Chapter 12: Negotiations

Barrister Spectre's Office, a week after the attack

There was but one thing Spectre could boast of in his professional career – his, until recently, untarnished track record. Being a barrister was tough in the magical world. There were no law schools or professors or even a board exam. That, of course, meant that, in effect, meant anyone could practice. The lack of restrictions or even qualifications for the job ensured that there was plenty of competition. To make thing even worse, many ignorant folks decided that hiring a Barrister wasn't all that important since anybody could do it. To hell if their legal representative actually knew, much less understood, what he was dealing with!

Things weren't all bad though. A few very wealthy individuals had enough brain cells to comprehend that competent lawyers could make all the difference in the courtrooms. The small circle of barristers who actually bothered to study the antiquated and sometimes self-contradictory laws of magical Britain thrived on the generosity of their wealthy patrons. Of course, it meant that in their circle, the only rule was survival to the fittest. Barristers would compete mercilessly to gain the favor of a patron, as these were often few and far between.

To deal professionally in the law business, one needed an edge to ensure they would remain in the good graces of the wealthy. For Spectre, it had always been his record. Ever since he had entered the arena of rhetoric, he had remained undefeated. Every case he handled, he won, or, at the very least, gained a favorable compromise! Every man and woman who dared to face him in the field of legal battle was crucified before the Wizengamot! Every client of his…well, you get the point.

Suffice to say when news broke out that he had been defeated for the first time in his career, more than a few of his clients had left him. He was no longer undefeated. When news broke out that he had been beaten by a child, he became the laughing stock among his colleagues. In one fell swoop, he had lost everything. And it was all because of the Potter brat.

"Get out." said Spectre, his hands shaking from anger.

"Come now, Barris-" said Harry, twirling his wand absently in one hand.

"Get. Out. Now." hissed Spectre, his eyes lowered in a dangerous manner.

Harry sighed, and tucked his wand away. "Listen, Mr. Spectre. I'm sorry about having ruined your perfect record, but understand that you were taking on a hopeless case! Gilderoy, despite being a marketing genius, is utterly incapable of a little discretion." apologized Harry, a sheepish grin plastered onto his face. "You should know. You had to represent the man legally, after all."

Spectre refrained from commenting, though he inwardly agreed with Potter.

"That said, I've come here with a proposition in mind."

Spectre's ears perked up, though his face remained impassive. Then again, he mused, business was business. "You have my attention."

Harry nodded thankfully. "You've heard of T.G.R., I take it?" asked Harry. The man nodded his head, and Harry continued. "Well, they've made me an offer for one of my inventions, the Potter gloves."

"The Potter gloves?" repeated Spectre, his brows furrowed. Harry removed the one he was wearing, and handed it to him to examine. "What does it do?" asked Spectre curiously, his finger tracing one of the intricate runes.

"It can stop spells midair and dissipate their magic." replied Harry. "I've been working on a variation of that rune chain recently with the hopes that it can absorb spells instead then redirect them at a later time."

"Did it work?" asked Spectre eagerly, his curiosity overcoming his anger.

"Yes, though it could do with some improvements" said Harry, looking at his glove critically. "Making it store and redirect magic overloads the rune chain in a few minutes, and any spell that's stronger than an 'Expelliarmus' causes the runes to explode." Harry unconsciously rubbed his left hand as he reminisced on that incident.

"Quite an invention for your age." said Spectre, handing back the glove, before a frown graced his features. "I fail to see how your gloves and T.G.R. Holdings relate to me, however."

"They've offered me a rather tempting deal, in my opinion. I'm perfectly fine with mincing words and rubbing shoulders with these men, but I'm utterly hopeless at contracts." said Harry. "I've never had the…temperament to bother reading through them."

Spectre crossed his arms in front of his chest. "So you want me to handle them for you."

"Correct," said Harry.

"Are you aware, boy, of just how much you damaged my reputation?" asked Spectre, his tone now decidedly hostile.

"I am," said Harry, raising his hand to stop Spectre from continuing. "and I think you're looking at this the wrong way."

Spectre titled his head at him, as if to ask "How so?"

"How do you think people will react when they hear that I, Harry Potter, the only wizard alive to have ever beaten you at court, asked you to be his barrister?"

"They'd think you were making a mockery out of me." growled Spectre.

"Maybe at first," conceded Harry, "but they'll also realize I'd only do so because I considered you the best. Think about it." Harry leaned forward, locking eyes with Spectre. "Why would I hire you if I've shown I could beat you, unless you're too good to not hire for a job this important."

Spectre leaned into his chair, a thoughtful look etched onto his face. "You've got a silver tongue, Mr. Potter," he began, "but you've also made a valid point. Let's talk terms then."

"I'll pay you your standard fee, of course, and you'll get a commission if the deal pushes through. Two percent from the down payment for the use of my equation."

Spectre paused. It was a good deal, but he knew he could afford to press his luck. He shook his head. "Double my fee, and I'll reduce my commission to one point five percent." He haggled.

"Double the fee?"

"My honor demands it." He explained with a shrug.

Harry frowned. The point of the commission was to give the man an incentive to make sure his client wasn't getting screwed over in a deal. "Forego the fee, and I'll increase the commission to three percent."

Spectre scoffed. "Forego the fee? I'm not about to take on a deal without even some assurance of payment if the deal doesn't push through. Double my fee, disregard the commission entirely."

"Without a commission, how do I know you won't purposely just screw me over?" asked Harry rhetorically. "Five percent commission, no fee."

Spectre hesitated. It was a good counteroffer, provided that the deal actually pushed through. Of course, he had no idea if it would. He wasn't a bloody seer and he refused to take such a risk, and he needed the money to settle some of his outstanding debt. "Double my fee, no commission and an oath."

Harry pondered on it, before speaking. "Agreed."

As they shook hands, Spectre couldn't help but to ask. "Not that it's my concern, but where will you get the money to pay me? It might take some time, after all, before the galleons can be counted, so to speak."

"Lockhart has it covered." said Harry. "One of the many, many stipulations of his community service."

Spectre snorted. "I've read that contract. It sounds more like indenture really."

"Thankfully, the Ministry doesn't have anything against that either." replied Harry.

"True enough." said Spectre, before he sighed. "Lockhart really is a bit daft when it comes to these things, isn't he? Didn't he read the part where you could chuck him back into Azkaban at any time for more or less any reason?"

"He signed the contract without bothering to bargain a little, and believed me when I said it was non-negotiable." said Harry. "That should say plenty of the level of intelligence the man has."

"Indeed…" muttered Spectre, "so tell me, how did you come about this deal?"

"I'm sure you must have read of the Oxford attack in the papers. I was rescued by a man named Augustus, head of security for T.M.R.. He handed me a portkey to meet his boss, and that, as they say, is history."

Spectre scratched his chin thoughtfully. "You took a portkey from a man you just met, to a place you've never been to – alone and without adult consent. That's certainly reckless of you." He chided. "Hasn't your mother ever taught you not to accept candies from a stranger?"

Harry frowned. "That's just it. I felt…compelled to accept the portkey. Half the time, I felt my body move on its own volition." Frustrated, Harry ran his hands over his hair. "Believe me, I knew something was wrong. The way things played out at first, you'd think I was being sent off to join a prostitution ring, or to star in a porno." Harry joked dryly, despite the seriousness of the conversation. "All the physical hints that I was under compulsion were present…except…"

"Except?" pressed Spectre. "Except what?"

"Except nothing showed up in a magical scan." said Harry, perturbed. "I used a rune chain to check myself as soon as I got out of the office. It showed fatigue, physical and magical. It took into account post traumatic stress disorder." Harry sighed. "No sign of compulsion, however."

Spectre frowned. "Runes are an archaic method though."

"True enough." conceded Harry with a nod. "But I got myself checked by Madam Pomfrey, the school Healer, as soon as I reached Hogwarts. She gave me an earful about taking better care of myself." said Harry, a mirthful smirk tugging on his lips. "And when I asked when there was any tampering with my head, you know what she said?"

"No tampering." Spectre supplied unnecessarily.

"Ding! Ding! Ding!" shouted Harry sarcastically, mimicking a bell. "We have a winner."

"Perhaps she got it wrong?"

"She's one of the best Healers in the country." Harry pointed out. "Plus, I even went to St. Mungo's to get myself double checked, just in case. They said the same thing." He massaged his temple. "I've tried everything I could think of to find out what those people did to me. Potions, charms, runes, Healer Checks…nothing shows up! It's driving me crazy."

"Is it possible that you were just incredibly reckless on that day, and in a moment of youthful stupidity, you accepted the portkey?" asked Spectre.

"I'm certain of what I felt." replied Harry, unamused.

"Yet, you still wish to deal with these people after you suspect them of foul play?" asked Spectre skeptically.

"None of the tests showed anything. If I brought it up, they'd deny it of course. The deal they offered me was pretty good, and basically they want to throw money at me for one of my formulas so they can resell it to the Ministry. I'm not sure about you, but I haven't heard of any other companies in the same field as them. So even if they placed some sort of charm on me, it didn't do anything aside from ensure they would get the rights to market my invention earlier, even if they have no competitors. That's what bothers me about the whole thing. They don't seem to have a clear motive."

"I'd like to point out that you've shared this secret with me, a man who has good reason to hate you. I think that you actually were just very reckless, and you're letting paranoia get to you." said Spectre.

"Am I?" mused Harry, looking the man in the eye. "Am I really reckless for telling all this to you, when I know for a fact I'm now covered by a confidentiality agreement. Anything you share to anyone outside this room, without my expressed approval automatically forfeits your life. At least, that's what's written on the sign above the door I just came through. That confidentiality is one of the reasons I chose you, after all."

Spectre raised a brow. "Most people don't notice that."

"I'm not most people." replied Harry. "I may need to brush up on my magical contracts a little, but I know enough that that sign just made it binding on you."

"You're observant, I'll give you that. What is it you want me to do?"

"Find out anything you can while negotiating the finer points of the contract, Mr. Spectre. I'll give a one percent commission on top of your fees as a bonus for this…unorthodox service."

"I'll keep an ear out for anything that might slip." promised Spectre.

Great Hall, Hogwarts, February 17, 1994

"The conquering hero finally returns." said Hannah, taking a seat besides Harry. "Welcome back."

Harry turned away from the apple he was just about to consume to give her a confused look. "I've been back for a week now." He pointed out.

Hannah snorted. "Yeah, but in the past week, you've spent more time outside the school then in it." Her face softened for a second. "Are you alright?"

Harry took a bite from his apple, savoring the flavor as he chewed, before swallowing. "As well as I can be, I suppose." he replied. "Anything interesting happen while I was busy?"

"Without you around, life has been peaceful here." said Hannah, a wry smirk gracing her features. "Just goes to show how society is much better off without having you around. Dumbledore even got around to mentioning another challenge considering how boring things were getting. Where have you been anyway?"

"St. Mungo's mostly," replied Harry, taking note of the worried look on Hannah's face, "the Healer's assure me I'll be fine though, with a little rest. The strange thing is that they want me to go back there later this week so they can run anther battery of tests on me." Harry shook his head. "It's really quite a hassle."

"They just want to make sure that you'll be alright, Harry." said Hannah. "You're practically a celebrity in your own rights nowadays with the amount of publicity you're getting." She handed him a copy of the Prophet. "See for yourself." Harry grabbed it with both hands, his apple now forgotten.

T.G.R. SUMMIT HOLDINGS INC. TO PURCHASE HARRY POTTER'S INVENTION

Lucius Malfoy, head of T.G.R.'s public relations office, announced early this morning of its intention to purchase an as of yet unnamed invention by Harry Potter.

Malfoy released a statement along with the announcement. "We plan to integrate this remarkable device as part of T.G.R.'s arsenal in the fight against the Dark Lord's remaining followers. Their latest attack at Oxford Stadium clearly shows that these Death Eaters aren't quite as pacified as we have been led to believe. This incident has convinced us of the need to broaden our offensive gear and this new invention will be the first of many purchases by our company."

Amelia Bones, head of the DMLE, applauded T.G.R.'s initiative in this matter. "T.G.R. has been a firm and committed ally of the Ministry ever since the outbreak of war against the Dark Lord. They have been the source of much funding and equipment to the DMLE, and the Auror Department especially, in our efforts to contain his followers. I've been invited to see the effects of this gear, and I agree that it will be an excellent addition to the Aurors."

The final stages of negotiation are taking place at T.G.R Headquarters in Diagon Alley as lawyers from both parties settle the last few details. Surprisingly enough, Michael Spectre was revealed to be Harry Potter's legal representative in the talks.

TGR's History, page 2.
New Ministry Protocols, page 5.

Harry skimmed through the whole thing without even a flicker of emotion showing. Though uninformed by TGR of the interview, he had expected it to happen as a way to prevent him from backing out. With now two respected individuals backing the deal, he'd be crucified the moment he tried, perhaps even be charged with treason for refusing to aid the government. It had certainly happened before.

TGR wanted his formula, and they wanted it badly. Harry just didn't know what for.

"How many people in Hogwarts have read this?" asked Harry, putting the paper down.

"Everyone" was Hannah's quick reply. "You're the talk of the school now." she informed him, swiveling in her chair so that her back was to the table.

"What are they saying about me?"

"If they're to be believed, you are now, apparently, Merlin incarnate." said Hannah, making no attempts to stifle her own amusement.

"Dumbledore will be disappointed to know that I've stolen the title from him." said Harry, frowning. "Please tell me not everyone believes this ridiculous gossip?" he asked, almost pleaded really.

"It's mostly the third years and lower who think so." said Hannah reassuringly. "Although that doesn't mean that the rest of the school doesn't think more highly of your little toys now." She tilted her head towards his gloves, which were fitted tightly on his hands. "If you didn't have their curiosity the first dozen times you used them, you certainly have it now."

Harry's frown deepened. "Perhaps I should keep these in my trunk in the meantime." said Harry, pulling off his gloves. "I'd rather not give people more reason to pester me about them."

"It's odd that you, someone who's done nothing but garner attention in your short stay here, is now shying away from the same." she commented, eyeing him quizzically.

"Everything in moderation." he answered sagely. "Too much attention is just as bad as too little attention. Case in point, Neville Longbottom." he gestured to the Gryffindor table with his hand.

"I fail to see how he makes a good case."

"Have you seen his grade?" asked Harry critically. "He's flunking half his subjects. The other half he's doing a little better than Goyle!" exclaimed Harry, exasperated. "In fact, the only subject he seems to excel in right now is Herbology."

"Harry…you do realize we are talking about a thirteen year old boy here." she said pointedly. "What did you expect from him?"

"Being at least good at DADA maybe? We are talking about the kid who defeated Voldemort here."

Hannah paused, and stared intently at Harry, her face scrunching up. "Who the bloody hell is Voldemort?"

Harry raised a brow. "Voldemort, the Dark Lord of course. Who did Neville beat when he was a baby? How else did he get his scar except by surviving the killing curse?" explained Harry heatedly.

Hannah shook her head slowly. "Harry, I think your fight did a number on your head." She looked him in the eye. "Neville got his scar by surviving the killing curse, but it was the Dark Lord Lorwick who he vanquished. I'm not aware of any dark lords named Voldemort in the last decade."

Harry's eyes widened. "That's…that's impossible." He muttered to himself. He pushed himself up and hurried away, attracting bewildered looks from those around him.

"Harry! Where are you going?" Hannah called out to his retreating figure, to no avail. "Harry!" she called out, and again there was no response. She stood up to follow him, but by the time she had reached the double doors of the Great Hall, he was nowhere to be found.

Sighing, she made her way back into the hall to eat breakfast, leaving her friend time to sort things out for himself.

Harry Potter did not show up for his classes that morning.

Headmaster's Office

Albus Dumbledore walked, while humming a jaunty tune, up the staircase leading to his office. Upon reaching the top of the stairs, he was quite surprised to find it already open. A peek inside the room showed the Headmaster's chair had been turned around so that only a familiar mop of unkempt raven hair was showing. "A student beats me to my own chair in the morning." stated Dumbledore merrily, walking into the room. "Thinking of replacing me already, Mr. Potter?"

Harry swiveled around to face his Headmaster. "Wouldn't dream of it sir. Not with all the problems a Headmaster has to deal with. No, I'd prefer to be on the school board myself. Ruling from the shadows and all that rot."

"An excellent plan, Mr. Potter. I'm sure you'll do quite well as a member of the board in the future. However, I doubt I will retain my post for that long." said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling still. "So what brings you to my office so early in the morning, Harry? Did a teacher send you? Because I must say, it's quite a feat for a student to be sent to the Headmaster's office when classes haven't even started. Even your father and his friends never managed it themselves. This must be some sort of record." Dumbledore looked mildly excited at the prospect.

"I think my mum would kill me if I managed that." replied Harry.

"I take it that's a no then?" asked Dumbledore, his tone a little disappointed for some reason. "What's the matter then?"

"It concerns the Dark Lord, sir." said Harry, leaning closer as if to whisper something in his ear. "In the second year, what really happened?" he asked in a low voice.

Dumbledore frowned. "I'm not certain that this is information I should share with you, Harry. You are still young and to burden you with such would by cruel of me. He isn't your problem."

"Yet, he is." retorted Harry. "Like it or not, I'm past a point of no return. He knows of me, and what's more, he seems interested in me. This unwanted attention has made me, and by extension, my family, a target."

"A slight interest, while the cause of concern, does not necessitate drastic action. What you're asking me to tell you will compromise your safety. As your Headmaster, I cannot, in good conscience, allow that to happen."

"Do you know what the point of the Oxford attack was?" asked Harry.

"I'm afraid there were no Death Eaters that were captured. The Aurors were unable to determine their objective. All we have to go on is speculation."

"They were after me." stated Harry plainly. "No need to hide it, sir. It's obvious enough. Capture on sight – those were their orders."

"What makes you say so?" Dumbledore stroked his beard in a contemplative manner.

"No lethal spells when fighting me or my family. My dad only gets knocked out rather than killed." said Harry, counting them with his fingers. "A foiled attempt to transport him out of the stadium. Death Eaters actively trying to capture me and special effort was placed in trying to find me." He curled his fingers back into a fist. "Those men were definitely after me."

"You've made your point." conceded Dumbledore. "There's not much you wouldn't know about what had transpired. You did manage to piece enough together to discover Gilderoy's deception, after all."

"What happened to the diary?"

"Destroyed, by Basilisk venom."

"Did you see it yourself?" pressed Harry.

Dumbledore nodded. "I did. What remained of it was destroyed by fiendfyre, just to be on the safe side."

"Is Tom Riddle the Dark Lord Lorwick?"

Dumbledore paused again, raising a brow at the sudden shift in topic. "He is not, Mr. Potter."

"Then who is Tom Riddle?" he demanded imperiously.

"I dare say you've already met him recently, Harry."

This time, it was Harry's turn to pause. "What?"

Dumbledore nodded. "T.G.R. Thomas Gaunt-Riddle. Or Tom, for short. Quite interesting that he didn't include his middle name, Marvalo and opted for his mother's maiden name instead."

"How is he not in prison." his fist banging onto the desk angrily."That was a hor-horrible," he managed to catch himself from saying 'horcrux', "work of magic. Clearly it was a construct of the dark arts, sir. Why wasn't he chucked into Azkaban?"

He sighed. "At the time, he claimed it was created to be a weapon against the Death Eaters - a way to infiltrate their ranks and destroy them from the inside. It was one of many scrapped projects that were stolen from TGR over the years. An investigation revealed that a Death Eater had planted it in the school."

"Pardon the language sir, but that's a load of bull. It was his persona that opened the Chamber of Secrets. It was his persona that possessed Ginny Weasley. What did he have to say to that, sir?"

"The Death Eaters had modified his work, or so he claims. In any case, one must understand that at the time, he was already quite an influential man in his own right and TGR had made a significant contribution in the fight against Lorwick and the Death Eaters. Even if he was responsible, the Minister was quite willing to pardon him for any alleged crimes so pushing the issue would have been moot."

Harry's eyes pierced Dumbledore like a scalpel. "What do you believe sir?"

"His explanation, while dubious, is certainly within the realm of possibilities. Lorwick's followers would have been looking for an opportunity at the time to create a split between the Ministry and TGR, which were beginning to show signs of working more closely together." explained the aged Headmaster. "In any case, TGR has been the subject of many attacks, magical and political. Always a scheme concocted by the Death Eaters."

"You seem to be trying to convince yourself more than me, sir."

"Tom has made some bad choice in life; that much I can see. However, for all his faults, he has done much good as well. Is it so wrong to want to think the best of my own apprentice?" he asked rhetorically. "Perhaps it is. Perhaps it is my pride, or my emotions that cloud my judgment of him." His eyes moistened a little. "I loved Tom like a son." he confessed.

"What happened between the two of you?" asked Harry, sensing that there was more to the story.

"After that incident, I confronted Tom about it. He said that I did not trust him enough and we had an argument. No. To call it an argument would be to call a Nundu a house pet. It was a falling apart. Tom and I didn't speak months. Even now, we barely speak to each other at all, when we were once the closer than kin." Dumbledore reminisced sadly.

Dumbledore stood, and looked at the clock on his wall. "It's getting quite late, Harry, and you've missed your morning classes entirely." he chided. "Your professors will be quite upset with you."

"All I had was Arithmancy and Ancient Runes. Considering how my gloves are about to be marketed, I think my professors are more upset I wasn't around to be interrogated rather than attending class itself." said Harry, decidedly apathetic towards the two subjects in question.

"Education is not always something one gains from class lessons. Dealing with these scenarios give you valuable experience to draw on when faced with similar circumstances in the future. Speaking of experiences, have you given any thought to joining the next challenge?"

"I don't think I'd have the time, sir."

"A shame, Harry. I think you might rather enjoy this one. It's a treasure hunt, of sorts, and it will help an adventurous lad like you find something to do in this old castle." said Dumbledore.

"I'll consider it, Headmaster. I'll be going now, sir."

Potter,

By now you must have read the papers already. The negotiations have been published, and they've basically made it impossible for us to back out now. A clever move really.

Still, they've taken away one of our best options yet, which is to simply walk away from the table (if need be) to demand a higher price. Their lawyers are no pushovers. They know what they're doing alright, and trying to pry information from them has been difficult, to say the least. That said, the best we can settle for at this point, by my estimates, will be 60,000 Galleons. In all likelihood though, we'll get 50,000 instead. A quarter of a million muggle pounds ain't a shabby price for your formula.

I'll be joining them for drinks later tonight to see if they let anything slip.

Spectre

AN: And the Plot Thickens...

1) Harry is a little on the edge in this chapter. That is intentional, and I suppose the reason why there's less humor in this chapter.