at his inability to do this on the spot, and vowed to expose himself to the influx as long and as often as needed to overcome this pathetic deficiency. He couldn't avoid crowds forever, and even if he could, he wouldn't want to. Weaknesses were unacceptable, especially in his line of work.
Taking a few deep breaths, he flooded his body with oxygen and consciously relaxed each muscle group like his men had taught him after his first panic attack in their presence. Finally calm and centred again, he opened his eyes and sat up, slipping from Sergei's lap with a faint blush.
"Well, that was fun," he quipped dryly.
Sergei kept his face impassive and stood up without comment, while Alex chuckled lightly.
"If you say so, Sir. I assume you plan to desensitize?"
Harry nodded firmly, his hands clasped behind his back and his feet braced. "Yes. Once my healing is complete, arrange for a regular outing to a crowded place twice a week. We can work out details later." He rolled his shoulders, and took on his former persona, looking expectantly at the door. "Ice cream?"
Sergei rolled his eyes and opened the door, stepping protectively in front of Harry on the way through. Alex brought up the rear, closing the store room door behind them and nodding a thank you to the concerned shop keep.
Spying the Andrews holding a booth for them, the men joined them, Harry being guided to sit next to Daniel, with Alex on his right between him and the edge of the bench seat. Sergei sat at the other end of the bench, the two guards effectively bracketing the party and ensuring all directions were clearly visible and regularly swept for threats.
Harry was thrilled that his ice cream hadn't melted in the fifteen minutes he'd been freaking out; quickly snatching up his spoon and scooping the first bite of frozen confection into his mouth. He moaned softly in delight, eyes fluttering slightly as he analysed and committed to memory every nuance he could detect.
Mama Andrews watched sadly as Harry took such obvious joy in something so simple. When the little boy had been taken out the back to calm down, she had cast a preservation charm on their desserts, not wanting Harry to come back to melted smoosh. She cursed herself for never thinking to give him something like ice cream, having been more focused on feeding him as much nutritious food as she could stuff into him before he returned to those accursed relatives of his. She watched him savouring each bite, but guarding his bowl as if it would be taken away at any moment. She was grateful that the men tasked with Harry's care were so responsive to his needs.
Finishing their desserts, they made their way through the crowds to Clotho's Spindle, where Harry once again did his best manikin impression. He had to admit, the formal feel of Clotho's robes were a little more comfortable for him than the height of fashion that he'd been draped in at Twillfitt and Tattings. He could see why Alex (in all his toff glory) preferred it. That said he had liked the forest green robes with tiny copper toned leaves embroidered around the hems that Mr Tatting had suggested. He hoped Alex had added that one to his order.
Eventually the fabric based trauma was over, and after a hearty lunch at the Leaky Cauldron the party separated, with Harry and his guards making their way to Gringotts.
Harry stared up at the huge marble building, awed at such unusual construction. The building seemed to bend the eye, appearing both solid and strong, but also slightly off centre in a way that couldn't be quite defined. Harry wondered if it was the high concentration of wards that created the haze effect.
He read the warning over the entry, and nodded a polite greeting to the Goblin guarding the door. He wasn't concerned that the guard barely acknowledged him, having been warned by Alex that the Goblins were an unfriendly bunch.
Harry glanced around curiously from his position between the two men. He was exhausted from his earlier melt down, and despite being fascinated by the Goblins and their bank, he just wanted to finish his business and go home. He wanted more books too, but right now the urge to curl up and sleep was more pressing.
Alex led them over to an open teller. "Good afternoon Sliprock. I'd like to see Gutshank please."
Sliprock sneered, though in a manner slightly friendlier than he had to his previous customers, and directed them to follow another Goblin through the discrete doors off to the side.
The party followed the squat little creature through a maze of identical corridors and doorways, before halting in front of one that seemed no different to any of the others. With a curt knock and a signal to enter, they found themselves in front of a huge oak desk and the ugliest goblin to ever grace the banking system sitting behind it.
"Mr Charleston," the creature's gravelly voice matched his deformed appearance perfectly. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
Alex smiled placidly. "Gutshank, it's good to see you again. There is a matter of extreme delicacy that requires your finesse. Would you be interested in a challenge?"
Gutshank's face rearranged itself into a horrific expression that bared his teeth, which Harry assumed was supposed to be a smile. With the heavy scarring and what looked to be natural deformation as well, it was remarkably hard to accurately read his expression.
"Always, though as you know, such attention doesn't come cheaply."
Alex nodded slightly in acknowledgement. "And your discretion regarding our enquiries is assured regardless of outcome?" He casually toyed with a small coin bag, from which a heavy clinking could be heard.
Eying the bag greedily, Gutshank snorted. "Of course; have I ever let you down?"
Alex smiled, and tossed the bag onto the desk, from where it promptly disappeared into cavernous pockets. "I knew I was right to recommend you for this job. Gutshank, Mr Potter here has a few questions about his accounts, but we suspect that they are being watched, and possibly accessed without his knowledge or permission. We need access and information, without it getting back to his little stalker."
Gutshank turned his beetle like eyes onto the small boy who sat so still between the two men. He took in the calm and almost bored expression, and smiled again. "Mr Potter is it? Well, this is interesting. What's it worth to you?"
Harry sighed slightly and flicked his hand, a small blade imbedding itself into the desk just in front of the startled Goblin. "Depends on what you can do for me. Full account information without tipping off my watcher is worth a hundred Galleons, with another fifty each time if you are able to update me on any changes. Access - with the same parameters - is another hundred. Depending on what is found regarding my accounts, there may be new portfolios to manage and a generous cut of the profits. The more thorough you are in acting in my best interests, the better you will be compensated. While I'm the paranoid sort personally, Mr Charleston recommends you highly for this type of work, particularly on an ongoing basis. I'm sure he would be most irritated with me if I was forced to dispose of you. That said, he works for me, and if it comes down to it, his displeasure doesn't bother me particularly. If you flap your lips, I'll cut them off."
Gutshank eyeballed the small child for a moment, before burst into raucous laughter that was reminiscent of a small to medium scale rockslide. "Alright, Mr Potter, I'll sniff around for you. Tell me what you know, so I have an idea what I'm looking for."
By the time Harry and his men left Gutshank's office, he felt confident that his newest contact would do his best on Harry's behalf. The little creature was outraged at the idea that the privacy of Harry's finances may have been compromised (rather hypocritically, Harry thought) and agreed that the chances were high, especially since Harry had never even received a bank statement.
Steeling himself, Harry prepared for one last errand before he could go home and collapse. After meeting up with the Andrews again, Harry tiredly began to explore the tightly packed shelves at Flourish and Blotts. Alex hovered discretely nearby, ready to take possession of any selections or offer advice, while Sergei kept a weather eye on the Andrews and surrounding crowd.
Half an hour later, Harry was browsing the sports section in a back corner of the shop, when another boy roughly bumped into him and sent him reeling into the shelf.
The boy was about the same age as Harry, with clean limbs and pale pointed features, white blond hair slicked back severely, and an expression of distaste that seemed a permanent fixture. The boy looked down his nose at Harry, clear grey eyes flicking over him critically.
"Watch where you're going!" He snapped rudely.
Before Harry could respond, Alex, Sergei, and another tall man who could only have been the boy's father, converged on them.
The tall man was aristocratic and severe, his platinum blond hair worn longer and tied back with a black ribbon. He tapped his slender walking stick irritably, and Harry noticed it was topped with a vicious looking snakes head. His cold silvery gaze swept over the people assembled as if he was doing them a favour by being in their presence, at great inconvenience to himself, no less. His eyes widened very slightly as he recognised Sergei, and he quickly assessed Alex as well, before turning his probing gaze to Harry.
"Are you alright, Boss?" Sergei asked quietly, while pinning the squirming albino brat in place with a hard look.
Harry nodded quietly, handing Alex a book on Quidditch to add to his pile. "I'm fine," he murmured back.
Sergei nodded, turning to the as yet unintroduced man. "Malfoy," he grunted, keeping his voice soft enough to not be overheard by other patrons. "Might want to teach that boy of yours not to judge a book by its cover. Could get him hurt, sooner or later." He kept his gaze steady as the man in front of him absorbed the warning for what it was.
Lucius was not a foolish man. Despite the obscuration charms on both men and the boy they were guarding, he knew who and what both men were – if only by name and reputation in the case of Alex Charleston. The boy was still a question mark, but anyone who commanded such loyalty from the most vicious mercenary he'd ever had the terror to meet was not someone to take lightly. That Petrikov had called the boy 'boss' was food for thought also. It meant that the child himself held the man's allegiance, not some absent guardian. He turned back to the boy, and bowed very slightly.
"I apologise for my son's rudeness. I am Lucius Malfoy. Perhaps you would consent to join us for dinner next week to allow us to make amends?" He waited patiently, carefully hiding his curiosity under a mask of polite enquiry as the mysterious child looked him over. It was disconcerting to be on the receiving end of an inspection like that for a change.
Finally the boy nodded. "Thank you, I'd like that. If you could arrange the details with Mr Charleston?" He cast a questioning look at Alex, who nodded serenely, firmly in his Butler act.
"Of course, Sir. I'll take care of everything." He handed Malfoy Snr his card, receiving one in return.
Draco watched this byplay curiously, trying very hard to ignore the huge man glaring at him. He didn't understand why his father was acting so deferentially to the other boy, but he wasn't going to disappoint his father again. The boy was wearing muggle clothes, new but not high quality, and seemed in dire need of a hair comb, but he must be very rich or powerful if his father was so keen to get in his good graces. Swallowing his pride, he waited until the conversation was finished before quietly attracting the boy's attention.
"Sorry about before," he squirmed.
The boy studied him impassively for a moment, and then nodded slightly. "No problem."
Turning back to the adults, he gestured to get their attention. "If you'll excuse me Mr Malfoy, I would like to get a couple of books on potions before heading home. I look forward to our dinner next week." He nodded slightly as he slipped away, trailed by a faithful Alex and fully aware that his lack of introduction had frustrated the curious man immensely.
Lucius turned to Petrikov after the boy was out of sight, a questioning look on his face.
Sergei smirked faintly at the confused socialite, before leaning close to speak quietly in his ear. "That boy is much more than he seems. You do not want to get on his bad side. Not ever." With that, he followed his charge, leaving a stunned aristocrat and his bewildered offspring behind.
Lucius was brought out of his stupor when Draco timidly spoke.
"Father? Who was that boy?"
He shook his head slightly. "I don't know, son. But I intend to find out."