Harry Potter Squib Tales Chapter 86: Moving On (Patreon)

Chapter 86: Moving On

“And that’s the last of them,” I huffed, my wrist sore as I put my pen down, before moving the file I’d just signed to a growing pile in the OUT box on my desk.

‘For now,’ a traitorous part of my brain told me, and I grunted, unable to deny that as I glanced at the IN box that was currently empty, but which I knew would soon be full again.

The last three days had been busy for me, as it had seen a steady trickle of Rwandan refugees being Portkeyed into my warehouses which I naturally had to discretely deal with.

Obviously, most couldn’t just leave. Not right away. It took time for normal people to travel anywhere, even with the fastest planes. So naturally people would be suspicious if a bunch of Rwandan refugees appeared in London mere hours after the genocide began.

For now, they were being dosed with a potent Draught of Living Death and Transfigured into miniature statues of themselves for safe keeping. When it was time, I’d turn them back to normal, fiddle with memories so they imagined they’d come in on a ship, one of my own Waverider cargo vessels that ‘happened’ to be in Africa at the time to be precise, and then they would be the government’s problem.

Well, okay, I was definitely going to be helping them settle in and wouldn’t leave them to the wolves. I’d get them passports, visas and jobs if need be, help them avoid being taken advantage of and make sure they didn’t slip through cracks and get treated as illegals.

Some, like the Prime Minister’s family, and the families of the other Rwandan government officials, were already in London, as they were important enough people that it wouldn’t be hard to alter some paperwork to make it look like they’d fled via airplane out of the country and modified some memories to make them think just that.

Right now, they’d been granted asylum in England by the Queen herself, but for the rest of the people currently in my warehouses (and still coming in every so often) they’d need a bit more of a cover story before I could release them.

Add in the Foreign Affairs Minister of Rwanda who’d be acting like an ambassador to the UK, and the Rwandans would be able to get some help.

‘Going to have to pull heavily on my newly acquired fortunes to get it all done without issue,’ I thought with a faint grimace. A week later and Sir Briar had yet to display any disobedience to me, though I did not want to push it. Drugging him with potions only went so far.

‘I’ll have to frame it in a way that makes him want to take in several thousand refugees. Good publicity on the surface, but beneath that, access to cheap labor? Yeah, he’d probably go for that,’ I mused.

At least Inky and the other House Elves were having a blast. They loved having things to do, and boy were there a lot of them!

Since I now secretly controlled one of the largest investment firms in the world, I had a lot of new property to go over. The House Elves were busy sorting through most of it, but there was also paperwork galore for me.

Apparently, suddenly being put into the will of one of England’s wealthiest men sent shockwaves through the business world and generated a bunch of documents to be signed, notarized, and so on. Who knew?

All the people who’d thought I would fall prey to Sir Briar and be left with nothing had pulled out of my companies, allowing me to buy the shares back for myself, were now left reeling. Those who had stuck by me were smug as bugs in a rug, and the news that I was now the prickly old bastard’s sole heir had people circling me again, but for a whole bunch of new reasons.

They wanted to be my ‘friend’ now that it was clear I was going places other than the poorhouse, and yes, it was painfully obvious to me that this was what they wanted.

I didn’t outright refuse any of them, though. Couldn’t really afford to make enemies like that, not so soon after my plan went off without a hitch, but once I was more secure and my powerbase more sturdy, I’d be able to sort out who was a true friend, and who needed to be made an example of.

‘And speaking of friends, I need to send a gift basket to Delilah’s mom for helping me out with her husband.'

After Mr. Hunt learned I’d become Sir Briar’s heir, he had very nearly broken ties with me and forced me to break up with Delilah. His hate for the old man ran so deep he’d have ruined our business relationship – and the relationship between me and his daughter.

Thank God and Merlin Mrs. Hunt knew just what to say to convince him otherwise. I wasn’t entirely sure what it had been, but knowing the man, it was probably something about using me to take over Sir Briar’s businesses and ruining his legacy by having me do so as proxy.

So, good news: I still had a girlfriend. Better news: said girlfriend had finished her experiments and was now confident she could upscale her magical hydro-electric generator to a size capable of sustaining our own energy needs.

‘She is surprisingly good at engineering. I wonder if she missed her calling,’ I mused. Delilah was attending business school because of her father, but I could tell her true skill lay in designing and building things. ‘Maybe I should pass her the other projects I’ve been working on, see if she could find a way to building some of the magic using machines I wanted to incorporate into my new holdings.’

Of course, that would have to wait, as a clock began to ring gently, announcing it was almost time for me to leave for an important meeting.

I stood up, stretching a little as I did, and put on my suit’s jacket and straightened my tie, before taking a rubber duck out of a briefcase.

“The Grass is Greener on the Other Side,” I declared, and the duck-shaped Portkey whisked me away to America.

The magical transportation dropped me off on the roof of a building, and I squinted a bit as the bright noon sun beamed down on me. I made my way off the roof and down a couple floors, before opening a door to an office.

“Good afternoon,” I said politely to the witch sitting behind a desk. “I’m Edward Rose, here to speak with Carmichael Bluegrass.”

“Yes, sir, of course,” the secretary said politely, typing something into her typewriter before pulling out some documents. “He will see you now.”

I tipped my hat to her in thanks and walked on through, heading deeper into the office, fighting to keep a smile off my face at the name of the Greengrass’s branch family.

Today, I was not in New Orleans, but rather New York City, specifically a building located within the magical district of the city. Here, some of the companies that did business in the MaCUSA had offices, and one of these was for the Greengrass family owned Greengrass Sundries.

It was run by a branch family of the UK based Greengrasses, the amusingly named Bluegrasses, and I was meeting with Cyrus’ cousin. The main thing was to discuss a deal that would let Avalon Industries take our first steps into both the magical and mundane markets of the New World.

I wanted warehouses and farmland. I needed access to docks, shipping yards, and the Panama Canal, as well as space to build magi-tech factories and alchemical recycling facilities.

I sought to set up ranches and greenhouses for producing magical ingredients. I desired to expand across North America and make my products and services household names, used by everyone and anyone regardless of their magical status.

Of course, that was all going to take a lot of time and effort to obtain. Odds were I wouldn’t be able to get any of this in the first meeting. But I had a good feeling about it all the same. My Rune Dice had given me very positive readings on Carmichael Bluegrass, and a foot in the door here would led to more doors opening in the future.

And speaking of meetings, I came to stop in front of a door and knocked on it, a spell causing it to swing open. Taking the invitation, I stepped inside and spared a quick glance about.

The office was a bit bigger than the waiting room out front, and had a very Old World style to it, with rich wood paneling and furnishings, and plenty of decorations that looked like they came straight out of a catalog catering to Old Money families.

However, the man behind the big solid oak desk was definitely not what somebody would expect when they saw the office.

Carmichael Bluegrass was in his late forties and was dressed like a stereotypical American as portrayed by European media: big white cowboy hat, real leather cowboy boots with golden spurs kicked up on top of the desk, leather chap pants over a pair of blue jeans, and a white button-up Western wear shirt that had a white leather jacket thrown over the back of his chair. Last but certainly not least, a snakeskin belt with a big golden buckle.

“Howdy,” he said in a thick Texan accent with an amused grin as I stared at him.

“Howdy,” I said back, still stunned by his appearance. How exactly was this man related to Cyrus Greengrass, the prim and proper Pureblood?

But then I realized! He was doing a bit! Playing a role!

“Oh, you almost got me, Mister Carmichael Bluegrass,” I told him. “How many Pureblood businessmen and women fall prey to your little trick?”

He snorted and took his feet off his desk and his grin became smug. “So many,” he replied. “They all see me and think I’m a chump. Then I rob ‘em blind while they think they got the better deal.”

“Bloody brilliant is what that is,” I said, genuine praise coloring my voice. “I’ve done the same, you know. They always underestimate me because of my age.”

“No doubt,” Carmichael said. “I’m surprised at how young you actually are. When Cyrus told me about you, well, I knew you were younger, but not that much!”

I snorted. “I am a bit of an anomaly. But we’re not here to talk about how amazing I am. Let us get down to the brass tacks.”

I sat down across from him, and the businessman nodded. “I understand you are looking to acquire land here in the States. You want to spread your wings, and for that, you need space. You are working closely with my cousin and have helped him, so I am willing to act as an intermediary between you and the real estate companies. What exactly are you looking for? What do you want?”

“I have a long list,” I informed him, and took a thick sheaf of paper from my business briefcase. It contained all of the requirements my different businesses would need. Warehouses, factories, office spaces, the works.

Carmichael took it, raising an eyebrow as he took in the size. “Why don’t you give me a summary?”

“I need a lot of everything,” I said simply. “But for the purposes of this meeting, I’ll only bring up two things: buying land and buildings to construct the facilities I wish to use, and investing into the Greengrass ingredient business here in America.”

“For the latter, I have no issues. You’ll need to bring it up with Cyrus, though. The former, however, I have some questions. What sort of buildings? How much space? And where?” Carmichael inquired.

I told him. The amount of square footage I desired, as well as the number of warehouses, buildings, and the locations for them, had Carmichael staring at me in disbelief.

“I was under the impression you were in the potion business,” the distant member of the Greengrass family said slowly. “What in Merlin’s name do you need so many warehouses near docks for? Or the different zoning permits for off-the-grid power sources?”

“Cauldron Remedies is but one of my businesses. I have expanded, and have shipping concerns, stakes in real estate, and waste disposal services. To say nothing of the other industries I am working on getting into.”

“I see,” Carmichael muttered. He was looking at me differently now. Before, he had given me respect due to my connection with his cousin. Now, though, he saw me as a legitimate businessman.

“Regarding investment opportunities with House Greengrass, I would like to focus on the agricultural and magical ingredient markets,” I continued. “So, we’ll need to construct farms and greenhouses, and some factories to help process everything will also be needed.”

“On that, I fully agree,” he told me. “We have a few spots like that already set up in Texas, Louisiana, and Pennsylvania, but they’re old and haven’t been expanded in a long time.”

He paused, and gave me a curious look.

“You know, I’ve tried for years to convince my cousin to invest more over here, and yet only after getting into business with you did he change his mind,” Carmichael said, shaking his head in wonder. “How’d you do it?”

“We both share the same goal,” I replied.

“And what exactly is your goal?” Carmichael inquired curiously, leaning forward in his seat.

“Money. Or, rather, the power that comes from money. I see clearly that the world is changing. That magic has much to gain by mixing with the mundane,” I explained. “Cyrus can see the same thing.”

“Hmm, I think I understand,” the branch member of House Greengrass murmured. “But that can’t be all. What else are you up to?”

“I’m just preparing for the day that we cannot hide anymore,” I stated, and at that Carmichael sat up straighter.

“What do you mean by that?” he demanded suspiciously.

“Mr. Bluegrass, you are no fool. After all, you backed the revolutionary forces when, by all rights, you should have backed the Purebloods due to your connections back in Europe. And I believe you did so because you can read the writing on the wall. Surely you can see how quickly the technology of the mundane side has progressed?” I inquired. “You aren’t like the Purebloods overseas. You’ve lived here your whole life, and you don’t spend all your time hiding away in the magical enclaves.”

“You’re talking about Breach Theory,” he said, all but hissing it out.

“Is that what you call it here?” I hummed. “Not a bad name for it. I’ve been referring to it as the Unveiling. But yes. I’m a dab hand at Arithmancy and Divination, and I predict in a mere decade or so that there will be evidence of magic circulating on the internet. People will take pictures of us. Videos. And through sheer numbers some will slip through. We cannot contain every instance. There simply aren’t enough Obliviators in the world! The mundane people will see through our wards, and the Purebloods running the ICW member states will not act until it is too late.”

“Cyrus did not seem to believe in it…” Carmichael muttered.

“He might not. He just sees the chance for profits in an untapped market. But I do see, Mr. Bluegrass. And that is what I am doing. Buying. Selling. And creating, all so I can control things when it does come to light,” I explained.

I waved a hand. “If we do not act now, then super-massive mundane corporations will swoop in once they know about magic. They will try to buy up magical resources without understanding it. They’ll try to exploit it. And in doing so, strangle it to death. But! These corporations cannot act if there is already somebody who own most of the important things. They might be able to muscle out mom and pop shops or small, independently owned farms and ranches, but not a financial juggernaut like Avalon Industries will become, or what Gladstone Financial currently is.”

“That…” he stammered. “That is rather… ambitious.”

“It is. But it is necessary,” I claimed. “We have at least ten years to establish trade unions, worker’s unions, environmental conservation efforts, and to set-up laws and regulations for the purchase and sale of magical resources. We must unite the small farms and shops into co-ops so they can weather the might of the mega-corps, ensure we set good and proper precedent on how magical goods can be used, made, and sold, and create limits on how much we take so we do not abuse or deplete the gifts of magic. Otherwise, the magical world will be snuffed out and consumed by the mundane.”

I spread my arms wide. “And to that end, we need money and power. Both to set up everything, but also to influence politicians and government officials to see things our way, within both the magical and mundane communities. That way, we will be able to ensure the two sides can eventually learn to coexist.”

Carmichael sat there, staring at me with wide eyes.

“You… are you sure you’re only twenty?” he asked incredulously.

“I’ve had a lot of time to think about this,” I replied with a tiny smirk, before becoming more somber. “Now that you know what my ultimate desires are for the future, what do you say? Shall we work together?”

“I think so,” Carmichael nodded. “I certainly see why Cyrus has such respect for you.”

“I’m glad he thinks so highly of me,” I commented, somewhat flattered.

“Hm. Indeed. Well, I shall look over your… proposals and see how I can best help you,” Carmichael said, glancing at the thick booklet full of numbers and data I’d given him. “I may have to bring in other specialists, though.”

“That’s fine, so long as they can get things done,” I replied easily.

Carmichael nodded, looking a little relieved, and he bobbed his head. “Now, was there anything else?”

I shook my head, and he offered me his hand to shake. He had a firm grasp, and when he let go, he seemed invigorated.

“Haven’t had a chance to stretch my legs like this in a while,” he claimed as he picked up my documents. “I’ll get back to you on this.”

“The contact information is included within, on page two,” I let him know.

When he flipped to that page, his eyes widened. “I… is this address…”

“Yes, it’s the Ruby Manor,” I confirmed.

“How did you get your hands on the Flamel’s estate?” Carmichael demanded in disbelief.

“I met them once. They were very impressed with my drive and ideas,” I replied dryly, a smirk slipping onto my face.

He stared at me, before shaking his head. “Well, if I wasn’t convinced you were a man of mystery and importance before, this certainly would have.”

He then offered me a hand to shake once more, and I took it. We shook on the deal we’d be working on together, and I had a feeling I’d made a new ally in my mission to save the world.

111 &&& 111

After my successful meeting with Mr. Bluegrass and having Sir Briar on my side, I expected things to be relatively smooth sailing for the foreseeable future.

I should have known that things would change, though. I can’t have nice things.

“Alright, explain to me why I have to wake up so early on a Monday?” I requested, raising my mug of black tea to my lips. I only drank the stuff when I needed to wake up, and having a meeting with Merula Snype at six fifteen in the morning was not something easy to do.

I was sitting across from Merula in her office at the Potion Research Warehouse, and she fidgeted at her desk.

“It’s two things, I’m afraid,” Merula said with a grimace. “First off is something that’s annoying but can thankfully be fixed with money.”

“Is it an issue with the equipment?” I inquired.

“Yup. The potion vats are troublesome to clean. A Scourgify or two makes cauldrons good to go, and the really tough stains and potion messed can get Vanished, but these vats are too big and need a lot of heavy duty spellwork to full cleanse,” Merula said. “It hasn’t been that much of a problem, but those of us with wands are going to have to spend a lot more time doing nothing but clean-up if you keep expanding without figuring out a solution.”

“Right. And you can’t use water to clean up potion spills or residue because that just dilutes them and can have odd reactions,” I muttered, seeing the problem.

If I used regular water to wash out the vats, there was a chance some potion residue, even diluted, would stick around in the water, and if washed down into the sewers, well, who knew what would happen if something like a Hair Growth potion splashed onto a rat? We’d be overrun by fluffy rats, that’s what!

Some potion stains couldn’t be cleaned with magic, though, and needed to be mixed with stuff like sand, acid, or even blood to get rid of. But there were a few ways to handle this situation.

“I can work on creating some objects with Scourgify and Vanishing runes to make magical items that do the spell for us,” I said after thinking it over. The runes would be triggered by the latent magic inside the potions, so the people with wands wouldn’t have to waste their time constantly cleaning the vats.

“Oh! Smart!” Merula praised.

“Now, the other issue?” I inquired.

She coughed and looked a bit nervous. “So, one of my friends contacted me recently… and they said we need to look out for, uh, people who might be snooping around.”

“Snooping…?” I muttered to myself. “Who would be snooping?”

“Uh, you know how I kinda, sorta, did things back in school?” she asked hesitantly.

“Yes, I am aware of how you ended up in a cult trying to overthrow the ministry,” I drawled.

“Right. Well, some people at the Ministry haven’t forgotten, either, so there may be Aurors coming around at some point to try and catch me doing something illegal?” Merula warned me.

I blinked, then sighed and ran a hand over my face. ‘I should have expected this,’ I thought with an annoyed grunt.

Of course Merula would still be on Ministry watchlists after her involvement in a plot to brainwash the Minister and a bunch of other people. She was, technically, a criminal, even if she got off on a technicality and due to eventually turning against the other plotters.

“This friend of yours… they work in ROCC, don’t they?” I inquired, and she nodded.

ROCC, or to be more precise, the Rare, Obscure, and Confounding Case Division was a branch of the Ministry of Magic that dealt with problems that even magic couldn’t easily solve. They worked closely with the Aurors and Obliviators, even if they weren’t part of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

‘And the main character of the Hogwarts Mystery games would end up working for them. That must be who Merula’s friend is,’ I guessed.

“Alright, that… yeah, that’s no good,” I said aloud. “If the Aurors catch a whiff of what we’re doing here, it could turn into a major problem.”

“Yeah. How do we prevent that?” Merula asked anxiously. “Because I really like this job, boss. The pay is great and the chance to experiment with potions all day… it’s like a dream come true!”

“For now, as far as the Aurors know, I own a potion business. Let’s keep that illusion going. If anyone does come snooping around here, let’s try to make sure they think this is the only building that exists. Don’t visit any of the other labs or warehouses for a while. Not until we know for certain what will happen next.”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea,” she agreed with a nod. “Don’t wanna tip ‘em off or anything.”

I nodded back, while feeling a twinge of worry. The Ministry was full of problematic people, and while Remus had Madam Bones’ ear, that wouldn’t help me much if somebody investigated my actions too closely.

‘I can try to bribe them,’ I thought to myself.

Under Minister Fudge, bribery was pretty much the go-to way to get rid of problems. But there was also the issue of my Squib status. Even if I’d used the Flamel’s ritual on myself, as far as the Ministry cared, I was a second-class citizen at best.

Even if they did accept my bribes, there was nothing keeping them from just turning around and turning me in. I would need to come up with some ways to solve this problem.

‘Should I ask Greengrass for help?’ I wondered to myself as I left the office.

I didn’t like the idea of doing so. That would put too much strain on our relationship. We were supposed to be equal partners, but relying on Cyrus to get me out of trouble with the Aurors could skew that relationship and give him too much leverage over me.

No, unless absolutely necessary, I would have to protect myself with my own efforts. I just prayed to God and Merlin I wouldn’t have to take too many more actions that might compromise my morals in order to achieve my goals.