A/N2: Ok, ok, no more bad French. The first 3 hours Chapter 30 is up, I get 26 emails complaining about the French. The ‘Last Time’ section has the English version. English as in English, not the ‘faux-French’ that most people (including me) have pouring out of Fleur’s mouth. Come on People, Babelfish is your friend!
Last time on The Power He has Not:
“Fleur? Fleur Delacour?
“Weasley now, I’ve married.”
“Thank you. We were looking for a Death Eater to wring information out of, imagine my surprise when I find the one they bring me to be an old classmate.”
“I will tell you nothing.”
“I don’t mind. I don’t mind at all. The real reason I volunteered for this it for the chance to thank random Death Eaters for how my fiancé was hurt. Do you recall ‘Relations with Magical Beings’ with Mrs. Trouseau?”
“I believe so.”
“Do you recall why one should never harm a Veela’s Mate?”
Andre’s eyes widened as panic set in.
“You cannot do this, you cannot!”
“You join the monster that hurt my Bill? Silly boy, of course I can.”
The screams were horrible. Not for the first time Bill Weasley resolved to never under any circumstance make his lovely wife angry.
Harry Potter and the Power He Has Not.
Chapter 31 – Countdown
“Leeblit squad finishes it’s training today. Your squad has achieved some of the highest scores in recent memory, despite having a coddled human among you.” Baglock paused to down another tankard. Goblin ceremonies tended to be drinking binges, and this one had already been going on for 6 hours.
Harry sat up, forcing himself to focus. Damn, this Goblin ale is good stuff! “Coddled Weakling Human, right here!”
“Shut UP Boy!” Baglock wheeled on him. “No one who can score on me using blades is a WEAKLING.” And he started in on another drink.
“Sorry War Master. Just Coddled Human then.”
“Damned right. It’s not your fault. You’re only a Human. You would have made a great Goblin. An ugly one, but a great one.” The War Master was thoroughly in the bag. “So we’re gonna fix that. Slorhook, do your presentation, before none of us can stand to talk.”
Slorhook stood. “Squad to attention!”
Leeblit squad stood rigidly.
“One of our number has distinguished himself. He is weak. He is slow. He has no stamina. He IS good with blades, but his most significant ability is the inability to quit. Even when captured, the sneaky little bastard still managed to steal a blade and free himself and his squad while Chitxox Squad were squawking among themselves. It is directly due to his actions that all of the members of this squad have been enriched to the levels of the ruling Banking Guild instead of the pittance normally allotted to the Security Guild. This enrichment will only continue, as the Epic adaptation of the book “Leeblit Squad and the Quest for the Crystal” is performing well in theaters all over the Goblin Nation despite the fact that the mincing actor they have playing me is no where near handsome enough. The War Master and I have discussed this at length, and have decided that the Goblin Security Guild must NEVER owe a debt to a Human, so the solution is to make him a Goblin.”
“Harry Potter. Slikmor is no more, that was your training name, and you are training no longer. I would invite you to join my family, Clan of Gleellop. Be my Brother, Brother to my sister, so that she’ll stop sniffing around you.” Lorath threw a tankard at his head, that he dodged “Be my father’s adopted son, so that he might expunge the debt he feels he owes you for how he treated you before he saw your worth. Join us.”
Harry blinked. “Thank you Squad Leader, War Master, Healer Lorath. I am not worthy of this honor. I have responsibilities among my own kind.”
“I decide who is worthy Potter, not you.” Baglock thundered, and then his tone softened. “Your responsibilities would not be affected by joining us, you would not lose, only gain allies. We all want this.”
What to do, what to do, what to do. “I thank you again War Master. I accept your generous offer.”
“Then as of this day, your family name is Pledtor.” Baglock slammed down another tankard of ale. “I do believe we’ve just written the sequel to the movie…” He extended a sword to Harry. “This is for you. For a Goblin Warrior it would be a very short sword, for you, it is a dealer of death. Use it on that lunatic Dark Lord of yours. Take solace in this. If you fall in Battle, his fight with you becomes a fight with the entire Goblin Nation. We will destroy him for you, no charge.”
“Thank you War Master.”
“And this is from your squad mates” Slorhook held up a human sized suit of Goblin mail. “It is magic free, and will turn most blades with no damage to the mail. Wear it when you kill your lunatic.”
“Thank you all. I only wish…”
“Shut up and get to drinking Pledtor. You’re behind, and the next round is on you.”
Harry tossed a handful of Galleons on the bar, and took another tankard for himself.
“Welcome to the family little Brother.” Lorath looked at him in that amused way of hers.
“Thank you. Pledtor?”
“Ple means ‘beaten, but not broken’, dtor means ‘user of blades’.”
Harry considered his next words. “I made an impression I take it?”
“Hmm. The proceeds from the Book and movie do not hurt. Security Guild is profiting from your association with them. I’ve been asking around, as far as the Goblin Nation is concerned, where ever you go, it rains gold on Goblins.”
“I’m nothing special.”
“I believe the fact that you are the first Human adopted into the Goblin Nation for 8 centuries shows the lie of that statement.” She smiled at him. “I’m going to have to learn to live with a troublesome little brother.”
“I was glad I could catch you before you left Mr. Potter.”
“Thank you Bank Manager. So it’s done then?”
“It is Mr. Potter. These are the remotes you asked for. Completely muggle, no magic involved at all. Operation is simple, this switch turns it on, this switch readies the device, and this button is the trigger.”
“Thank you Bank Manager. I cannot thank you enough for the help you have extended me.”
“The least I could do for the adopted son of my younger brother.” Ragnak smiled at the look of surprise. “You didn’t know? Everyone usually comments on how we share the eyes of our mother.”
“I’m sure you do, someday I hope to meet the rest of the family. Any news on your bet?”
“Oh yes, the odds have improved.”
“200 to one now.”
Harry choked. “I thought you said the odds improved.”
“Improved in the payout. If you win, I will get a healthy return for my 15”
“You bet 15 Galleons on me?”
“You need to learn more about banking young nephew. I would never bother with a 10 galleon bet. Or a 10 thousand galleon bet. I bet 10 million Galleons on you winning at 100 to one. And an additional 5 million Galleons when he upped his odds to 200 to one. If you win, even if you die, you will single handedly allow me to destroy the liquid assets of my competitor in Zurich. I’ve never cared for Gnomes, no business sense.”
The Daily Prophet:
“I’m not printing this. It would be insanity.”
“Mr. Titus, this is my public statement to Voldemort. It is news. You are supposedly the editor of a News Paper.”
“It isn’t going to happen Mr. Potter.”
“I believe it is Mr. Titus.” He handed the older man a file. “These documents will tell you that I have just yesterday, in conjunction with Gringotts, acquired a controlling interest in the Prophet. Either you print this, exactly as I have written it, or I will be hiring someone who will. I am a very good friend of Luna Lovegood; I don’t believe it would take her long to talk her father into stepping into your shoes to run this paper.”
“You can’t do this. I’ve been the editor of this paper for 20 years.”
“And in those 20 years, published stories that alternatively lionized me, and drug me through the mud. You should not annoy people with the capability of buying your job out from under you. Just this once, the Daily Prophet will tell the story I want told, and tell it the way I want to tell it.” He took a scrap of parchment and made a quick note. “This is your banner headline tomorrow. Disappoint me and you will be lucky to be judging Witch Weekly’s Best Smile contest.”