26

September 3rd. It's an evening. Gringotts.

*

Shnagrog has once again demonstrated its business prowess and speed. Kreacher returned after the evening PO Box check and brought me a letter inviting me to come to the talks with three recruits.

"Good afternoon, Master Shnagrog. Your efficiency is commendable!"

"Hello, heir to the Black family. I am interested in fulfilling your special orders. Because usually the manager of the family receives a percentage of the profit from the capital. The same profit, which, thanks to Sirius Black, now is not. The payment for your orders is almost entirely in my pocket."

"I do not doubt that by working as a team, you and I will have a good return by the end of this year, Master Shnagrog. As for the return on equity, you can use a fifth of the deposit for investment. I know it's not enough, but in time that part will get bigger. I hope to increase the deposit to 100,000 by the end of this year, Master Shnagrog. Let's talk about the candidates. Who are they?"

"The two squibs are the Calhoun brothers. They served at Royal Marines 21 from 1979 to 1982, SBS 22 from 1982 to 1986. They've been in private security ever since. One wizard is Andrew Creighton, a Muggle-born, Durmstrang graduate in combat magic. He has no experience, but he did well in his education."

"If you'd be so kind as to invite Mr. and Mr. Calhoun," I'm wearing the old man's amulet. It's nice to look like a solid man.

A minute later I saw two dark-haired men in their thirties, medium height, short hair, skinny "English" face. Their faces were completely calm. They were dressed unofficially and boldly, in jeans and jackets. The guys have courage. Coming to Diagon dressed as muggles is a brave act. In the summer, the Muggles are looked upon with contempt. But they're tolerated, everybody respects Hogwarts' choice, even if it fell on the Muggle bastard. Shnagrog was still present in the office as an intermediary.

"Gentlemen, the Shnagrog master briefed me on your professional experience. I want to know the answers to the questions. What do you expect from work and your employer? What are your long-term intentions?"

"What do we call you, mister?"

"Call me Sir. I'll let you know the details if we agree."

"As you see, sir, in the Muggle world, the USSR is about to fall apart. And then the British Army will dismiss one in three. We want to prepare in advance for a wave of professional crisis. We want to ensure our financial well-being in the only way we can."

"And what do you expect us to do, sir?" asked the "right" brother, who's been silent until now.

"I need a private army, due to the circumstances. I needed it yesterday, I need an army now, and I'll always need specialists loyal to me. I am a man who objectively assesses reality. I understand that ideally my army should be mixed and combine the strengths of Muggle and Magic military thought. Due to the same circumstances, I have many enemies. So I warn you. If you're looking for a warm, quiet place, this job is not for you. On the other hand, I will not send you to slaughter. I will never sacrifice you as pawns. With me, you will indeed be financially secure. If the terms of the cooperation suit both parties, in a year it's possible to revise the terms of the contract on a more favorable basis for you and me."

The word "first" brother took it again:

"Sir, would you be as kind as to clarify the terms of the compensation."

"The first two months are a period of probation. I look up to you, you look up to me. At this time, your monthly salary will be two hundred and fifty galleons. If we're good for each other, your salary will increase to three hundred and fifty gallons a month. Fifty percent of the profit made in operations is divided among the executors. At this time you sign a standard magic contract of mercenaries to carry out my orders and non-disclosure. In a year, if we continue to arrange for each other, I will offer a lifetime service for the benefit of my family. It's vassalage. It's a matter of a magical family. It's out of the question."

The brothers are thinking, but more of a sight. Three hundred and fifty galleons a month - an amount not available to an average minister, and half of the trophies - also not bad.

"We agree to the terms, sir," replied two.

"Master Shnagrog, please give us copies of the magic contract. Would you be so kind as to be a witness?"

"Yes, sir," the goblin prudently didn't give out my incognito before the contract was made.

After the contract was made, I negotiated with Shnagrog a September salary transfer to the Calhoun brothers. Shnagrog replied, "It will be done, heir to the Black family." He revealed my name in this way and caused understanding in the eyes of the Calhoun's. I reported that in three days they would receive a portkey to the meeting place through Shnagrog. Then I let them go.

The conversation with Andrew Creighton went the same way, with the same result. Left finally alone with Shnagrog, I puzzled him with a new assignment.

"Master Shnagrog, thank you for a job well done. If you would be so kind as to give yourself a hundred galleons of premium. This is an award for speed and professionalism."

With these words, Shnagrog showed a charming smile of sixty-two teeth.

"I have a new assignment for you. I have to buy four or five houses, in a remote, rarely visited the place. Houses are needed to accommodate my mercenaries and organize a training camp. Unfortunately, the budget is limited. Fifteen thousand galleons for all expenses. But there are no special requirements for homes. Muggle's abandoned village will do for me. But the price should include installation costs for the village and the surrounding area of the Muggle repellent charms. Also, I need a magic law specialist's consultation next week. I'm looking for a reliable person to keep clients completely anonymous."

"It's interesting and profitable to work with you, heir to the Black family. I will contact you through the P.O. Box."

"Thank you, Master Shnagrog. See you soon."

"See you later."

*

Grimmo 12, living room.

Noon on September 4, 1991.

*

Note. Why is it noon?

The answer is. Because in the morning, Harry learns the path of a long sword strategy. He raises the level of negotiation with shotgun training. Harry bought a boxing bag and hung it up in his dojo. He sometimes kicks it during the warm-up but has no illusions for quick successes. With his height and weight, training with the sack is purely sporting.

*

Wouldn't hurt to dunk the bearded eyeglass face in shit again. That's where he belongs. When I thought about it, I started writing a letter.

*

Dear Mrs. Skeeter,

I hope the security measures you've taken are successful. Save you, Merlin!

In my last letter, I mentioned that I wanted to please you with excellent material. I was able to find out why Voldemort attacked my family. So, here's the outcome of my little investigation.

Death Eater Severus Snape told Voldemort that he overheard a certain "prophecy." According to this prophecy, children born at the end of July will be dangerous to Voldemort's life. In all honesty, the "prophecy" was said in Dumbledore's presence.

The prophecy included children from two families. This is the son of the Longbottom family and the son of the Potter family. Voldemort went to the Potters. However, he must have told his crazy colleagues that he intended to visit the Longbottoms. That's why, after Voldemort's death at the Potters' home, Lestranges and Barty Crouch Jr. went to the Longbottoms. They probably weren't sure he was dead and were looking for him, or they just wanted revenge.

Even before the ancient families died, Severus Snape joined Dumbledore. Snape reported that he'd set Voldemort on the Potters and the Longbottoms. Dumbledore had it in his hands because he was working to destroy Britain's oldest families. And Voldemort, at Snape's instigation, had to do the job for him.

After Voldemort's death, it was Dumbledore who saved Snape from Azkaban for a favor.

Plus, Dumbledore got a wonderful gift of dirt on Snape. Severus Snape turned into Dumbledore's slave, his "pocket eater", a home brewing potion.

Dumbledore did nothing to fight Voldemort. He sat in Hogwarts without a ride. He feared Voldemort to death, though he had his private army, the Order of the Phoenix. I allow the suggestion that Dumbledore may have fabricated a prophecy. This spider expected to buy himself a few extra months while Voldemort killed kids from random families. However, when Voldemort's choice fell on his associates... both Potters and Longbottoms were members of the Order of the Phoenix, even Sirius Black was part of this private illegal army. Dumbledore allowed Voldemort to kill members of ancient magical families. Then Dumbledore, as head of Wizengamot, also put Sirius Black in Azkaban without trial. He did it to get "custody" of me.

After all this, the question arises. Who's the nastier bastard? Voldemort's madman and murderer, or Dumbledore's calculating bastard, who's setting his comrades-in-arms under Voldemort's attack. And I assure you, my investigation is ongoing.

I believe that your talent, dear Rita, will help bring the truth to the people about Dumbledore's true nature.

Sincerely yours.

Harry Potter