LightestReader
patreon
Chapter 63: New Employees
🕑 Added 2025-03-18 22:00:08 +0000 UTC[-]-[P]-[W]-[M]-[-]
Reality: Potter Verse
Little Tree Castle - July 1992
Johnathan Grey
[-]-[P]-[W]-[M]-[-]
The flickering fireplace cast a warm glow across my new lavishly redecorated office. Mahogany walls were lined with towering bookshelves, filled with unnecessarily expensive books on magic and science and fiction I’d hope to get the opportunity to travel to.
Near the window at the far end, I let out a resigned sigh, leaning back slightly in an enchanted office chair behind a grand, ornate desk. The set rested upon a thick, deep crimson Persian rug embroidered with enchanted silver threads, subtly shifting in pattern as though alive. The desk was made of dark oak and adorned with brass candle holders, a self-writing quill of peacock feather, and a crystal inkwell. A sleek, enchanted hourglass with sand flowing upward sat beside a stack of pristine parchment.
Along with the large, curved windows draped in grey velvet curtains to allow for a breathtaking view of the renovated castle grounds, it also had the same enchanted ceiling Hogwarts had, which would show the night sky during the evening. Honestly, the elves, Agnes, and Perenell outdid themselves on this one. The office looked brilliant, and so large it could fit a few couches around a table off to the side.
The only thing it was missing now was probably a few portraits on the walls to whisper and gossip while meetings were being held. And this was only one of my offices, the other offices and rooms were also just as well decorated as this. It was a good thing too — if it were up to me, everything would be ‘practical but bland’ if Perenell was to be believed.
I let out another resigned sigh as my eyes flickered toward Nicolas, standing just behind my chair on the right in a rigid and formal posture, exuding the air of a well-trained butler.
“Like I said before, you don’t need to behave like a butler in exchange for learning alchemy. I’d have taught you anyway,” I muttered, lightly rubbing my temple. We originally started my apprenticeship with him testing my knowledge, then when he had his little cry about not having much to teach me, he started teaching me some tips as tricks he picked up over the centuries. That was when I started showing him some of my knowledge as well, or rather, other people’s knowledge — mainly the Potions and Alchemy from the Witcher verse.
Somehow, after he and his wife started our back and forth knowledge exchange sessions, tweaking, adding to, and improving our skills, I started being the one apprenticing them once I learned everything they could provide. Something that, once again, had me deadpanning the couple as I watched them cry like newborn babies. Until they got the bright idea to repay me.
Now what do you give someone like me who either has everything he wants or can get it with the ridiculous amount of SP he has saved up? Well, apparently, it was a few overqualified employees.
A wide smile spread across Nicolas’s face as he proudly puffed out his chest in his new immaculate and precisely tailored, black tailcoat, worn over a crisp white dress shirt with a perfectly starched collar. Along with that, he had a black waistcoat and a neatly tied bow tie with pressed black trousers, polished leather shoes, and white gloves. All enchanted for almost every occasion.
Honestly, I was blaming myself for introducing him to the Batman comics when I was populating the bookshelf. He even went out of his way to copy the fictional man’s moustache. Thankfully, his wife stopped him from shaving the top of his head in an attempt to fully emulate Bruce's trusty aid.
“Well, you’re a victim of your own success, sir,” he declared professionally. “You declined payment of any kind — so we’re merely earning our keep. Good, honourable mages, at your service, sir.”
From my left, his wife let out a soft chuckle as she shook her head. “He’s right, you know,” she added in a tone that poorly hid her amusement. It’s been centuries since we actually worked for a living — it can’t be good for the body or the mind. This, good sir, is a remarkable attempt to help the elderly.” She sighed dramatically, adjusting the modest office attire she had chosen to wear. Then, with an exaggerated tone of disappointment, she added, “And it’s such a shame that Poppy declined my offer to be a maid.”
Now that was funny to see. The happy-to-help Elf had laid into her about trying to take her position and how crap she was at the job so much that Perenel had never brought it up again. The only way they soothed their relationship was by collaborating on the decorations of the rooms in the castle, with Poopy doing all the manual labour, cleaning and heavy lifting etc, while Perenell suggested the design and made the enchantments.
Unlike her husband, she ended up going with the personal assistant position that was apparently vacant, or as I said when she brought it up — nonexistent. She now wore a white, well-fitted button-up shirt underneath a black blazer, along with tailored trousers and heels. I was a little surprised they didn’t just go with robes at first, but I just considered it another attempt to get in my good graces as I’m muggle-born.
I opened his mouth to reply, but I sensed my guest approaching the door. “Come in, Agnes,” I said, just before she could knock on the door.
The door swung open, revealing Agnes, whose presence instantly caused the Enchanted curtains on the windows to close, protecting her from the sun’s rays. She smiled politely as she stepped inside with her usual vampire’s grace, with a well-dressed Zorinn following behind.
“Ah, Lord Grey,” Zorinn greeted heartily, stepping past the undead caretaker as she moved aside to let him through.
I rose from my desk, closing the distance between us before extending a hand. “I hope you and your people are well,” I said, clasping the Dwarf’s firm grip with a polite smile.
“All is well, my friend.” Zorinn nodded with a smile. “Even better than well, even. That’s why I’m here.”
“I can’t wait to hear all about it,” I gestured toward the arrangement of couches around a polished oak table off to the side, leading the Dwarf over while thanking the leaving Agnes with a gesture for leading him here. While this office wasn’t my favourite, it was rather useful for meetings with a small group of people if I didn’t want it to be done from one end of an office desk to another, while not being too formal like a conference room.
As Zorinn and I took our seats, his sharp Dwarven-warrior gaze flickered toward the well-dressed Flamels flanking my seat, giving them a nod in greeting and nothing else. He had gotten used to the old couple’s presence around me the last few months by now, so it was almost expected to see them here.
“While not including decorations, the bank is now completely built and ready for the enhanced Wards you mentioned a few weeks ago.” Zorinn started with pride, leaning forward slightly in his seat. “Additionally, the invitations for the grand opening are ready to be sent out — not just to all current Gringotts customers in the United Kingdom, but also to Muggle-born witches and wizards who have been banking in the Muggle world. And we are also looking for good areas to build branches around the world — we will let you know once the locations have been finalised.”
John nodded in acknowledgement with a hum, tapping my fingers against the armrest. “And the newly installed train tracks?” I asked. “Are they being used fine? The Muggleborns and their parents need a reliable way to get here if they can’t apparate yet.”
“Working perfectly.” Zorinn leaned back. “Wizards and Witches have already begun using it to get a better look at the place for future Apparition — they’ve been renting rooms and buildings in Littletree Village. While I wouldn’t say business is booming just yet, there have been no complaints.”
That would be the refurbished stores and apartment complex I had created a few weeks ago — all Enchanted to be larger on the inside. While I was a little surprised the Flamels were able to get tenants already without a single ad, I wasn’t complaining.
“Good to hear,” I said as a small, satisfied smile made its way to my lips. “I also plan to host a ball possibly during the Yule break with a lot of potential clients in attendance. The Dwarves, of course, will be invited, but it’s not confirmed yet.”
It was a suggestion for the Flamels to get the incompetent Minister out of office, and I honestly couldn’t think of a reason against it. They had also mentioned something like a Magical university, which I was okay with, but wanted to actually see the world before I started delving into something like that. Even then, I may have been teaching my new employees Alchemy and potions of the Witcher verse, but I had yet to show them anything else, including Dragon Silver.
“A wise decision,” the Dwarf said, nodding thoughtfully. “We will be ready to mingle with the attendees — there is much to gain from such a gathering.”
Satisfied with that response, I raised a hand, summoning an enchanted pouch from the [Hoard] and casually tossed it toward Zorinn, who caught it effortlessly. “The next batch of silverware, all done.”
Zorinn let out a pleased grunt, placing the pouch inside his coat pocket without even checking the contents. In return, he retrieved an identical enchanted pouch from his blazer pocket, tossing it for me to catch the same way. “Payment for the previous batch. The parchment inside shows exactly who it's from and when the payments were made, as always.”
Opening the pouch, I ignored the gleam of Galleons inside as summoned the parchments, letting my eyes scan the contents with a raised eyebrow at the sheer amount of zeros on the page. “Damn, did you increase their prices?” I asked the Dwarf leader.
“Indeed,” Zorinn said cheerfully with a smile, chest puffing out every so slightly. “Basic economics — supply and demand and all that. They were happy to pay it too, and even if they weren’t, others would be. It wasn’t like the elves were giving them a better deal.” he laughed, boisterously.
With an amused shake of my head, I placed the pouch and parchment in the [Hoard] and we made our way to the Bank, where I got started on the Wards.
The bank itself, unlike most of the Wizarding world, didn't look like it was about to fall over due to poor planning. It was a tall and stately, twentieth-century, muggle-looking building with different shades of grey marble. The large ornate entrance led to a cavernous great hall with high vaulted ceilings, glowing chandeliers, and walls adorned with engravings of different magical creatures.
Beyond that were corridors leading to meeting, conference, and ritual rooms, along with the large vaults underneath. If anything, the vaults and tunnels hidden beneath took up more space than the bank above.
As I worked, the Flamels started talking about the vault of their own which Zorinn had promised, something Zorinn was more than happy to discuss. The opportunity to steal one of Gringotts’ most wealthy customers was not something he was about to pass up. Soon enough, Perenelle was giving the Dwarf leader decoration advice to appeal to humans and Zorinn was taking notes.
[-]-[P]-[W]-[M]-[-]
12 Grimmauld Place
[-]-[P]-[W]-[M]-[-]
With a sharp crack, Sirius Black and Harry Potter Apparated right in front of the old family home of House Black's doorstep. The moment they landed, Harry stumbled slightly, pressing a hand on his stomach as it twisted uncomfortably from the sudden shift in space.
“Ugh…” he groaned as he placed his free hand on his knee for support. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that.”
Sirius chuckled as he clapped his godson on the back. “Don’t say that, pup. You get used to it in no time. Won’t need to use a train again after that. Well, unless you want to get an idea of where you’re going first.” He shrugged, spreading his arms with a mock-dramatic flourish, “Anyway, welcome back, to the ancestral home of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black.”
Still recovering from the magical transportation, Harry muttered, “You know, you don’t need to keep doing that every time I come here right?”
“Oh, it’s delightful,” Sirius continued with a smirk, ignoring his godson’s comment. “Full of dark magic, a deranged house-elf, and a portrait of my mother who enjoys screaming at every, single, person, that she sees.”
Harry shook his head with a small smile, finally shaking off the residual nausea, walking toward the front door with his godfather. Just as Sirius reached for the handle — the door swung open, revealing an excited Remus at the entrance, or, as excited as Remus could be when he wasn’t feeling bad about something and keeping it to himself. “Harry!”
Before Harry could react, Remus stepped forward and engulfed him in a hug, lifting the boy up for a mid-air shake.
“Good to see you again, Remus,” Harry said as he hugged the werewolf back.
Remus huffed a quiet laugh as he placed the boy back down, stepping back.
“Right,” Sirius clapped his hands together. “Let’s get inside and let the pup settle in before we wake up the portrait of the banshee.”
Remus and Harry both visibly winced as Remus stepped aside to let them in. As Sirius set Harry’s trunk down near the staircase, he gave the boy an expectant look. “Go on and freshen up,” he instructed. “We’re having guests over for dinner, remember.”
At the reminder of the the coming guests, the chosen one’s face lit up, giving his godfather an enthusiastic nod before rushing up the stairs toward his room — regulus’ old room. As his footsteps disappeared, Sirius let out a soft sigh and turned toward the gloomy living room, where Remus had already made his way over to the armchairs near the fireplace.
Putting aside the thoughts of redecorating the place at some point, Sirius sat down heavily in his own chair, stretching his tired legs out with a tired groan. The training regime he was on may no longer be necessary to get back to good health and regain lost muscle, but it was damn good for his head.
Raising his hand slightly, the Lord of the house bellowed. “Kreacher!”
A soft pop echoed through the room as the aged, withered house-elf appeared at his side, with his usual gnarled, hunched appearance as his large, bloodshot eyes filled with disdain found his master’s eyes.
“What does the mudblood-loving, traitorous master wish of Kreacher?” the elf sneered. His skin was just as wrinkled and sagging as the last Sirius remembered summoning him, almost resembling parchment stretched too thin, giving him a frail yet oddly resilient look. Sirius had done his best to give the elf long jobs to do, in locations or during certain hours that would allow them to go without seeing each other for weeks at a time, and yet again, he was reminded why.
Sirius sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I want you to make sure a healthy dinner is ready and immaculate. We will have some guests, and you need to make sure they get the best,” he said, before deciding to add an extra tibit to make sure the elf didn’t actively spend time trying to find loopholes. “I don’t want any mistakes — it would not do well to have others besmirch House Black due to your lack of effort and skill. And take Harry's luggage to his room.”
For a moment, Kreacher paused and looked concerned at the thought of someone disrespecting the Ancient House, before his sneer returned even deeper with a matching accusatory look toward his master as if to say, ‘You’re one to talk’. Regardless, he bowed his head, letting his large, bat-like ears droop even more than usual to the sides of his head. “The traitor master makes many orders, but Kreacher obeys… for now.”
With another pop, the sunken and dull elf carrying a mix of resentment, exhaustion, and reluctant loyalty was gone. While Sirius may not like the creature, he could tell when he was happy. And this was definitely one of those moment. Sirius couldn’t figure it out for the life of him, especially considering that John is muggle-born. The elf wasn’t kind to his godson — and the boy was a half-blood, so the excitement the elf was trying to hide was a little unsettling.
Sirius let out a grumble, running a hand through his hair. “Merlin, I don’t trust that elf. My instincts are telling me he’s up to something — more than usual, that is.”
Remus, who had just finished pouring them both a drink, handed Sirius a glass and settled into his own chair. “You know,” he said conversationally, “we could always order dinner from Diagon Alley or even a Muggle restaurant. John won’t mind. At least that’s the vibe I got from Harry and our brief meeting on the platform anyway.”
Sirius took a long sip from his glass, ignoring his desire to ask for alcohol instead of the ginger beer shite Remus was constantly forcing onto him before shaking his head. “Nah. I’d rather keep him busy,” he muttered. “A bored house-elf that wants to kill you is never good for one’s health. Best to constantly order him to do things that at least benefit the House, or I could just release him — but he’d just go tell people house secrets to spite me… the cunt.”
“Can’t argue with that.” Remus snorted, taking a sip of his own drink with an amused smile. “You thinking of going around with John to give Harry someone to enjoy his summer with? I know he may be in some meeting or studying and such — with the bank and apprenticeship. But when he’s travelling, we could meet up with him from time to time so Harry’s not lonely.”
“Yeah, I thought about that,” Sirius nodded, slouching further into his seat as he put his feet on the table. “We’ll just have to see where he’s going first. If he says anything about a beach, then the immediate answer is a resounding ‘yes’. But if we can’t convince him ut of being stuck indoors all day, then we might have to make our own plans and just meet him during Harry’s birthday gathering.”
For a moment, Sirius paused, looking at his drink intently, before slowly turning to Remus. “You already got the food from Diagon Alley and the muggle shops just in case Krecher bollocked-it-up, didn’t you?” He accused without any real heat. “We were out of ginger beer before I left to pick Harry up.”
“There is nothing wrong with planning for a worst-case,” Remus defended. “Also, I had nothing else to do aside from entertaining a painting and elf duo who hate my guts.”
“And that was why you told me to pick Harry up without you,” Sirius concluded with an acknowledging nod. “Well played.”
With that, they settled into their chairs and continued to talk, waiting for their guests to arrive and the pup to make his way back down for dinner.
[-]-[P]-[W]-[M]-[-]
“Master Sirius ran away, good riddance, for he was a bad boy and broke my Mistress's heart with his lawless ways.”
—Kreacher
[-]-[P]-[W]-[M]-[-]
Hello There
Serious doesn’t know how right he is to distrust Kreacher.
Kreacher’s cooking something — in more ways than one.
[-]-[P]-[W]-[M]-[-]
Disclaimer: I own nothing except my OC and original ideas. All credit goes to their respective owners.
[-]-[P]-[W]-[M]-[-]
Thank you for reading.
As always, stay awesome.
Until next time, Light's out.
Comments
Lightest_Reader
He might. But there isn't much of a reason to, thier Elixir has them looking like thir in their 40s.
Holosagewolf
Will john restore the flamels youth?
