No Competition 8 - continued

[evilgoddss]

And the second half of Chapter 8

In retrospect, the plan to take Harry to the bank, after letting the lad spend most of his day gallivanting around with dragons, was poorly thought out. As a result of the lad’s normal good natured attitude, and cheerful willing compliance given freely to those adults he respected, those self-same adults tended to forget that the lad was, fundamentally, still a child.

Oh, Harry was certainly a mature child, being nearly eleven years old; his gravitas at certain times put the devil himself to shame. Everyone deemed that understandable, for in most certainly, Harry at ten and three quarters was infinitely more mature than Lucifer. (It was noted by the Lich, however, that a newborn goat was far more mature than Lucifer, so as a benchmark, that wasn’t one to work by.)

Still, their normally obedient and complacent lad was so amped up from a morning spent flying with dragons, exploring caves full of dragons, and subverting young dragonettes with inane ideas of what was ‘fun’ (i.e. tormenting the dragon-handlers). Truthfully, they really had no proof of the later, seeing as none of them spoke parseltongue, but the lad had spent a good hour and a half just talking with young dragons before the little blighters had started dive-bombing the lunch-hall the handlers had set up. (The handlers were stupefied by that -- dragons NEVER let a handler get near the young. Ever! And here the little monsters were scooping up their trays of eggs and sausage not five feet from the handlers!)

The portkey back to England hadn’t fazed the lad as it normally did. He’d bounced up to the rope and seized hold of it when summoned, a backpack loaded with dragon scales, claws, and dragon TEARs (leaving the Lich envious), with his broom in his free hand, and then had bounced away from the rope on English soil, his green eyes wide and staring at everything in Diagon Alley. Not a stumble was to be seen in any aforementioned bounce. Frankly, the raw energy literally vibrating the child inspired pure terror in the two adults accompanying him. Nothing good, experience told them, could come of this.

“And, I was worried about the dragons.” Jasper muttered.

“You were worried?” The Lich asked. “We had to send Ally straight home to bed after you overdosed her on calming draughts -- I don’t think, in the scope of all things related, that you get to say you were worried.”

Jasper frowned at the robed skeleton. “I didn’t overdose my wife.”

“You were carrying eight calming draughts in your pockets. Did you think I’d need one?” The Lich persisted.

Jasper blinked. “Can you take potions? I mean -- you don’t have a digestive track.”

The Lich snorted. “I got rid of that two millennia ago. Rotted right out, and I’ve never had a flu or digestive issues since!”

“Nor have you had prime-rib, or creme brulee, or strawberries with fresh cream.” Jasper pointed out.

“Jasper,” The Lich told him seriously. “I am over 3000 years old. We didn’t HAVE creme brulee or prime rib to miss. Therefore, not a concern.”

Jasper blinked. He thought about it. “No prime rib?”

“No.”

“What about beef wellington?”

“No.”

Horror welled in his devout carnivores heart. “Chicken? Salmon? Pork?”

“My mother was a streetwalker.” the Lich informed him tartly. “I was fortunate to receive a single bowl of rice and a single ounce a fish a few days a week.” He kept a weather eye on Harry who had come to a stop in front of Flourish and Blotts. “By the time I killed the bitch, I was enrolled in Scholomance -- and meals there were… self-acquired. Prey and predator, for the most part.”

Jasper stopped dead. “And you want to send Harry to school THERE?”

“Hadrian will never be considered prey at Scholomance.” The Lich said, airily waving skeletal hand. “He IS a Dark Lord. He is the penultimate predator.”

A passerby froze, and then scurried off in a panic, overhearing them.

Jasper rolled his eyes. “First, his name is not Hadrian. Second, why not just take an ad out in the Prophet and announce it to all and sundry?”

The Lich glanced up at the late afternoon sun. “I suppose you think his parents named him Harold.”

“Does it matter?” Jasper asked acidly.

“Of course it does.” The Lich cocked his head as Harry began to bounce outside the bookstore. The Lich frowned, insomuch as a skull lacking flesh or muscles could frown. The last thing he wanted was Hadrian exposes to Ministry propaganda, and that was all Flourish & Blotts was allowed to sell. “Dark Lord Harry. Good gravy, he’ll have to slaughter thousands at Scholomance just to stop their laughing. And that’s not acceptable -- I spent far too long and invested far too much in training my replacement as Headmaster to actually see him slaughtered.”

Jasper scoffed. “Harry wouldn’t slaughter…”

The Lich snorted. “He’s a Dark Lord. He won’t have to actually wave his wand, or twitch his nose. MAGIC, the wild magic itself, will actively defend him. And if his feelings are hurt, or he stubs his toe as a teenager, well, someone might end up eviscerated.”

Jasper spun about, “You’re not serious?”

The Lich shrugged -- that motion easy to see, thanks to his robes. “Well, it's’ possible. Harry’s a rather pragmatical lad. I doubt evisceration will likely happen unless his life is placed in any danger.”

Jasper worried at a his index finger in thought. “Is it safe to send him to Hogwarts at all?”

“No.”

“His magic could act up there?”

The Lich snorted. “Probably. But, more concerning is the brainwashing that Dumbledore will attempt. Or the Ministry getting their paws on him.” He paused. “Mind you, if he kills the entire wizengamot, life will be easier for the Dark Creatures.”

“Oh Lord.” Jasper groaned.

Harry, himself, was paying them no mind, other than to turn and look at them expectantly, before turning to stare in the window of the bookstore. His lithe young body was still bouncing, even while standing in one spot.

“Hadrian, lad, there are better bookstores in Knockturn. There are even better ones in Rome. Come along.” The Lich told the boy as they neared.

“They have books about ME!” Harry told them, pointing a finger. “Look!”

Sure enough, standing in the window was a tall display of at least eight different books proclaiming the Adventures of Harry Potter. The cover images, while somewhat but not precisely similar to Harry, showed him as young child of Light.

It was definitely enough to turn Harry’s lip up in a disgusted curl. “Vanquishing the Werewolf?” He snarled. “Someone needs to die!”
The superior look that the Lich gave Jasper was pretty damn snotty.

“Yeah, yeah. No one stands a chance at Scholomance. I got it.” Jasper sighed, tugging on the shoulder of the furious child. “Let’s go see the Goblins, buddy. Maybe they can find out who the publisher is, and screw their thumbs to the walls.”

Harry snorted. “Pru could torture them better than that.”

“So can the Goblins.” The Lich assured the lad, guiding him to the large white building at the top of a series of rather impressive stairs. Gringotts London looked like a Roman Fortress, hard lines of heavy marble and granite ensuring her strength, and warded to hell and back.

Harry peered around the Lich to get his first look at the Goblin guards, until the Lich and Jasper each dropped a hand on a shoulder of the lad, and steered him straight between them. The large bronzed doors opened as they approached, and they stepped into the gold gilt and marble bank.

Harry stared at the vaulted ceiling, and the chandeliers, his gaze swept to the row of tellers, and then behind, to the corridors that led to the executive offices. His mouth stayed closed only due to extraordinary practice. (Pru often tried shoving horrid concoctions into his mouth when it fell open.) “Wow.” He murmured, instead of gaping.

“Yeah.” Jasper grumped. “Nice to see where the bank fees go.”

The Lich ignored them, steering their small party to the queue. The Asian guise had been dispelled immediately after the portkey had landed them on British soil, and instead, it was his hood that sheltered his face from most. A damn good thing, given the conservative nature of the Brits and their tendency to run screaming from walking skeletons.

That didn’t mean, of course, that a few of the patrons weren’t squinting at the skeletal hand curled around a human child’s shoulder. But the trio ignored those looks all the same.

“Next.” A goblin bellowed, and a matronly witch and her incredibly hag-like daughter scurred off to the teller.

The Lich pushed Hadrian forward. “Do let me do the talking.” He advised both the werewolf and the wee Dark Lord.

“Sure.” Jasper shrugged that off, unconcerned. It wasn’t like he banked at Gringotts. His father hadn’t left him with a knut, much less a galleon, and all his money came from the Bank of England anyway.

Harry just nodded, a bit wide-eyed.

“There is nothing to fear.” The Lich assured the lad.

Harry blinked. “Oh, of course not.” He agreed. “But, look at the enchantments on the tellers windows, and the ones on the walls behind. That is so awesome!” His finger waived in the general direction of what his mage-sight was seeing. “Oh, and that head teller…. He has a charm that lets him shut down the entire bank in a moments notice. It’s all done by runes, Lich! I’ve never seen runes like those… I have to learn them!” He paused, head cocking to the side. “Oooh, it’s done with a different language.”

The Lich snorted at the wide-eyed look all the goblin tellers were now casting at the boy. Dark Lords, he mused. They always stirred up such trouble.

“Next.” The head teller bellowed.

The Lich took the lead, Jasper and Harry following behind. The brass nameplate read “Lockjaw”, and goblin in front of them had a pugnaciously large lower jaw, which likely earned him the name. “We wish to speak to the Potter account manager.”

“Potter account manager doesn’t see anyone but Potters.” Lockjaw fair near snarled.

“How fortuitous.” The Lich murmured, reaching behind him to fetch the only male Potter yet living. “I happen to have the account holder right here.”

The goblin scoffed. “Do you know how many morons have come through our doors and pretended to have Harry Potter with them?”

The Lich dropped his hood, enjoying the squeak of fear that rippled through the bank. “Do tell,” He purred.

Lockjaw blinked. His little beady eyes went up to the Head Teller, before skittling back to the Lich standing in front of him. “Ah.” He swallowed hard, looking from the child to the skeletal being in front of him who could only possibly be one… uh… person in legend. “One moment please.”

He vanished from his stool, and scurried up to the Head Teller. Immediately, a whispered argument in Gobbledegook ensued.

“Are there books on that?” Harry whispered.

“Probably. Somewhere.” The Lich murmured, watching the conversation happening. Arms were flailing. Those were always the best discussions, when someone was so worked up that their actual body conveyed more than their words could.

“I’ll ask my account manager.” Harry sighed, reading the disinterest in the Lich’s tone.

“You do that.” The former head-master of Scholomance agreed, head tilting as he studied the Head Teller’s body language. “Ah. Here we go.” He turned suddenly back to the teller's desk.

Lockjaw scurried back to them. “If you’ll step to the side by the Head Teller, a runner will escort you to Rotgut’s office.” He paused, eyeing Harry as the boy moved around to stand in front of Jasper. “Although, be mindful, we will be conducting a blood test to ensure you have the Potter heir with you. If you are trying to rob the bank, your lives will be forfeit.”

“Excellent.” The Lich snapped his skeletal fingers. “I love it when people try to kill me. It means I get to kill them, their families, friends, and pets.”

“He doesn’t mean that.” Jasper muttered, as the Lich strode off.

The child nodded, and smiled cheerfully, as if not in the company of a serial killing Lich. “He’d never hurt someone's pets. That’s just mean.”

Lockjaw took a deep breath, and slapped the closed sign up on his till. “I’m not paid enough for this shit.” He muttered, scuttling down one of the corridors behind the tellers benches.

Jasper snorted, and steered Harry towards the Lich. “He’s a little excitable.” He murmured.

The wait was short, a minute or two, before a goblin runner approached to escort them. They went through a large archway, and from there, down what felt like a glamorized mine tunnel. It was a good five minute walk, before the runner turned, and knocked on an imposing black lacquered door. “Rotgut’s office.” He told them, pushing the door open. “Please go through.”

Harry, of course, now determined to have a book, or SOMETHING about Gobbledegook, bounces right on through. Jasper follows more hesitantly, and the Lich, well, he pauses at the door, casting a withering glare (complete with glowing red eyes) at the goblin runner. As there are no wails, screams or somesuch from Jasper, he follows more sedately.

Rotgut, it seems, was quite used to Potters, and Potter behaviours. Or, so the Lich had to assume, seeing as Harry had commandeered the goblin’s attention to go over his private library within thirty seconds of being in the goblin’s office. “Hadrian.” He sighed.

“But, is there like a primer? For little goblins?” Harry persisted, even as Rotgut made a half turn to give the Lich a most puzzled look.

“Certainly. But, not in MY library. I’m well past primers.” Rotgut assured the boy.

“Oh.” You could almost see the disheartenment in Harry, his shoulders dropped, his cheerful smile drooped, and the wobegon in his green eyes was enough to send the entire pack in Little Whinging out to fetch the lad pizza.

Lord knows, NOBODY wanted to deal with that again. Eight hundred pizzas all dropped off on Jasper and Ally’s door in the space of forty minutes. And none of them personal sized. Each damn one the party-platter. God, it had been a cheesy mess.

“Be at ease, young master. I could request one of our best primers for you, Lord Potter.” The goblin assured him. “So long as you understand, such a book may not be found in the possession of any other wizards except you.”

“AWESOME!” And just like that, Harry brightened up immediately.

“Hadrian, come, sit. Let’s work through our agenda, and then we can return home to check on Ally.” The Lich wasn’t really thinking he had control of this meeting. He just preferred to pretend that when Harry was involved, he had some small measure of control at all.

The goblin again gave him a funny look. Jasper snickered.

“What?”

“You persist in calling Young Master Potter by that name. He was not christened such.” Rotgut informed him. “His grandsire brought him in and opened his trust vault on the very day, and had his name sealed by goblin magic.”

“Hell save me -- he wasn’t actually named Harry, was he?” The Lich asked plaintively.

“No.” Rotgut pulled up a large black ledger, and thumped it down on his desktop. “Of course not. His grandmother would have had his grandfather and father’s balls in the palm of her hand had they done such. And Lilly Potter? Would have done even greater damage to their bodies.” He gave a twisted sharkish smile. “Young Master Potter’s mother was a fearsome witch. We had her blood and magic tested at least a half dozen time, but somehow it was always the same result. We were certain she was some foundling of House Black.”

“She wasn’t?” Jasper leaned forward, keenly interested.

“No. She was a daughter from the house of Fey.”

The Lich snorted. “Of course she was.”

“From who?” Harry asked.

Jasper heaved a sigh. “Harry, remember the book we read, Le Morte de Arthur?”

“Yeah.”

“Remember Morgana Le Fey?”

“She was the bad witch.”

“Yeah.”

There was a moment. Just a few brief ticks of the clock, and then Harry brightened. “WICKED!” He cheered, turning to the Lich. “Hey, maybe I inherited my magic from my mum, then!”

“Undoubtedly. And your father. The Potters weren’t always the sweet house of light that people assume they are.” The Lich muttered. “So, what is not-Hadrian’s name?”

“Hergest James Morrison Potter.

“Seriously?”

“Mostly. I did say the lad’s name was sealed.” The goblin muttered. “Now. Since you’re here, I suppose you’re wondering about the estate.”

“Yes.”

The goblin arched a rather rabid eyebrow. It certainly was bushy, and very wild. “There is three accounts in the Potter name, and 2 in the Le Fey name, 1 in the Black name that Heir Potter is claimant of. However, as neither of you are his magical guardian, I can release no further details.”

Jasper exchanged a look with the Lich, and then at a very confused Harry. “Begging your pardon, then, but could you tell me WHO is the magical guardian of Harry?”

The goblin frowned. “You do not know?”

“Nope.”

His gaze turned to Harry, who squirmed in his seat. “Young Master Potter, on your eight birthday, did you not meet with your magical guardian?”

Harry blinked. “Uh. No. On my eighth…” He cocked his head glancing at Jasper. “There was a full moon, on the night before my eighth birthday. So, we had a big howl-party the night before, rather than the day of. The vampires created a magical pool, complete with a twister waterslide, the wolves provided the barbecue, and the Lich but up noise wards, so the police didn’t both us. In the morning, we had ice-cream cake for breakfast, and then slept until noon. Um. Aunt Ally gave us breakfast for lunch. And, I had tea with Auntie Pru and her Auntie Yaga.” He squinted up at the ceiling. “I made homemade pasta with Jasper in the afternoon, and there was pasta for dinner.” He frowned. “Nope. I mean, Lucifer popped in and all, but he was more there to cause trouble than anything else, and NO ONE would ever make the Prince of Hell a magical guardian.”

“Amen.” Jasper and The Lich both muttered.

“And at no time have you seen or met with Albus Dumbledore?”

The Lich’s hood caught fire. That was the first warning that the ancient sorcerer was pissed. The second warning was the malevolent green that lit up in his eye sockets. “DUMBLEDORE? That blighted wart on a dessicated inferi’s ass?”

Rotgut offered a sly smile, “The very same.”

“How the hell did he get named Hadrian’s..”

“Hergest,” Jasper, Harry and Rotgut all chimed.

“.... whatever… guardian?”

The smile shifted, becoming something truly evil, “Why, he sealed the will, so that only a direct heir in the will could open it, and then named himself magical guardian.” Rotgut steepled his long fingers over the ledger.

“Hergest,” Jasper smiled at Harry nastily, “Would you mind?”

“Account Manager Rotgut, I am Hergest James Potter. Could you unseal my parents will and have it read to me?” Harry smiled sweetly.

Rotgut’s face lit up. It was truly gruesome. “Certainly, Heir Potter. One moment, please.” He vanished out the door of his office.

“Hergest?” Harry muttered in dismay.

“Dark Lord Hergest.” The Lich tested it out, and found it lacking. “Dark Lord Herg. Ugh.”

“Ally will love it.” Jasper mused. “Maybe we should lie to her.”

“Yes.” Harry agreed. “Let’s tell her my real name is Harley.”

“No.” The Lich retorted.

“Harold.”

“Oh hell no!”

“Eanraig?”

The Lich dropped his head into his hands. “Where in Hell did you dream up that one? And, how is this my life?” He asked.

“That is a mystery only you know. Every other attempt by other mages to do what you’ve done -- well you’ve gone off and slaughtered them.” Jasper reminded him. “Something about patenting the process?”

“Shuddup.” The Lich growled. He pointed a bony finger at the werewolf. “You I can live without.”

“Eanraig will protect me.” The werewolf smirked, pulling Harry out of his seat and into his lap.

“No. No Eanraig.”

Harry was undefeated, “What about Heimirich, or Heinrich, or Henricus, or Henrick.” H e paused for a breath, “Or… umm..Endika, or Enric Hey -- Hynek, or Heiko, or maybe… Dark Lord Henny, or Lord Enzo, Mr. Anri, or Arrai, or… oooh… Enrico, or… I know… Dark Lord Herkulus”

“It’s been done!” The Lich bleated. “So overdone! What about Hadrian!”

“Nope.” The boy said cheekily. “Dark Lord Arrigo. How’s that?”

“No.”

“So, we stay with Harry for now.” The child decided.

“Hadrian.” The Lich immediately countered, obstinately.

“Nope. Nope. Nada. Nope. “ The lad sang cheerfully. “You can call me that all you want, but when I turn seventeen, I’ll legally change my name to Dark Lord Henny.”

“Over my dead body!” The Lich roared.

“Dessicated body?” Jasper moderated. “Technically, you’re all skeleton. I don’t think we can really have a viable living body argument.”

“Shut up, wolf!”

The door thumped open, and Rotgut returned with the Bank Manager, resplendent in furs and silks, in tow. “Lord Potter, may I introduce you to my manager, and the Chieftain of the Hord, Ragnock.”

Jasper and the Lich rose to their feet, pulling Harry up as they went. “Hi!” The boy gave a grin and a wave.

The Chieftain gazed at the child for a long moment, appraising what he was seeing, before turning yellowed eyes to the Lich and Jasper, respectively. “Welcome to Gringotts, Headmaster, Lord Potter and Mr. Lockwood.” He inclined his head slightly with the greeting. “I am given to understand that the Heir of House Potter has requested the formal unsealing of his parent’s will.”

“Yes.” Harry nodded.

“Furthermore, that there has been no contact from Young Master Potter’s magical guardian since his fifteen month.”

“I can’t say for sure prior to his fourth year,” Jasper said steadily, “But, I do know Albus Dumbledore has not been in Little Whinging since such time.”

“He did have an agent in Little Whinging, however.” The Lich leaned back in his seat, now feeling more control when both gobins in front of him had been former Scholomance students. Still, as reclined and relaxed as he appeared, he watched the two goblins closely. They hadn’t been students under him for a few centuries, and everyone changed if given enough time. “Once I realized that she was a squib, with an overabundance of kneezle cats which she sent out around the Dursley's property to monitor the family there, I captured and investigated her. She was a plant, though mostly harmless, and dealt with.”

By dealt with, Jasper and Harry both knew that the Lich meant that Mrs Figg’s mind had been closely examined, as if through a strainer. Some joker named Lockhart had scrambled her memories up something fierce, because once fixed, she’d cursed Dumbledore out in a blue streak, packed up and left for the Americas

Ragnock stroked his chin with clawed fingertips. “Well then, we will set up a formal will reading for July 31st, however, the most interesting part to my mind is that nowhere in the will is Dumbledore named as a guardian be it physical or magical, nor were these Dursleys that you name, though we, the nation, are aware of their relationship to the Potters.”

Jasper’s inner wolf perked up. Wasn’t that a neat tidbit.

“If we open the will, this will jeopardize the custody structure for the young Master.”

“Who should have had custody?” The Lich leaned forward, his casual ease disappearing.

“First, Alice and Frank Longbottom. Both are incarcerated in St. Mungos having been driven insane via the cruciatus. Mrs. Longbottom was the lad’s godmother. Second, Sirius Orion Black, the lad’s godfather. Hergest is also the heir to Mr. Black. Black was incarcerated in Azkaban without trial, and therefore unavailable. Third, Remus Lupin, excluded under Ministry Law for being a werewolf.” Rotgut answered.

Jasper cleared his throat. “Would custody not fall to a near relative if prior candidates were not available for whatever reason?”

Ragnock smiled. “Yes.”

“My wife is Allison Dorea Lockwood, nee Black. Grand-daughter of Marius Black, who was brother to current Lord Black.”

Both goblins grinned. It was a gruesome display of small sharp teeth.

“Would your wife be available to attend the will reading?” Ragnock asked mildly, walking around to take the seat of Rotgut’s desk. Manager prerogative, Jasper assumed.

“Yes. She already booked the day off for Harry’s birthday.” Jasper nodded. Would Ally be happy about having her schedule adjusted? Probably not. Such were the pains of marriage.

“I will prepare the necessary paperwork. WIll she serve as magical guardian?” The Chieftain of the horde pulled Rotgut’s agenda out of his desk drawer, and made a note on it.

“No. I will.” The Lich decided.

Eyebrows rose. “You… Will?” The Chieftain asked carefully, slowly.

The green in his empty eye sockets shifted to red. “Is that a problem?” The ancient sorcerer growled.

“No. But, when Dumbledore finds out, I do wish to be there.” The Chieftain snickered nastily. He made a few more notes. “Excellent. Well then, when the young Heir arrives with Mrs Lockwood, and yourself for the reading, we can change both physical and magical guardians at that time.” He looked up and over at Harry. “If we do it earlier, the Ministry can protest, but after his eleventh, by the time it’s filed with the Ministry, it’s far too late.” He sneered slightly. “We file with the ICW, ensuring that it takes another thirty-one days before the British Ministry of Magic receives anything. And the British Ministry of Magic never reacts to anything with any degree of swiftness.”

Both the Lich and Jasper smirked. And Harry dutifully fistbumped them both. If the Ministry didn’t receive the notice of change until August 31st, then Dumbledore wouldn’t find out until after September 1st. He would be in no position to fight, then. He’d be busy starting the school year, and would be trapped at Hogwarts. And after sixty-days of no contention, the guardianship would be inviolate unless the heir came to harm at the hands of the named guardian.

Ally would love that little twist.

But, the goblin chieftain wasn’t done. “Also, as Heir Potter will be at his first stage of magical maturity, his core is deemed stable. We can therefore remove that little soul shard from his scar at the same time.”

The Lich stiffened. “What?”

“The horocrux in the boy’s head. You did know about that, did you not? We knew the moment he walked in the bank.”

“WHAT?”

“Removing it would take nothing. We could do it now, but my potionmasters advised that we don’t have the required potions ready. It’s a simple potion, but doesn’t keep very well. Our potionmasters have instructions to make it, and that plus a small five minute cleansing ritual will take care of it. It’s just a wee bit of soul magic. Nothing big.”

“WHAT?!?”

---

“It’s just a wee bit of soul magic…” The Lich snarled nastily as they walked through the wards that protected Little Whinging from detection. “Nothing big. Nothing significant, just a little itsy bitsy thing like soul magic… those fucking little ground crawling…. I’ve taught goblins for over three thousand years, and did one of them mention the goblin nation specialized in soul magic? Those fucking little snotty…”

Jasper sighed, tightening his hand on Harry’s shoulder as they walked through the darkened streets of Little Whinging towards Private Drive. They could have apparated. Hell, they could have taken a portkey home, but the Lich’s foul mood required a bit more walking off than such immediately would allow.

“I’ve spent three years setting up the ritual to remove that shard, and they can do it in five fucking minutes? Those wretched…” The Lich descended into what Jasper suspected was Romanian. It was probably best the Lich used other languages. Harry had been fascinated when the ranting. had started, and was likely making mental notes.

“I thought they were really nice.” The boy chimed, which just set the Lich off in more explosive, more exotic languages, rants.

“They’re getting me a primer and a learning orb for Gobbledegook.” He reminded the ancient sorcerer with a smile.

The Lich glared, a growl emanating from his throat.

Jasper stiffened. “Hey, now, don’t go snarling at Harry.” He said.

The baring of the teeth was less impressive when there wasn’t a lip to curl up from it. Still, the Lich did a credible job of imitating a werewolf there.

Jasper huffed. “Look, isn’t it better that they do this? They are EXPERTS in soul magic.”

“WHICH I PIONEERED!” The sorcerer howled. “Those filthy little maggots could have told me they were expanding on my original work. They should have SHARED what they learned, instead of leaving us fumbling in the dark!”

“Oh.” Harry said quietly, going to a dead stop, and driving Jasper to stop too. Jasper’s gaze swung to the boy, and then up to where the boy was looking. HIs eyes widened.

“I spent centuries researching soul magic. Taught those filthy worms everything I knew at Scholomance, and they have the audacity to go behind MY back and…” Whatever else the Lich was going to say stopped abruptly when he walked right into the scaly side of a Hebridean black dragon.

The dragon, peered down at the skeleton assaulting it’s flank, and snorted. Sixty-five other dragons all crowded up the streets of Magnolia and Privet drive huffed back in response.

Jasper sucked in a breath, and craned his head to look around. “Oh dear.” He muttered.

The Lich, on the other hand, took one look at the dragon, cast a withering glare at Harry, and then spotted the rest of the herd from Romania. “Oh. Crap. Not again, Harry!”