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The grand marble facade of Gringotts Bank loomed before them. Harry glanced back at the street, where Itisa sat regally atop a nearby bench, her golden eyes fixed on him with unmistakable displeasure at being left behind.
"Sorry, girl," Harry mouthed, offering an apologetic shrug. "Goblins and Nundus don't mix well."
Itisa's tail twitched in what Harry had come to recognize as resigned annoyance. He made a mental note to procure an especially succulent piece of meat for her later as compensation.
"She'll be fine," Ted assured him, placing a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Gringotts shouldn't take more than an hour."
An hour of my life wasted on paperwork and pleasantries, Harry thought wryly. Still, if he wanted to be taken seriously in the wizarding world, certain formalities had to be observed—even by twelve-year-olds who would rather be testing new talisman designs.
As they passed through the burnished bronze doors and then the silver inner doors with their ominous warning poem, Harry felt the familiar sense of entering a different world—one where the rules were decidedly not written by or for wizards.
Goblins moved with efficiency behind their high counters, weighing gems, counting coins, and regarding customers with thinly veiled suspicion. The marble hall echoed with the clink of metal and the scratch of quills on parchment.
Ted approached a counter and spoke in respectful tones. "We have an appointment with Account Manager Dinak regarding Mr. Potter's business affairs."
The goblin peered down his long nose at them, recognition flickering in his dark eyes as they landed on Harry. "Mr. Potter is expected. Follow me."
Instead of the usual carts, they were led down a different corridor—this one lined with ornate doors bearing gold nameplates. Harry noticed Nymphadora's hair beginning to flicker erratically between colors as they walked deeper into the bank.
"Nyma? Are you alright?" Harry asked, concern showing in his face.
"I don't—" Nymphadora grimaced, raising a hand to her head. "Something feels wrong. Like I'm being... pushed back into myself."
Her hair, which had been cycling through shades of purple, suddenly snapped to a deep, lustrous black. Her features, too, seemed to settle into what Harry realized must be her natural appearance—slightly heart-shaped face, dark eyes, and a nose that bore a subtle resemblance to her mother's refined one. She was beautiful.
"It's the bank's protective magic," their goblin guide explained without slowing his pace. "Ancient runic barriers discourage all forms of magical disguise or transformation within these walls. Security measure."
"You could have warned me," Nymphadora muttered, trying unsuccessfully to shift her appearance. All she managed was a momentary flicker of pink at the tips of her hair before it settled back to black.
"I like it," Harry commented honestly. "Your real hair color, I mean. It suits you."
Nymphadora rolled her eyes, but Harry caught the slight flush that colored her cheeks. "Oh, laugh it up, squirt. You try having your abilities suddenly suppressed."
"I'm serious," Harry insisted. "It looks good."
"Shut up," Nymphadora mumbled, but there was no heat in her words, and the corners of her mouth twitched upward.
Their guide stopped before a door with a nameplate reading "Dinak, Senior Account Manager — Specialized Ventures." He knocked once, sharply, and the door swung open of its own accord.
The office beyond was unlike any Harry had seen in the bank before. Dark wood paneling lined the walls, interspersed with shelves holding curious artifacts—small mechanical devices that whirred quietly, crystal containers holding what appeared to be swirling memories, and several heavy ledgers bound in materials Harry couldn't identify. A large desk dominated the center of the room, behind which sat one of the most unusual goblins Harry had ever encountered.
Where most goblins Harry had met had dark hair and swarthy complexions, Dinak sported a mane of silver hair that fell to his shoulders in carefully groomed waves. His eyes were a penetrating shade of amber, and his fingers, steepled before him, bore several ornate rings. His suit was impeccably tailored, charcoal gray with subtle emerald pinstripes that reminded Harry of Slytherin colors.
"Mr. Potter," Dinak said, his voice surprisingly melodious for a goblin. "How delightful to finally meet the young craftsman whose talismans have caused such a stir. Please, be seated."
Harry took the chair directly across from Dinak, while the Tonks family arranged themselves in the remaining seats. He noticed that not a single paper was visible on Dinak's immaculate desk, yet the goblin exuded an air of having every detail perfectly organized in his mind.
"I understand this is your first visit regarding your business vault," Dinak continued, his amber eyes never leaving Harry's face. "A most... unusual circumstance. We don't often open specialized vaults for underage wizards, but then, you do have a talent for the exceptional, don't you, Mr. Potter?"
There was something in the way Dinak spoke—a liltingly careful emphasis on certain words, a calculated warmth—that set Harry's instincts on alert. This goblin wasn't simply a bank employee; he was playing a deeper game.
"I'm grateful for the accommodation," Harry replied evenly. "I understand my situation is unusual, but I hope my business will prove worthwhile for Gringotts."
A thin smile curved Dinak's lips. "Oh, I'm quite certain it will, Mr. Potter. Quite certain indeed." He made a small gesture with one ringed hand, and a stack of parchments materialized on the desk. "Now, there are several matters to address. First, the formal recognition of your business vault, separate from your family vault, designated for the proceeds of your talisman enterprise."
Ted leaned forward slightly. "We've reviewed the preliminary documentation, but Harry should examine the final contracts himself."
"Of course," Dinak agreed smoothly. "I would expect nothing less. Financial literacy is a virtue sadly lacking in most young wizards. It's... refreshing to see it encouraged."
As the goblin began explaining the terms of the vault management, Harry felt his curiosity overcoming his caution. "Excuse me," he interrupted, "but I noticed something strange when we were walking here. Nymphadora's metamorphmagus abilities were suppressed. How exactly does goblin magic work to counter wizard abilities?"
Dinak paused, his amber eyes narrowing slightly. "Goblin magic," he said after a moment, "is not a subject we typically discuss with wand-carriers."
"Why not?" Harry pressed, ignoring Andromeda's warning glance. "Is it because wizards have historically tried to steal goblin magical knowledge, or because keeping it secret gives you an advantage?"
A flicker of what might have been genuine surprise crossed Dinak's features before his composed expression returned. "Most interesting. Most wizards simply accept our explanations without question. They've grown... comfortable with the status quo."
Andromeda cleared her throat, sending Harry a pointed look that clearly said: Don't antagonize the bank that holds your fortune.
Harry ignored the warning. "You didn't answer my question."
"And you, Mr. Potter, are extraordinarily direct for someone so young," Dinak replied, his tone caught between amusement and assessment. "Why does Gringotts bother with wizards at all? Is that what you're really asking?"
"Yes," Harry admitted. "If wizards have historically treated goblins poorly, and if goblin magic is powerful enough to suppress wizarding abilities within these walls, why continue this arrangement at all?"
Dinak leaned back in his chair, studying Harry with newfound interest. "Gold, Mr. Potter. Value. Worth. These are constants in an inconstant world. Goblins understand this better than any species. We respect what holds true value, whether it be precious metals or..." he gestured to Harry's chest, where one of his talismans hung beneath his robes, "exceptional craftsmanship."
"You are interested in my talisman, not just the gold it brings?"
"Your creations have caused quite a stir, not only in the wizarding community but among certain circles of my kind as well." Dinak's fingers drummed once against the desk. "While not the finest magical items a goblin has ever encountered, they show remarkable potential for a wizard whose magic has not yet fully matured."
Harry frowned. "What do you mean, 'not yet fully matured'?"
"A wizard's magic doesn't reach its full potential until approximately age eighteen," Dinak explained, seeming to enjoy Harry's evident surprise. "You've crafted Ministry-classified Gilded Fang talismans with the magical core of a child. Imagine what you might create once your magic has fully developed."
Before Harry could process this revelation, Dinak gestured and a servant appeared with a silver tray bearing a peculiar-looking pencil made of a dark, polished wood Harry didn't recognize.
"Now, if you're satisfied with your interrogation, perhaps we might proceed to the matter at hand?" Dinak suggested, though his tone had lost some of its edge. "The contracts await your signature."
Harry reached for the stack of parchments, reading through each page carefully. The terms seemed straightforward enough—establishment of vault 747 under his name, procedures for deposits from talisman sales, access provisions for himself and Ted Tonks as his designated business manager, and various security provisions.
When he finally reached for the unusual pencil, a prickle of magic ran up his arm. Harry immediately pulled back.
"Is this pencil cursed?" he asked bluntly.
Dinak chuckled, the sound like small stones clicking together. "Not cursed, Mr. Potter. Enchanted. It ensures that only you—your blood and magical signature—can access the Blood Key should the original be lost. A security measure for our most... valuable clients."
Harry met the goblin's amber eyes, certain there was more to it than that. Still, he had read the contracts thoroughly and found nothing questionable. With a deep breath, he took the pencil again, ignoring the strange tingling sensation, and signed his name on each designated line.
As he finished the final signature, Dinak reached into his desk drawer and withdrew a small box of polished obsidian. Opening it, he revealed a golden key with a small emerald set into its handle.
"Your vault key, Mr. Potter. Vault 747 is now officially at your disposal."
Harry took the key, surprised by its substantial weight and the faint hum of magic emanating from it. "I'd like to see the vault," he decided.
Dinak's silver eyebrows rose slightly. "Today? Very well. I shall escort you personally."
Rather than returning to the main hall, Dinak led them through a concealed door at the back of his office that opened directly onto a torch-lit passageway with cart tracks. A cart was already waiting, larger and more elaborate than the standard ones Harry had ridden before.
"Why does Gringotts still use these carts?" Harry asked as they climbed aboard. "Wouldn't magical lifts be more... dignified?"
Dinak's thin lips curved into what might have been a genuine smile. "Why do you think we use them, Mr. Potter? Since you seem so fond of questions, perhaps you might deduce the answer yourself."
As the cart plunged downward, racing along twisting tracks that seemed to follow no logical pattern, Harry considered the question. The random accelerations, sudden turns, and disorienting drops made it nearly impossible to track their route.
"The carts move in a way that prevents mapping," Harry said slowly, gripping the side as they rounded a particularly sharp curve. "And I'd guess there are more of those magic-suppressing runes down here, making sure wizards can't use magic to figure out where they are or to break into vaults."
Dinak's eyebrows rose fractionally. "Most observant. The cart system is indeed... deliberately disorienting."
Harry noticed they were descending much deeper than he'd gone for his parents' vault, passing through sections of cave he'd never seen before. The air grew cooler, and the rough walls gave way to smooth stone that seemed almost polished, inscribed with runes that glowed faintly as they passed.
Finally, the cart screeched to a halt before a vault door bearing the number 747 in gold numerals. The door was smaller than his family vault's but made of what appeared to be a dark metal that seemed to absorb the torchlight rather than reflect it.
"Vault 747," Dinak announced, stepping from the cart. "If you would present your key, Mr. Potter."
Harry did so, inserting the golden key into the lock. It turned with surprising ease, and the door swung open silently, revealing the contents of his business vault for the first time.
Though not as vast as his family vault, the chamber contained an impressive collection of coins neatly arranged in stacks—primarily gold Galleons, glinting in the light from the enchanted lamps that flickered to life as the door opened. A small pedestal in the center held a ledger bound in green leather, which Dinak explained would magically update with each deposit and withdrawal.
"Your fifteen percent commission from each Ministry talisman purchase," Dinak explained, gesturing to the gold. "A tidy sum already, with potential for significant growth should your international ventures prove successful."
Harry nodded, appreciating the businesslike arrangement. After collecting a modest amount from this vault, he requested a stop at his family vault as well, which Dinak accommodated with a knowing smile.
When they eventually emerged into the sunlight of Diagon Alley, Harry blinking after the darkness of the underground passages, Nymphadora's hair immediately began shifting through colors again, finally settling on a vibrant pink.
"So," she said, falling into step beside him as they headed toward the bench where Itisa waited, "why did you take money from both vaults? Planning something special?"
Harry felt the weight of the coins in his pockets, an idea forming that he wasn't quite ready to share. "Just checking something," he replied evasively. "I'm not entirely sure yet."
Nymphadora's hair deepened to a curious shade of pink, but she didn't press further. Harry was grateful for that; some plans were best kept private until they were fully formed—especially when they involved expanding his talisman designs in ways the Ministry might not entirely approve of.
Itisa greeted him with a reproachful stare as they approached, but allowed Harry to scratch behind her ears in apology. Her golden eyes seemed to ask a hundred questions that Harry couldn't answer—at least not here in public.
"Later," he promised quietly, as the disguised Nundu reclaimed her position around his shoulders. "I think we've got an interesting year ahead of us."
Six Days Later
Six days after the Gringotts visit, Harry found himself standing beside Ted Tonks in what appeared to be an ordinary telephone booth in a nondescript London street. It was hardly the grand entrance to the wizarding government he had envisioned.
"This is it?" Harry asked skeptically, eyeing the scratched glass and worn metal of the booth. "The entrance to the Ministry of Magic?"
Ted smiled, squeezing into the tight space beside Harry and closing the door. "Not every magical location can announce itself with the subtlety of a dragon in a china shop, Harry. Now, watch."
He picked up the receiver and dialed 62442. A cool female voice immediately filled the booth, though it didn't seem to come from the receiver itself.
"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business."
"Ted Tonks and Harry Potter, meeting with the Italian delegation regarding talisman procurement," Ted replied clearly.
"Thank you," said the disembodied voice. "Visitors, please take the badges and attach them to the front of your robes."
Two silver badges clattered into the metal chute where returned coins normally appeared. Harry picked them up, examining his with amusement. It read: "Harry Potter, Talisman Consultant."
"Consultant," Harry muttered, pinning the badge to his robes. "Is that what I am now?"
"The Ministry does love its labels," Ted commented dryly as the floor of the telephone booth began to sink like an elevator. "Though I suspect 'Boy Who Crafts Magical Protective Jewelry' wouldn't fit on the badge."
"They're not jewelry," Harry corrected automatically, then caught Ted's teasing smile and rolled his eyes. "You've been spending too much time with Nymphadora."
"Who do you think she took after?" Ted teased him.
Darkness engulfed them briefly before a golden light began filtering in from below. The booth continued its descent into a vast hall with a highly polished dark wood floor. The peacock-blue ceiling above them was inlaid with gleaming golden symbols that shifted and moved like an arcane ticker tape.
"The Atrium," Ted explained as they stepped out of the booth. "The heart of the Ministry."
Harry took in the scene with wide eyes. The space was enormous, lined with gilded fireplaces on both sides—green flames periodically flaring in those on the left as witches and wizards arrived for work, while the right-side fireplaces flashed as departing employees disappeared in emerald bursts.
Dominating the center of the hall was a fountain featuring a group of golden statues. A noble-looking wizard stood tallest, his wand pointed skyward. Around him were a beautiful witch, a centaur, a goblin, and a house-elf, all gazing adoringly up at the wizard and witch. Water spouted from various points, creating a soothing background music of splashing and tinkling.
"The Fountain of Magical Brethren," Ted said, following Harry's gaze. "Rather telling, isn't it?"
Harry nodded, understanding the unspoken critique. "Very... aspirational, I suppose. Not exactly reflecting the goblin I just met at Gringotts."
"Indeed. Though I wouldn't recommend sharing that observation with Minister Fudge."
They approached a desk labeled "Security," where a badly-shaven wizard in peacock-blue robes looked up from his Daily Prophet.
"Step over here," he said in a bored tone, setting down his paper and lifting a long golden rod. He passed it up and down Harry's front and back like a Muggle metal detector, then did the same to Ted.
"Wands," the security wizard grunted, holding out his hand.
Ted presented his wand first, which the guard placed on a brass instrument resembling a set of scales with only one plate. The instrument vibrated briefly before producing a narrow strip of parchment.
"Eleven inches, dragon heartstring core, in use twenty-four years, correct?"
"Correct," Ted confirmed as the guard impaled the slip of parchment on a brass spike and held out his hand for Harry's wand.
"I didn't bring mine," Harry said with a casual tone. The guard looked a little surprised but just shrugged his shoulders and let them continue.
"This way," Ted directed, steering Harry toward a set of golden gates at the end of the hall. Beyond them stood a smaller hall with at least twenty lifts behind wrought golden grilles. Witches and wizards crowded around them, some engaged in conversation, others buried in paperwork or copies of the Daily Prophet.
As they waited for a lift, Harry noticed several people staring at him, a few nudging their companions and whispering behind their hands. Harry noticed one of them pulling out a talisman from beneath their clothes, and Harry felt a surge of warmth in his chest.
A lift arrived with a clatter, and Ted guided Harry inside, where they found themselves pressed against the back wall by the crowd. A cool female voice announced: "Level Seven, Department of Magical Games and Sports," as the lift began ascending.
The lift stopped at nearly every floor, the same female voice announcing each department while paper airplane memos zoomed in and out above their heads. Harry watched, fascinated, as the purple airplanes navigated the crowded space with surprising precision.
"Interdepartmental memos," Ted explained, following Harry's gaze. "They used to use owls, but the mess was considerable."
"Level Five, Department of International Magical Cooperation," the voice finally announced.
"That's us," Ted said, guiding Harry through the thinning crowd and out of the lift.
They emerged into a corridor lined with doors bearing nameplates in various languages. At the far end stood a tall witch in elegant navy robes who approached them with purposeful strides.
"Mr. Tonks, Mr. Potter," she greeted formally. "I'm Cordelia Fawley, Assistant to the Head of International Magical Cooperation. The Italian delegation has arrived, and Minister Fudge is already in attendance. If you'll follow me?"
She led them down the corridor, past offices where wizards and witches were conversing in languages Harry didn't recognize, some using translation charms that created strange echoing effects as words transformed mid-air from one language to another.
They stopped before an ornate door bearing the Ministry seal encircled by the flags of numerous countries. Cordelia tapped the door three times with her wand in a specific pattern, and it swung open.
The room beyond was unlike anything Harry had seen in the Ministry so far. A large round table of polished ebony dominated the center, surrounded by high-backed chairs upholstered in deep purple velvet. The walls appeared to be windows, though Harry knew they must be enchanted, as they displayed views of what he assumed were magical districts from around the world—a sunlit plaza surrounded by Renaissance architecture, a marketplace beneath the shadow of a pyramid, an avenue of cherry trees in full bloom with paper lanterns floating overhead.
At the table sat several people already engaged in quiet conversation. Harry immediately recognized Minister Fudge in his pinstriped cloak and lime-green bowler hat, looking unusually animated as he spoke to the woman seated beside him.
Harry's attention was immediately drawn to this woman. She was beautiful in a way that made it difficult not to stare—elegant features framed by dark hair swept into an intricate knot that gleamed with subtle highlights of mahogany and amber when she moved. Her white skin seemed to glow in the enchanted light, giving her a warm, vibrant presence that contrasted sharply with the pallid complexions of many Ministry officials. Most arresting of all were her eyes—the color of rich amber with flecks of gold that reminded Harry uncomfortably of Dinak's penetrating gaze, though hers held a warmth the goblin's had lacked.
She wore robes of deep burgundy cut in a distinctly Italian style, accentuating her tall, statuesque figure. The fabric appeared to be silk or something similarly luxurious, with subtle gold embroidery along the sleeves and collar that caught the light when she gestured. Her ensemble spoke of refined taste rather than ostentation, a stark contrast to Fudge's garish lime-green bowler hat and pinstriped cloak that seemed to scream for attention rather than command it naturally.
Where Fudge's clothing seemed designed to announce his importance through loud colors and excessive ornamentation, Minister Lombardi's attire suggested a confidence that required no such broadcasting. A single gold pendant bearing what appeared to be her family crest rested at her collarbone, and matching earrings with tiny ruby droplets completed her sophisticated appearance.
Even at twelve, Harry could recognize that she was beautiful.
"Minister Lombardi," Cordelia announced, "may I present Mr. Ted Tonks and Mr. Harry Potter."
The amber eyes locked onto Harry with immediate interest, and he felt an unexpected warmth creep into his cheeks. Great, he thought, not only am I the youngest person in the room by decades, but now I'm blushing like an idiot.
"Ah! Young Mr. Potter!" Fudge exclaimed, rising from his seat with a broad smile. "Excellent, excellent. Minister Lombardi has been most eager to meet you."
The Italian Minister rose gracefully, extending a hand adorned with a single gold ring bearing a crest Harry didn't recognize. "Mr. Potter," she said in lightly accented English, "it is a pleasure to finally meet the young artificer whose work has caused such interest among our Auror Department."
Harry shook her hand, relieved that his voice came out steady. "The pleasure is mine, Minister Lombardi. I'm honored by your interest in my talismans."
"Please, be seated," she gestured to two empty chairs. "I believe introductions are in order."
As they took their seats, Minister Lombardi introduced the members of her delegation—her Senior Undersecretary, the Head of the Italian Auror Office, and their Chief Magical Artificer, an elderly wizard with keen eyes who regarded Harry with particular interest. On the British side sat Fudge, Amelia Bones, and two Department Heads Harry didn't recognize.
"Now then," Fudge began, adjusting his bowler hat unnecessarily, "we are gathered to discuss the potential acquisition of Potter Talismans for the Italian Ministry. But before we delve into those dry details, perhaps we might enjoy some refreshment? Vittoria—may I call you Vittoria?—I've taken the liberty of having our finest elf-made wine brought up."
Minister Lombardi's expression cooled several degrees. "Minister Fudge, while I appreciate the hospitality, I make it a policy to conduct business before pleasure. And I prefer 'Minister Lombardi' in official settings."
Fudge's smile faltered momentarily before he rallied. "Of course, of course! All business, just as I prefer myself. Though I must say, that shade of burgundy is most becoming on you. I've always said Italian witches have a certain flair—"
"Minister," Amelia Bones interrupted smoothly, "perhaps Mr. Potter could begin by explaining the specifications of his talismans for our guests?"
Harry shot Madam Bones a grateful look before clearing his throat. "Thank you, Madam Bones. Minister Lombardi, I understand your Aurors have specific needs that may differ from those of the British Ministry."
The Italian Minister nodded, seemingly relieved at the shift to business. "Indeed. Italy faces unique magical security challenges due to our extensive ancient sites and artifacts. Dark wizards are particularly drawn to certain locations with... historical significance."
"If I may ask," Harry began, careful to sound respectful rather than challenging, "what specific protections would be most valuable to your Aurors?"
The Italian Head Auror leaned forward. "Shield strength against ancient curses is our primary concern. Many of our most dangerous encounters involve defensive wards that have mutated over centuries."
Harry nodded thoughtfully. "The standard Potter Talisman has three primary functions. First, it absorbs minor to moderate offensive spells directed at the wearer, collecting their magical energy. When it has absorbed enough magic, the talisman glows gold, indicating it's fully charged."
He lifted his own talisman slightly, continuing, "Second, when charged and activated by the wearer saying 'Release,' it emits a powerful burst of blinding light that disorients nearby threats—quite effective for creating an escape opportunity or gaining a tactical advantage."
The Italian Head Auror leaned forward with interest. "And if the spell is too powerful to absorb?"
"That's the third function," Harry explained. "If a spell exceeds the talisman's absorption capacity, it emits a warning sound, alerting the wearer to danger they might not have detected otherwise. This gives precious seconds to react."
Harry paused before adding more solemnly, "There's also a final safeguard. If the wearer sustains life-threatening injuries, the talisman performs one last act—it releases all its stored magic as healing energy. This is powerful enough to save the wearer from death, but it completely consumes the talisman, turning it to ash."
The Chief Artificer stroked his beard. "Impressive for one so young. But these ancient curses Roberto mentions—they often bypass standard defensive measures by infiltrating rather than attacking directly."
"That's actually something I've been working on," Harry replied, reaching into his robes to withdraw a talisman slightly different from his standard design. Where his usual talismans featured a central protective rune surrounded by a triangular configuration of supporting elements, this one had a spiral pattern with the central rune at its heart.
"This is a prototype of what I'm calling the Potter Talisman: Sentinel Edition. It's specially attuned to detect and respond to more insidious magic—including ancient curses that might bypass conventional defenses."
He placed the talisman on the table, where it gleamed under the enchanted lights. "May I demonstrate?"
At Minister Lombardi's nod, Ted Tonks drew his wand and aimed it at the talisman. "I'm going to cast a minor hex with a twist—one that changes properties mid-cast."
He performed a careful wand movement, murmuring an incantation. A jet of yellow light shot toward the talisman, shifting to purple mid-flight. The talisman glowed briefly, absorbing the spell, then emitted a soft chime.
"The Sentinel can absorb magic like the standard model, but it also recognizes when a spell is trying to change or disguise itself," Harry explained. "It can even detect certain curses that target not the body but the mind or magic of the wearer."
The room had fallen silent, all eyes fixed on either Harry or the talisman still humming with absorbed energy.
"How many spells can it absorb before needing to release?" the Italian Artificer asked, clearly impressed despite himself.
"The Sentinel can absorb approximately twice the magical energy of the standard model before needing release," Harry replied. "I developed this variation after hearing about incidents where Aurors encountered ancient curses in tombs and ruins. With Sentinel Talismans, your Aurors would have protection against both direct attacks and more subtle magical dangers."
Minister Lombardi exchanged a significant look with her Head Auror, who gave a slight nod.
"And the cost for these... Sentinel Editions?" she inquired, her amber eyes calculating.
"Twenty percent above the standard model," Harry replied without hesitation. "The enchantment process is more complex and time-consuming."
"Outrageous!" Fudge sputtered, his face reddening. "Vittoria, you mustn't let the boy take advantage—"
"I find the terms quite reasonable," Minister Lombardi interrupted coolly. "Particularly considering the intelligence-gathering aspect, which adds significant strategic value beyond mere protection."
Fudge deflated, looking both confused and annoyed at having his attempted gallantry rebuffed.
Harry maintained a neutral expression, though inwardly he was both amused by Fudge's discomfort and pleased by Minister Lombardi's business acumen. She actually understands the value proposition instead of just seeing Galleons flowing out of the Ministry coffers.
"There is one more feature I've been developing," Harry continued. "A communication function that allows Sentinel Talismans to share their gathered intelligence when in proximity to each other. This would enable your Aurors to pool their knowledge in the field."
The Italian Head Auror leaned forward, clearly intrigued. "When could this feature be implemented?"
"I need to refine the enchantment stability, but I estimate it could be included in talismans delivered one year from now, at no additional cost if you commit to an initial order today."
Minister Lombardi's eyebrows rose slightly. "You drive a hard bargain for one so young, Mr. Potter."
Harry met her gaze steadily. "Age doesn't change the value of what I'm offering, Minister. Your Aurors face dangerous situations daily. I respect their work too much to undersell tools that could save their lives."
A glimmer of what might have been approval flashed in her amber eyes. "The Italian Ministry will order one hundred Sentinel Edition talismans, with the understanding that those delivered after the one year mark will include the communication feature you've described."
"Vittoria!" Fudge exclaimed, abandoning all pretense of formality. "Surely you'd want to test a smaller batch first—"
"Minister Fudge," she cut him off with a smile that held no warmth, "while I appreciate your concern for Italian gold, we prefer to make our own procurement decisions. Mr. Potter's talismans have demonstrated remarkable effectiveness in British Auror operations, according to the reports Madam Bones was kind enough to share."
Amelia Bones nodded confirmation, the ghost of a satisfied smile playing at the corners of her mouth.
"We'll have the contracts prepared immediately," Minister Lombardi continued, signaling to her Undersecretary. "Mr. Potter, given your school schedule, how would you propose handling the production timeline?"
"Production can continue through the school year," Harry explained. "I've established a working relationship with Professor Flitwick at Hogwarts, who supervises the enchantment process for safety reasons, and Mister Ted handles all business aspects on my behalf."
Minister Lombardi nodded, satisfied. "Excellent. And speaking of education, Mr. Potter, I believe you might benefit from exposure to different magical traditions. Your talisman work shows influences primarily from British enchantment theory, but Italian magical crafting has its own rich heritage."
She withdrew a small, ornate card from her robes and slid it across the table to Harry. It featured an intricate illustration of a floating city that seemed to be Venice, but with ethereal towers and bridges that couldn't exist in the Muggle world.
"I would like to extend an invitation for you to visit L'Accademia Arcana di Venezia—The Arcane Academy of Venice—next summer. Our artificers could offer perspectives that might further enhance your craft, and I believe you would find the experience... illuminating."
Harry picked up the card, feeling the subtle hum of magic within it. "I'm honored by the invitation, Minister Lombardi. I would be delighted to accept."
"Excellent! I shall make the arrangements personally." She rose from her seat, signaling an end to the meeting. "My Undersecretary will coordinate with Mr. Tonks regarding delivery schedules and payment terms."
As the meeting concluded and people began to disperse into smaller conversations, Fudge made one last attempt to engage Minister Lombardi. "Perhaps now we might enjoy that wine, Vittoria? I could give you a personal tour of some of our more... exclusive Ministry departments."
Minister Lombardi's smile was polite but glacial. "I'm afraid I have another appointment, Minister Fudge. Perhaps another time." She turned to Harry, her expression warming. "Mr. Potter, it has been a genuine pleasure. I look forward to seeing how your talents develop in the coming years."
"The pleasure was mine, Minister," Harry replied, a little annoyed that her beauty and smile were causing his face to turn a little red.
As Minister Lombardi and her delegation departed, followed by a dejected-looking Fudge, Amelia Bones approached Harry and Ted.
"That," she said quietly, "was exceptionally well handled, Mr. Potter. Minister Lombardi is not easily impressed."
"Thank you, Madam Bones," Harry replied. "I just tried to be honest about what my talismans can do."
Amelia's monocle glinted in the enchanted light. "And modest, too. An unusual combination. You're developing a reputation, you know—not just for your talismans, but for your approach to business."
Ted placed a proud hand on Harry's shoulder. "He's learning quickly."
"Indeed." Amelia gave Harry a subtle nod of approval. "Keep that ethical foundation as you grow, Mr. Potter. It will serve you better than any amount of political maneuvering in the long run."
As they made their way back through the Ministry, Harry couldn't help but feel a curious mixture of pride and trepidation. The business side of his life was expanding rapidly, bringing new opportunities like the invitation to Venice, but also new responsibilities. And all this before he'd even started his second year at Hogwarts.
I wonder what Hedwig would think of Italy, he mused as they entered the lift. And how exactly am I going to explain to Itisa that I'll be leaving her behind for a summer visit to an Italian magical academy?
Something told him the disguised Nundu would not take that news well at all. Well, he could bring her with him, right?
September First
Platform Nine and Three-Quarters buzzed with the familiar chaos of September 1st—tearful goodbyes, excited reunions, the screech of owls, and the hiss of steam from the scarlet engine. Harry maneuvered through the crowd, Itisa draped across his shoulders like a living stole, her golden eyes surveying the commotion with aristocratic disdain.
"Remember to write more than once a month this year," Andromeda said, straightening Harry's already impeccable collar. "And try not to create any magical items that might concern the Ministry."
"Lady Andromeda," Harry replied with mock solemnity, "when have I ever caused the Ministry concern?"
Ted snorted. "She means no potentially catastrophic magical experiments without proper supervision, lad."
"That takes half the fun out of it," Harry quipped, though he nodded his agreement. After the talisman negotiations with Minister Lombardi, he had a newfound appreciation for maintaining good Ministry relations—at least until his Venetian summer education provided new avenues of magical crafting that might skirt British regulations.
Nymphadora, resplendent in her Hogwarts robes with a gleaming prefect badge, rolled her eyes. "Don't encourage him, Dad. Last year he turned everyone's robes into the wrong House colors for three days."
"A harmless prank," Harry protested. "Besides, some of those Ravenclaws looked quite dashing in green."
The train whistle blew, signaling five minutes until departure. Hugs were exchanged, final reminders given, and Harry found himself being shepherded onto the train by Nymphadora, whose hair was cycling through excited shades of blue and purple.
"I've got to go to the prefect compartment for the meeting," she told him, already backing down the corridor. "Find a place to sit, and try not to antagonize any Malfoys before we even reach Hogwarts, yeah?"
"I make no promises if he antagonizes me first," Harry called after her retreating form, earning a warning look before she disappeared around a corner.
Left to his own devices, Harry began the traditional quest for a compartment, preferably one containing friends. Itisa adjusted her position slightly, her tail curling possessively around the back of his neck.
"Yes, I know," Harry murmured to her. "Crowded trains are beneath your dignity. We'll find somewhere quiet soon."
Students parted before him—some with friendly waves, others with curious stares, and a few with outright suspicion. The Potter Talismans had created quite a stir, and Harry had noticed a shift in how people regarded him. No longer just the Boy-Who-Lived, he was now also Harry-Who-Makes-Magical-Things, which was, in his opinion, a vast improvement.
Midway down the train, Harry's attention was drawn to a peculiar sight. A small girl with waist-length, silvery-blonde hair stood outside a compartment, holding what appeared to be a magazine upside down. What struck Harry most was not this unusual reading method but the girl's eyes—large, pale, and slightly protuberant, giving her a permanently surprised look.
As Harry watched, the girl knocked politely on the compartment door, which slid open to reveal a group of older Ravenclaw girls.
"Hello," the blonde girl said in a dreamy, sing-song voice. "Would you mind terribly if I joined you? The other compartments seem to be full of Wrackspurts."
The Ravenclaws exchanged glances that Harry recognized immediately—the universal look of students confronted with someone they deemed strange and therefore unwelcome.
"Sorry," one said, not sounding sorry at all, "we're saving these seats for friends."
"Oh, I could be your friend," the girl suggested brightly.
Another Ravenclaw smirked. "We've already got enough, thanks."
The door slid shut with unnecessary force, leaving the girl standing alone in the corridor. Remarkably, she didn't seem particularly bothered by the rejection, merely turning her attention back to her upside-down magazine with mild interest.
Harry felt a flash of annoyance. Having spent his early childhood as the weird, unwanted kid, he had little patience for casual cruelty.
"Hey," he called, approaching the girl. "Are you looking for a place to sit?"
The girl looked up, her large, pale eyes focusing on him. "Oh, hello. Yes, I was, though I'm not particularly worried. Things have a way of working out, don't they?"
"Usually," Harry agreed. "I'm Harry Potter. Would you like to come find a compartment with me?"
"That would be lovely," she replied, showing no reaction whatsoever to his name, and didn't even try to look at his scar—a refreshing change from the usual wide-eyed recognition. "I'm Luna Lovegood."
"Nice to meet you, Luna. First year?"
She nodded, falling into step beside him as they continued down the corridor. "Yes. Daddy nearly forgot to pack my trunk this morning because he was distracted by a potential Snorkack sighting in the garden, but it turned out to be a peculiarly shaped zucchini."
Harry blinked, momentarily unsure how to respond. "That's... unfortunate. About the Snorkack, I mean. Not the zucchini."
"Oh, it happens quite often," Luna said airily. "Snorkacks are very elusive. Daddy says they're the unicorns of the cryptozoological world."
As they walked, Harry noticed Luna was studying Itisa with fascination, though the disguised Nundu was pointedly ignoring her in return.
They found an empty compartment near the end of the train, and Harry slid the door open, gesturing for Luna to enter first. She drifted in with a movement that was almost a dance, settling by the window and immediately returning to her upside-down magazine—which Harry now saw was titled "The Quibbler."
"Is there a reason you're reading that upside down?" Harry asked as he took the seat opposite her, gently lifting Itisa from his shoulders and setting her on the empty space beside him.
Luna peered at him over the top (or rather, bottom) of the magazine. "Oh yes. Daddy publishes all sorts of hidden messages in The Quibbler. You can only see some of them when you read upside down, others when you read it by moonlight, and a few when you hold it in front of a mirror while standing on one foot."
"That seems... complicated."
"The truth often is," Luna agreed solemnly. "Would you like to borrow it when I'm finished? There's a fascinating article about how Cornelius Fudge has a secret army of Heliopaths."
"Heliopaths?"
"Spirits of fire," Luna explained, lowering her magazine. "Great tall flaming creatures that gallop across the ground burning everything in front of them."
Harry considered this claim with more seriousness than most would have afforded it. After all, in a world where dragons and three-headed dogs existed, who was to say Heliopaths didn't? Though the idea of Fudge commanding anything more fearsome than his paperwork seemed rather implausible.
"I think I'd have heard if Fudge had fire spirits at his disposal," Harry said diplomatically. "Though I suppose the Ministry keeps plenty of secrets."
"Oh yes," Luna agreed. "Daddy says the Department of Mysteries breeds all sorts of things people aren't meant to know about. He's been trying to get an interview with an Unspeakable for years, but they're very, well, unspeakable about the whole thing."
Harry couldn't help but smile. There was something new about Luna's matter-of-fact acceptance of the extraordinary, even if her version of 'extraordinary' seemed mainly confined to her own imagination.
"You have a very unusual pet," Luna observed suddenly, her gaze shifting to Itisa, who had been pretending to doze while covertly studying the strange girl.
"She's just a cat," Harry replied automatically. "A bit large, but nothing special."
Luna tilted her head, her silvery eyes meeting Itisa's golden ones directly. "She's a very beautiful Nundu. I've never seen one up close before."
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