6

Chapter 5

Harry woke the next morning with a grimace. He had stiffened up during the night and his injuries throbbed insistently, bringing his memories of the previous night into sharp relief. Edging his way out of the cot, he limped painfully to the bathroom, cringing when he saw his battered body in the mirror; he hadn't looked this bad since his "welcome home" from the Dursleys after Dave had been killed.

A hot shower later, he was able to move well enough to drag on some clean clothes from the dryer, and fix himself a cup of tea.

Sipping slowly and enjoying the aroma, he glanced at the backpack full of product ready for sale, and decided that he may as well stop by the Andrews to deliver it to Greg for distribution. There was no urgent need for the cash, but Mama Andrews was sure to give him a decent meal while he was there, which was convenient since he wasn't really capable of cooking at this point in time. Regretfully finishing his tea, he gingerly shouldered the pack and headed out the door into the brisk morning air.

Mama Andrews' eyes narrowed with rage when she saw the state of the tiny boy on her doorstep. Harry was swaying slightly and had a grey cast to his skin, clammy sweat glistening in the weak morning sun. He looked moments away from collapsing; the dark bruising visible just under his shirt collar sending alarm bells ringing through her mind. She fought back a vicious snarl for fear of frightening the sweet little boy she had grown ridiculously fond of. He was always so quiet and polite, and her heart broke every time he left to go back to his horrid relatives. Despite his harsh life, something about him just screamed his innocence, and she longed to be able to wrap him up in her arms and never let him be hurt again. Ushering him inside, she sat him gently at the table.

"Harry, what happened?" Her tone was kind but firm, a polite but unyielding demand.

Harry blinked up at her tiredly. "Wasn't the Dursleys, if that's what you're thinking. Ran into some trouble yesterday, but it's all been sorted."

Mama Andrews pursed her lips in irritation at the evasion. He was far too practiced at it, and getting information from him was often an exercise in futility. "Will you let me run some scans to make sure you are ok? I'm fairly nifty with healing charms and the like. Once we know what's wrong, I should be able to heal you up a bit."

Harry shook his head. "Thank you, but I need the injuries as they are. I'll need them to be documented later." Turning to nod a greeting to Greg and the Captain as they joined them at the table, he flicked a brief glance at the backpack at his feet. Greg blinked in acknowledgement, well used to this process.

They had the exchange down to a fine art now. Harry would arrive with a backpack full of product, and leave with an identical one full of cash. His next visit the bags would be switched again. It was remarkably effective, and even the hyper observant Daniel hadn't picked up on the exchanges.

"At least let me give you a potion for the pain. Look at you, you can barely move!"

Harry smiled slightly and accepted the offer and downed it quickly, the foul taste washed away immediately after by fresh orange juice and a pile of pancakes drowning in syrup. He still hadn't worked out the Andrews endgame, but he was more than willing to accept their hospitality for the time being if it kept him fed and relatively pain free.

"Mr Bradshaw."

The lawyer started, spilling his coffee down his shirt. Glaring slightly at the little boy sitting with his feet up on the desk and reclining comfortably in his leather executive chair, he mopped ineffectually at his ruined clothing.

"Do I even want to know how you got in here, unseen, in the minute and a half that I was away from my desk?" Despite his irritable words, his tone was fond exasperation.

"Does it matter?" Harry raised a mocking eyebrow.

Shaking his head, Bradshaw smiled slightly. "Would you like something to eat? I was about to send Sally out to pick up some lunch."

Harry shrugged. "Sure. Whatever you're having is fine."

Sticking his head out the office door to relay the order to his secretary, Bradshaw couldn't help but marvel at the child sitting so commandingly at his desk. For such a tiny little thing, he was full of surprises.

Turning back, he was amused to see the boy had moved from Bradshaw's chair, and was standing in front of the frame on the wall, gazing pensively up at the abstract artwork.

Using the opportunity to reclaim his seat, he leaned back and laced his fingers over his lightly muscled stomach. "I wasn't expecting to see you until later in the week, but I'm glad you came. Thank you for rescuing my family. I can't express how much that means to me to have them home and unharmed. The fact that you saved my business too is also worth noting." He paused, looking at the boy closely. "I spoke with my wife, she says that you personally saved them, you didn't just deliver them for your boss afterwards. I must say, the idea of a kid your age taking on four adult thugs and winning is very impressive, and a little intimidating. Have you done this sort of thing before?"

Harry gave him an inscrutable look. "Please don't misunderstand, Mr Bradshaw. My involvement in your protection is only as a part of the mutually beneficial agreement that I mentioned to you on our initial meeting. I have no personal interest in you or your family, and it would be a mistake to imagine I do."

Bradshaw smiled. "I'm aware of that. I'm also pleased to have my suspicions confirmed. You aren't Vahan's employee, are you, you are Vahan."

Harry nodded slightly in confirmation. "I am. And I require your services."

Bradshaw pulled the mobile he had been given from his pocket, placing it firmly on the desk. "This hasn't left my person, and as long as you are my client, it won't. You may not be particularly altruistic, but the fact remains that you rescued my family. You have my loyalty, particularly if you continue to protect my assets."

Harry smiled serenely. "Good to know."

"Just so you know, I got a hold of the police report and crime scene photos from where my family was kept. I thought it prudent to track the investigation so that we could work to prevent your exposure if they were getting too close. I'm not going to lie, what you did to those men…" He paused, turning slightly green and swallowing sickly. "Apparently the coroner isn't sure if most of it was done peri or post mortem. They're also having some trouble working out which parts belong to whom. Either way, you are a terrifying young man and I'm glad you apparently find me useful enough to keep around. In that vein, what do you need?"

Harry smiled faintly, quietly remembering the fun he'd had staging the corpses as gruesomely as he could manage. "You have been handling some transactions for a Mr John Smith. Mr Smith is looking to adopt a child."

Bradshaw blinked. "I'm assuming you are Mr Smith? Do I want to know how many alias's you have?" He huffed in exasperation and rubbed his eyes. "Did you have a particular child in mind, or do we need to find one?" It was a testament to his professionalism that he kept his bewilderment and slight hysteria well hidden.

Harry rolled his eyes, amused despite himself. "Yes I am, no you don't, and yes I do. I need to get away from my current guardians. Their ill treatment is beginning to interfere with my business, and that is unacceptable. I have a perfectly suitable adult identity for legal purposes. Therefore, Mr Smith will adopt me."

Bradshaw's lips twitched, fighting a giggle. "You're going to adopt yourself?"

Harry smirked.

"Alright, we can do that. Do you have a place you can live? Money to live on? What about school? Is there someone who can help look after you? I apologise if I'm prying, but these are all things I will need to know for the paperwork. Oddly enough, Child Services like to make sure an adult is capable of caring for the children they adopt."

"I have just purchased a flat that will serve well enough for the moment; you handled the transaction for me. Money isn't an issue as business is good right now, and John Smith has several bank accounts that are growing at a steady rate thanks to some careful investments. I was thinking to continue my current school until the end of the year, and then have home schooling, though I'm open to negotiation about that if you have information I haven't considered. As for someone to look after me, I am capable of looking after myself, however for the sake of appearances I believe it would be best if I hire one or two adults to play that role in public. I was hoping you might have some recommendations for that, actually."

"That's achievable. Are your current guardians likely to fight the adoption?"

Harry barked a laugh, startling the older man. "No. In fact, they'd be thrilled to be rid of The Freak. However, in the interests of being prepared for all possibilities, I'd like to put together a file that can be used to apply pressure if need be. I thought my injuries from last night would serve that purpose well enough. They've done worse in the past."

Bradshaw's eyes sharpened. "You were injured last night?"

Harry shot him a withering look. "I'm eight years old, and got into a hand to hand fight with a professional thug. What do you think?"

Bradshaw looked slightly ashamed. "I'm sorry; I didn't even ask you last night. Or today either. Do you need a doctor?"

Harry pondered for a moment. "A doctor's report for the file can only be beneficial for our case. Start filling in the paperwork and we can sort it out after that. I suspect that my business with you today will take most of the afternoon, if not all of it."

Nodding, Bradshaw pulled out the appropriate forms. "Alright. I have all John Smiths details, but I'll need yours. Name?"

"Harry Potter."

Bradshaw started, snapping the pen in his hand. "Excuse me?"

Harry sighed. "So you are aware of that world. I had my suspicions, but I wasn't sure. Yes, I'm Harry Potter. Yes, I'm THAT Harry Potter. No, I won't give you an autograph."

" I'm a squib, but I have contacts in both worlds, so I heard all about that business with You-Know-Who. Sorry, I just... Didn't expect you to be like... Well, you."

"Of course not. Now, can we get on with this please?"

"Right, of course."

The next hour was spent filling in forms and questionnaires; making sure the paperwork was legal in both worlds. Harry was most insistent that there be not a single loophole that could be used to contest his custody in either legal system. The issue of his Magical Guardian would need to be addressed later, once they knew who it was.

Bradshaw summoned a healer associate he trusted, explaining to Harry that a full health assessment would be best for the leverage file they had discussed.

"Alright young man, my name is Healer Marcel Blanca. I need you to drink this potion, and lay down on the couch. The potion will act similar to a contrast in your body, and work with the charm I'll cast to record your medical history and current health. You may feel a little strange while this is happening, but it's nothing to be afraid of, ok? It won't hurt."

Harry gazed back coldly. "You are being patronising. Stop it immediately."

Healer Blanca blinked. "I apologise. I find most children are afraid, particularly if they haven't been raised in our world."

"I am not most children. Reassurance is unnecessary; I prefer to deal in facts as much as possible. Explain what you are doing, and save the coddling for patients that need it."

Healer Blanca nodded. "Very well, shall we begin?"

Harry nodded and swallowed the potion, not even wincing at the taste. Healer Blanca raised an impressed eyebrow, but just helped Harry to arrange himself on the couch, and cast the diagnostic charm.

Blanca's dark eyebrows rose as the parchment recording the results grew longer and longer, before dropping into a ferocious scowl. His coffee coloured skin flushed in anger, and he turned his piercing black eyes to an ashen Bradshaw.

"Are you getting Mr Potter away from the animals that did this?"

Bradshaw nodded silently, shocked to his core, the father in him hurting for the boy.

Blanca nodded firmly, before turning back to his patient, noting that the lengthy document had finally ceased growing. Scanning over the arm length document with a practiced eye, he pursed his lips. "Mr Potter, you've suffered severe abuse; I've never seen the like in my entire career. I'm astounded you're still alive, to be blunt. You're malnourished, and have several related health problems. You'll require close and careful monitoring during treatment if you're to recover fully. Do you have a regular healer? And if so, why haven't they begun treatment already?"

Harry looked back, impassive. "I have never seen a healer, magical or muggle, in my life. Mr Bradshaw seems to find you trustworthy though, and I prefer any information about me be kept to as little a number of people as possible. Since you already know about me and Mr Bradshaw trusts you enough to handle my case, I would like to hire you as my personal healer. Are you agreeable?"

Blanca smiled widely, his perfect white teeth gleaming. "I'd be honoured, Mr Potter. Does your new guardian have a guest room? To provide you with adequate treatment, I believe it best if I am close by for at least the next month, perhaps two, depending on how you respond to the treatment. I'll cancel all of my other clients for the duration, to allow me to concentrate entirely on your case."

Harry blinked. "My injuries are severe enough to warrant around the clock care?"

The wide smile dropped into a small frown. "Not exactly; the injuries are severe and do require medical attention, but it's recovering from the other abuse and neglect that'll cause the problems. You've had several broken bones that've healed incorrectly; your growth has been stunted, plus there are problems with your heart, lungs, immune response, and bone density from the malnutrition. You also have some problems with your lower bowel from the sexual abuse you've endured. Treating these issues will be painful and take time. You'll be out of commission for a couple of weeks, and then you'll have to gain enough weight to be healthy, which will take time. After all of this, you'll need regular monitoring for at least a year, to make sure no other problems crop up after the treatment. To be honest, it's only due to your magic sustaining you that you haven't suffered any cognitive delays. In fact, it seems to have enhanced them exponentially to help you learn how to survive. Do you find yourself recognising patterns and such in things? Excellent memory? What about your ability to learn new skills unusually quickly? It's a fascinating phenomenon, quite rare. If I remember correctly, the last person this happened to was a man by the name of Severus Snape. He is now the premier Potions Master in all of Europe, possibly the world. Teaches at Hogwarts I think, though I have no idea why he would waste himself there. I've no doubt that we'll see great things from you, lad, no matter what you choose to do with your life." During this speech, the efficient man was posing Harry's stripped body and photographing the livid bruises and prominent bones. Everything was documented thoroughly, ready to be added to the file.

Bradshaw would add their version of "how" to the report later.

Looking thoughtful, Harry nodded. "I understand. We may be joined by some other employees if they are available immediately, so we may be a little crowded for a while. I hope that won't be a problem?"

"Since we'll be in such close contact, you may as well call me Marcel. I hate that stuffy title and surname nonsense. And no, crowded isn't an issue. It's probably best if I share your room for the first few weeks anyway, if that isn't too much of an imposition. I'll need to be able to monitor you constantly during the beginning stages of treatment. Now if you'll excuse me, I'll go prepare for the coming months. Shall I return here to collect you?"

Harry nodded. "It will be several hours before I will be ready to go, I still have several things to discuss with Mr Bradshaw. Is there anything that can't wait until this evening to be attended to?"

Marcel frowned, "No, not really, though I'd like to begin healing you as soon as possible. I'd recommend eating a carbohydrate and protein heavy meal between now and then, you'll need it. Eat as much as you can stomach, alright?" Receiving an affirmative nod, he spun on his heel and disappeared into the fireplace, muttering to himself as he mentally listed everything he needed to arrange.

Bradshaw let out a heavy sigh. "Alright, the papers are done, the file just needs me to add details of how you got your current injuries – we're blaming that on your current caretakers? All we need now is for them to sign off on the adoption. I've got some contacts at the Ministry of Magic and the muggle Child Services, so when I file these it'll be kept quiet. Now, what other business did we need to cover?"

Harry pulled his threadbare clothing back on, and settled into the soft visitors chair in front of the desk. "As I mentioned before, I'd like to hire one or two adults to appear as caretakers for me in absence of my 'Father'. Given these people will be in close contact with me at all times, they will be privy to many of my personal dealings, alias's, and the like. I am a very suspicious and private person, for obvious reasons, and I do not want to have to replace such intimate staff on a regular basis. Therefore, I need people who will know how to overlook my age and remain professional, are tough enough to stick out the general weirdness that surrounds my life long term, and won't be put off or tempted to sell me out because of my celebrity. If they are able to train me as well that would be a bonus since it would save me having to find additional tutors. Do you know of anyone? I need them as soon as possible. It would also be worth looking into someone who is able to play 'Mr Smith' for those times when his presence is unavoidably required, though that isn't urgent as I'm happy for you to be his avatar for the moment."

Rubbing his upper lip thoughtfully, Bradshaw frowned. "Do you have a particular personality you prefer?"

"Well, I intend to have 'Father' set me up in a relatively affluent lifestyle, so someone who can fit into that world and teach me to do the same would be helpful. But beyond that, as long as they know how to keep their mouth shut and can follow orders then I don't really care." Harry stilled at the knock on the door, and flashed an innocent look at Sally as she stuck her head in to deliver the Healer ordered meal for Harry and a coffee for her boss. She cooed at the tiny boy sitting so properly in the plush chair, completely charmed by his huge green eyes and messy locks. She fussed over him maternally until a pointed cough from her boss reminded her to get back to work. Daintily, Harry started picking at his meal, watching Bradshaw running through his list of contacts and smiling faintly at how often middle aged women fell over themselves to help when he batted his eyelashes.

"Alright, I have two people who might work for you, though they aren't cheap."

Harry waved his fork negligently.

"The first is named Alexander Charleston. Muggleborn, age 46, former British SAS. His parents served on the staff for one of the minor Royal branches before he was orphaned in a Death Eater raid. He would make an excellent body guard and butler for you, since he knows all of that toff etiquette and the like. I'm sure he could tutor you for your basic schooling as well, if you wanted. You did mention home schooling earlier, didn't you?" Bradshaw put the file to the side at Harry's agreeable nod.

"The second, well, I'm not sure how you would feel about him, but given your lifestyle, business, and fame, I think he will be your best bet. Plus he has extensive contacts in just about every social circle and back alley you could find, which I'm sure you would find useful. If you hire him, I hope you'd be willing to let me borrow him on occasion; he's worth his weight in gold, despite his dubious past."

Raising an eyebrow, Harry waited for the lawyer to stop waffling.

"He, ah, ran with the Death Eaters for a while. He wasn't a Marked follower, mind, just a mercenary, but he didn't shy from getting his hands dirty, if you know what I mean. To the best of my knowledge he doesn't subscribe to all that blood purity crap, but I wasn't sure how you would feel hiring someone that was working for the people who killed your parents."

Harry chewed slowly, looking over the file he had liberated from Bradshaw's desk. "Sergei Petrikov; age 60, Russian pureblood, mercenary since graduating Durmstrang Institute in 1946, top of all his classes. Highest scores since Gellert Grindelwald. Hmm, interesting." He took another bite. "As to him working with the Death Eaters, I don't care as long as he isn't going to sell me out. I never knew my parents; I have no particular attachment to their memory." Skimming the rest of the man's impressive resume silently, Harry fought to keep his eyebrows from rising. Petrikov was definitely someone to avoid aggravating at all costs. "You believe both of them would be willing to work for me?"

Taken aback by the cold attitude towards his parents' memory, Bradshaw took a moment to get his mind back on track. "I do. I don't think that you are likely to find anyone else trustworthy enough that will fill your needs at this point in time. I'll keep an eye out for others, of course, but for now I think they are your best bet, and to the best of my knowledge they don't have any other current jobs."

Harry nodded and accepted the copied files. "Alright, hire them for me. I want them as soon as they can make themselves available, though of course they will be required to take a vow of secrecy. I trust you can arrange that? And one for Marcel also; I really should have insisted on that before he left." Harry frowned, irritated with his lack of foresight. "Draw up the employment contracts and offer them whatever you think is a fair wage. They'll be living with me full time and training me in everything they can think of." Harry paused. "And I'll need a new property too, to house them all. My current apartment is only two bedrooms, and I'd rather keep it as a safe house for emergencies. I'll have Marcel share my room, and Charleston and Petrikov will need to share also. Find me a four bedroom house, perhaps in the country or on the outskirts of London. Given that I'll have two adult wizards with me, I doubt that I'll have any trouble getting into London from wherever it happens to be. I'll need a decent amount of land too, and room for training areas and a decent size pool."

Bradshaw frowned. "Are you able to use any of your family properties? I know the Potters had a Manor in Wiltshire that would probably serve your needs. I think it's near the Malfoy estate actually."

Harry shook his head. "I wouldn't know. I know very little about my family, and nothing whatsoever about my family assets. I don't even know if I have any family assets."

Slack jawed, Bradshaw stared. "Mr Potter, your family is one of the wealthiest in wizarding society! If I remember correctly, your wealth is comparable to that of the Malfoys! You're the Heir to at least one Lordship, possibly more. You honestly didn't know?"

Harry shook his head again. "No. But I'll be visiting Gringotts soon. The problem is doing it without drawing unwanted attention. I have my suspicions that someone has been orchestrating my life in a particular direction since my parents were killed, and if so, I don't want them to know that I'm poking around."

Bradshaw sobered quickly. "Do you have any idea who, or to what end?"

Harry nodded. "A guess only at this point, but I believe that Albus Dumbledore is the one who placed me with my current guardians. Considering their antagonism towards me, it's highly likely that he has applied some sort of leverage to force them to keep me in their home; otherwise they would have sent me to an orphanage a long time ago. If that is the case, then I wouldn't be surprised if he has a watch on my accounts at the very least. As to why, I'm assuming that he intended me to be malleable upon my entrance to the wizarding world; too dazzled and overwhelmed to ask the right questions. I suspect that he plans to mould me to be the perfect hero, with him the guiding force behind my actions. It would allow him to use my political influence to his own ends."

Nodding, the older man made a quick note on the pad in front of him. "I'll look into it, and try to find a house for you as well, just in case. Though I'm curious how you worked all that out?"

Placing his empty meal carton on the desk, he sat back and sipped his drink. "I've been reading the books that have been published about me since my parents' death. Oh, before I forget, can you look into who authorised those, and if I have received any royalties? The same for any merchandise that uses my name or image. Anyway, from what I gather, the wizarding world looks to Dumbledore as some sort of god-like hero, and for the most part follow his whims without question. The man holds three positions of power, each of which would be a full time job on its own, but cumulatively allows him almost total control over wizarding society. He controls the education of the children which allows him to shape them to his own belief system; as Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot he controls or at least directs what laws are put in place, and since most of the other members were taught by him or view him as a hero for defeating Grindelwald, that would give him a psychological dominance over a goodly number of them. Add to that being Supreme Mugwump of the ICW, he controls information flow to the international community, meaning that it's highly unlikely that they have an accurate picture of what is happening in Wizarding Britain. Now, my parents were known to be working closely with him to end the war. Suddenly they are killed, and I am being hailed as a hero for stopping the Dark Lord. I can't imagine that a man who has devoted so much time to carefully manoeuvring himself into supreme power and taking credit for leading the war effort would be happy to have his influence and accolades going to someone else, especially not a child. All the books have agreed that the Light was losing the war, and since Dumbledore was their leader, this can't have looked good for him. He has also been the one to repeatedly state that I am being raised in a safe and loving home. How would he know that unless he put me there? Nobody else seems to have any idea where I am."

Bradshaw paled. "And if he can raise you to support him and his agenda, he retains his power and can use you as the fist to crush any opposition. I can see why you are suspicious."

Harry nodded, still sipping his drink slowly. "I have no proof, but it seems plausible to me. It's all in the patterns."

"Patterns, like what Marcel mentioned?"

Harry nodded calmly.

Rubbing his forehead, Bradshaw pondered the theory his youngest client had laid out for him. "I must say, that is extremely well thought out." Feeling slightly faint, he took a drink of water. "Was there anything else you wanted to address today? If you give me a couple of hours I can have Sergei and Alex here, and we can go get your guardians signature on the custody papers by this evening." He determinedly got back to business, thankful that his more casual manner had seemed to amuse the boy rather than put him on edge for not being treated like an adult client. He would do well to remember the carnage the seemingly innocent child had wreaked on his targets just the night before. Despite his cherubic appearance, this was a very dangerous young man, and it would be deadly to forget that for an instant.

Harry pondered. "I think that's it for now. Marcel will be back shortly, I'd imagine. I need to arrange furniture for the flat if we will be living there for a while, though fortunately electricity and the like have already been connected." He closed his eyes and rubbed his head, trying to massage away the headache building behind his yes. His glasses were still the wrong prescription.

"Why don't you let me handle that? I'll send Sally out for you, and the flat will be habitable by close of business today. In the meantime, you can take a nap if you want. I've got a cot in the room behind here, and you're still badly injured. If you'll pardon me saying so, you look exhausted."

Giving in to the pain and fatigue, Harry nodded in grudging agreement. He was shown to a small room off Bradshaw's office, and fell gratefully onto the small bed, barely even bothering to kick off his shoes. He managed to stay awake until Bradshaw had turned off the light and closed the door, but was asleep moments after that. Even his habitual paranoia and suspicion was unable to overrule his body's demands for healing sleep.