Pack!

Chapter Seven

               (note – For my purposes the bank is an extremely well built marble structure, no odd angles, same idea for the rest of Diagon – still very Medieval/Victorian/Edwardian looking, but no wonky buildings.)

               After a half hour or so of silent contemplation shared by Remus, and the elves busy amongst themselves, Harry finally spoke. “Yeah, but what am I gonna do with a bank, Remus? I mean, of course I’m beyond grateful to the goblins, but the bank building isn’t going to help when we leave. Your Pack! spell is completely awesome, but it can’t pack up a building.”

               Hat spoke for the first time beyond their morning greeting. “Ah… my apologies for interjecting myself into your conversation but would that be the Pack! spell created by Phineas Nigellus Black in the 1880’s? As I recall, he started in on it when he planned to divorce his wife and wanted her and her belongings out the door with little trouble to himself. He did go on and on about it rather incessantly when he should have been focused on the 1887 budget notes. Quite an interesting spell concept, though he never demonstrated it for me. Such a pity he never published, but you say you found a record of it? I do hope the answer is yes, because that puts a very, very different light on the tête-à-tête that Hogwarts and I have been having.”

               Remus turned an enquiring look on the hat. “I found it quite a few years back noted in the margins of a reference book. Between myself, Harry’s father James, and Sirius Black,” he wasn’t including Peter Pettigrew on principle, “we studied it enough to sort it out. It takes everything in the room that’s “yours” and packs it into whatever trunks you supply, smallest to largest. Is that the spell you’re asking about?”

               “Oh, that is his spell. Well done, Mister Lupin, well done indeed! It seems we shall need to have quite the discussion, and the sooner the better. I suggest you take a seat, and would recommend taking notes, as you now have a unique opportunity before you. Mister Lupin, your perspective as a slightly older wizard will be very useful and Taddy here,” The elf turned at his name and came over to join the conversation, “will supply the elven perspective and practical expertise. Hogwarts and I will be the remaining conversationalists as we commence.”

               “To begin, and to clarify why the rediscovery of the Pack! spell is so very useful in these interesting times: Your understanding of the spell is that it captures your belongings and moves them to your trunk, correct?” When both Remus and Harry agreed, he continues on. “Yes indeed, but the spell was meant to do more than your description. It was meant to collect everything you own, within the footprint of the building you activate it in.” Harry looked thoughtful for a minute, and asked “Is that what it was meant to do, or what it actually does? How would we confirm the theory? I’m already packed up and so is Remus. Neville will check in eventually, but he doesn’t own much in his own right.”

               The hat hummed thoughtfully for a moment. “Mister Lupin, do you by chance own any property that has a structure on it?” Remus nodded and said he owned his parents’ summer cottage, although the house was in very bad condition and not liveable. “Well, there you have it, that shall be your test,” said Hat. Harry and Remus traded looks, not understanding. Hat saw the look and elaborated. “Mister Lupin, you own that house. Go Pack! it.”

               Remus protested, “Wait, you mean… Pack! the building? The actual structure itself? But the spell has never worked like that, it’s never packed the building where I used it, only the things within the building.”

               Hat sighed as much as a hat could. “Mister Lupin, that spell was created by a very irritating and unlikeable man who nevertheless had the Black gifts with arithmancy and ancient runes, both of which are wonderfully applicable in spell creation. It does seem unfair he was rather gifted with transfiguration as well, but as it has resulted in something very much to your benefit right now, I suppose we should remember him a bit more kindly. I’m quite sure it functions as intended, as it once packedhis house. It left his wife, his mother in law, and their belongings sitting on the lawn while he picked up the house and carried it back to the school. I was forced to listen to the tale for years. With that being said, have you ever, at any point, cast the spell within a house you own? If you require visual proof, go test the spell. Once you’ve independently verified it works, young Harry and yourself should extrapolate that thought to Gringotts and the fact that once all goblins have left Britain, you will own the bank.”

               Remus settled back with a weak “Oh,”, and Harry went slightly catatonic.

               He shortly roused himself to ask, “So… how many trunks do you think it’s going to take Pack! Gringotts?” He was somewhat unnerved at the thought of all that stone. And… “And yeah, still have a question about what am I going to do with it once we get wherever?”

               “One trunk, and one trunk only, Mister Potter, and that’s only if you don’t wish to carry the bank around tucked under your arm. If the spell detects ownership of the structure, the entire building is shrunk as is. If you don’t own the building, the spell will pull out what is yours, shrinking things as it can, and move them to the nearest open trunk. The building component of the spell is what involves that bit of transfiguration. Pack!ing a building will result in a stasis held miniature of said building, approximately 12 inches tall, encased in an unbreakable glass box. The box portion of the spell was added after Phinneas set his house on his desk in the headmaster’s office. Shortly thereafter, a small incident involving a snidget and a niffler resulted in the house’s near destruction. He was able to repair it, but complained that afterwards the plumbing never worked quite right, neither could he locate his sock drawer.”

               Hat sounded satisfied when he spoke again. “And so we get to the heart of our discussion. Mister Potter, I believe you have a fair amount of gold on hand. I suggest investing it in your future. This would be a fine time to be heading to Diagon Alley, where if you reach out to the property owners, it would be quite convenient for them to sell you their premises. Currently, they will realize no profit from the structures, you could obtain the entire alley for a song. Pack! them up. You then have a ready built village as your infrastructure. You have your finance arm. You have the opportunity to choose what would like your initial village industry to be. Manufacturing, Financial Services, Magical Innovation, Agriculture, Transportation, Textiles, you have your choice, and you have the opportunity to fully arm yourself in your chosen fields, so when you arrive to your new location, you can establish yourself as a commercial hub, bringing you and yours to the forefront. You will have the opportunity to shape that field and guide it in ways that will benefit and not harm. You could have a real impact and leave a lasting legacy.”

               Harry looked over at Remus and they both considered Hat’s words. What could he change? What things about here did he like least and if he had the opportunity to change, what one thing would he do first? He remembered a line from a movie that Dudley had once watched while he listened from his closet. “The world went and got itself in a big damn hurry.” He remembered hearing that Tolkien once said he wished the internal combustion engine had never been invented. He wasn’t so sure moving faster than a slow jog was in and of itself a problem, but concrete and asphalt were sometimes all he ever saw in Surrey, never mind London. Surely they could make an impact if they took on Transportation? Or Agriculture, the opportunities there seemed wide open and played more to basics, he thought. But Transportation… Oh, what magic could do there. The problem was that he had none of the expertise or experience in any of the above. Sure he had basic ideas, but that in no way translated to being able to make potential industry wide decisions. He looked up from his internal debate at Remus, who shook his head and shrugged. He didn’t have a starting point, either. He looked at Taddy, who offered “We’s is going to be thirteen elveses, and we’s will be helping as we can, but we’s work best on small things. We’s helps with tasks like cleaning Hogwartsy, but we can’ts do things like run Hogwartsy.”

               Harry and Remus pondered some more. Finally, Remus spoke. “Hat, your idea is absolutely brilliant, and if we had the original several thousand plus refugees, we’d have the work force to take on most anything. But we’re currently three wizards and thirteen elves. We’d have to recruit people from the new location, and if we intend a magical village, there are two things to consider. The people working there would have to be magical and we’d have to train them in the magic we intend to use. It would take us quite a few years, if not a few decades to establish ourselves. If we’re starting with an empty bank and empty buildings, what do we have that would attract people to move to our village?”

               With great satisfaction, the hat announced, as if he was presenting the obvious solution, “What you, and you alone, will have in your village, young sirs, is the greatest school ever built!” Remus blinked. Harry looked confused. Taddy looked confused and blinked. The hat looked around at them, swiveling on its brim. Crickets. Nothing but crickets. Finally, Harry gave in. “All right, I’ll bite. How do we have a school?”

               “Because, Harry Potter, Mister Lupin is going to Pack! Hogwarts and take her with you.” The hat sounded decidedly smug.

               At this, Harry went completely over his limit of acceptance. “No. No, I can’t even right now. Remus,” he waved a hand at Remus and the hat, “you deal with it. I’m going to Diagon. I’m going to go buy buildings. Right now I don’t know why I’m going to buy them, but I damn well am going to buy them. Because it’s Diagon Alley, and it was the first time I saw magic. So yeah. I’m gonna buy it. I’ll be back … sometime. Okay, I’ll be back sometime soon because I’m not an asshole who’s going to dump all the problems on you, but the school is all on Remus so…” his voice trailed off as he entered his room, opening his trunk to retrieve a featherweight bag that he filled with gold from the Gringotts stash and slipped in three of his empty trunks, just in case. Taddy, Remus and Hat all eyed Harry warily as his voice came back into range when he stalked back into the room, “…and I don’t know where people keep getting the idea that I know what to do with things just because they give them to me and…“ his voice trailed off again as he exited the room.

               “Ah… perhaps if you explain in more detail, Hat, we might be able to better absorb the information?” Remus was every bit as knocked back as Harry, but he was a teacher at heart. To have access, no, to have the implied ownership of the school of his heart and all its memories, that would be his ideal place.

               *-*-*-*-*-

               Harry arrived in Diagon Alley, having flooed into the Leaky Cauldron. The place was flooded with witches and wizards, most in various stages of intoxication. He made his way up to the bar and waved down Tom. Shouting a bit to be heard, he said “Tom, I want to buy the building, how much do you want?” Tom froze and just stared at Harry for a moment. He stopped filling the mug in his hand, passed it off to his helper, and jerked his head to the small room behind the bar. Harry rounded the bar and followed him in.

               “Now Harry, why do you want to buy me bar? Me’n the family are leaving soon, as are you, so why?” Tom asked, just a bit bewildered, but willing to listen.

               “My parents left me more gold than any human should reasonably have, Tom.” Harry was still under the impression that his trunk of gold was solely from his vault. Nobody is going to feel good about me just giving gold to people as if it’s charity, but if you have something I want, and if you’re willing to sell it to me, then you get gold, I get what I want. Capitalism at its finest. But more honestly, the Leaky Cauldron is the first place I ever saw real magic. It’s the first time I ever met a proper wizard. I want it and the other shops in the Alley to exist just a little longer, and I have plans in place that can be executed once wizards have left.” He left it at that, leaving the impression that muggles would somehow be involved.

               Tom thought about it. If his bar could live on after magic, yes, that would be worth something, but he didn’t need Harry’s gold. He and the family were well off from years of good management. He walked to the wall, and pulled two sheets of parchment from a cubby, taking a quill from the jar on his desk. Dipping it in ink, he drafted a short letter, signing it with a flourish. He tapped his wand to it, causing the signature to glow briefly. He quickly wrote another note, signed it and verified the signature. He handed over the first scroll to Harry, holding on to it as Harry reached up to grasp it. Tom said, “This scroll is me signing over me bar to you for the sum of one galleon. You’re free to take possession at any point after me family leaves, which’ll be sometime this afternoon.” He shared a solemn look with Harry as he let go of the scroll. “Take good care of her,” he said with a bit of a hitch in his voice. He drew a breath and blew it back out. Handing over the second scroll, he said “This here’s a note from me to the other shopholders in the alley. Show it to ‘em, and it’ll tell them what you told me, and that I’m putting me faith in you to keep the Alley intact as best as ye can.”

               Harry hadn’t expected tears to rise so swiftly, but he swallowed, nodded, and handed Tom a single galleon. “Thank you, Tom. Sincerely, thank you.”

               “You’re welcome, Harry. I’m leaving the Leaky to good people.” He stood, rubbed a hand across his eyes, and muttered, “Best get back to me guests. Gonna have to sober ‘em up soon enough.”

               *-*-*-*-*-

               Harry walked the Alley, forging a path among the mad scramble of people heading to Gringotts He’d managed to acquire every building he’d entered, at least so far. His purchases had included Eeylops, where he’d also bought all the remaining owls (twelve), a recipe book for various owl treats, several books on owl care and health which had been gathering a few years worth of dust from the look of them and sent it all to Hogwarts. The Magical Instrument shop was already closed, as were a few others. Madame Malkin had donated her shop at no cost with a thank you to Harry for his efforts to save the Alley. Harry bought a few bolts of cloth, which was all she was willing to part with before departure, but it did include two bolts of acromantula silk. So far, he’d manage to pick up what was probably 80% of the Alley, to include the offshoot of Carkitt Market. He’d had to bypass a few shops on his initial pass, either because the press of the crowd was too great or they were completely filled with last minute customers, so he was working his way back around. He wasn’t including Knockturn in his acquisitions, the area was edging too close to a slum despite best efforts of some of the shop owners.

               He passed Gringotts bank, but the press of the crowd was still too great for him to think about entering. He hoped he’d find a chance to thank Eltiebs. He was still rattled by their gift. He made a promise to himself that whatever happened with the building, he’d ensure the use of it included the history and honor of the goblin race, no matter what propaganda the Ministry had tried to spread.

               He entered Ollivander’s and the bell tinkled as it must have thousands of times before. It felt like walking into a memory when Mr. Ollivander slid into view and smiled at Harry. “Yes, great things indeed, Mister Potter. So, what can an old wand maker do for you today? There’s packing to be done, isn’t there?”

               Harry smiled back, and explained his errand, passing over Tom’s note. Mister Ollivander eyed Harry sharply. “Perhaps there are yet more great things to come, Mister Potter. I do believe so, don’t you?” He thoughtfully drummed his fingers on his counter. Abruptly, he pulled over a sheet of paper and drew up an agreement. He took the paper and walked back into his shop, coming back to the counter with a book that rivalled the size of “Hogwarts, a History”. He thumped it onto the counter, and Harry read the title, "The Enchanted Art of Crafting Wands: A Guide to Crafting Your Own Magical Tools". “Five hundred galleons, Mister Potter, and the book and the building are yours. I will have completed packing and be removed within the next several hours.” Harry must have looked a bit taken aback at the price, because he continued, “Knowledge like this comes with both joy and pain, Harry Potter. It is both our remembrance of what magic has done in the past, the toll we pay for walking it’s road, and our honoring the gift of what our magic has yet to be. It is not given lightly, and it should always be given with the understanding that magic has a cost. You will pay in coin, and you will pay in blood, either or both, you will pay.”

               Harry felt the truth of Mister Ollivander’s words to his core, and knew he’d never forget the weight of what he was being given, for it was a gift, even with the price. “I understand, Mister Ollivander,” he said soberly. He had the feeling that Mister Ollivander knew he was going to take a different path, and this book was both his approval and a wish to expand his legacy.

               “Go on with you lad, it seems you still have things to do,” Ollivander waved him off, and turned back to his half empty shelves. Harry left in a much more thoughtful mood than he’d entered, pausing to leave the requisite galleons on the counter and to stow the book with his other purchases.

               The owner of Magical Menagerie was practically in tears when he offered to buy her building. “Me and the Mister was just trying to think what to do with all me lovelies,” she said, glancing around. “To have such a kind soul as Harry Potter be willing to take them,” she sniffled.

               Her assistant, who’d been petting a kneazle and looking quite glum, suddenly perked up, and in a blink went into full sales mode. “Just think, using the name of Harry Potter, and backed with a wide range of products and services available, such as pet food, toys, grooming supplies, and veterinary care, a pet shop can attract a diverse customer base and generate significant revenue. Additionally, owning a pet shop can be a fulfilling and rewarding experience, as it allows the owner to provide a valuable service to the community and interact with animals on a daily basis.” She stopped and heaved in a breath, looking at him expectantly.

               Harry didn’t understand how she’d spilled all that out so fast, helpless to say that he didn’t actually want the contents of the shop, just the building. Instead what came out was, “So…. How much?”

               Two hundred galleons later, and with the assistant and owner gleefully running to Gringotts, he looked around to see dozens of eyes looking back. “I don’t know… what do I… crap. Patronus message to Remus: I, um, yeah, can you send me one of the elves that’s good with animals? I’m at Magical Menagerie.”

               A few minutes later, Moppy popped in and all but squealed in delight. “What can Moppy be doing for Harry Potter sir?” She was inching her way towards a snow white puffskein.

               “Moppy, I bought the store. Which, you know, I intended to do and all, but um… I seem to have bought the contents, too.” He looked around uncertainly, finally turning the sign to closed and dropping the blinds. When he turned back, Moppy had the puffskein cuddled in her arms. Good choice Remus, he thought. “What do you think we should we do? I mean, I can pack the shop, but I don’t know what that would do to living animals.”

               Moppy gasped, giving him a horrified look. “No no no, Harry Potter sir, we’s can not be packing animals like books! We’s be needing special carriers. She pointed to a stack of what he’d thought were boxes on the back wall. “These be single carriers, Moppy will look for bigger ones.”

               Harry was getting a bit weirded out by all the eyes on him. Not a single animal in the store had looked away from him, including the puffskein in Moppy’s arms. “That’s an idea. In fact, I have another great idea. Moppy, how’d you like to be responsible for the care and feeding of all,” he waved a hand around, “this?”

               Moppy looked at him like she’d just been offered three Christmases in a row. “Really, Harry Potter sir? You would trust Moppy with the precious petses?”

               “Moppy, I can’t think of anyone I’d trust more. Would you be able to get them to Hogwarts by this afternoon? In the single carriers, if that’s all that’s here. You’ll need to make sure you have everything you need to keep them healthy and happy. If it’s not already here, make a list and give it to me or Remus. Can you do that?”

               “Moppy can, Moppy will,” she said determinedly. “Moppy will be taking the bestest of care of the petses.” She crooned to the puffskein, who purred back, still staring at Harry.

               Harry wondered what monster he might have just created, but decided it was a later sort of problem. Moving on. “All right, Moppy, I’m going to leave it in your hands. I’ll see you back in the room this afternoon.” He left after backing out the door, the puffskein staring at him the entire time. He wasn’t sure it had even blinked. Maybe it was defective? Nono, Moppy’s problem now, he reminded himself.

               Two more stops, the twins’ shop at #93, and Stowe and Packers at the corner of Diagon and Carkitt. Stowe’s had been one where the customers were packed a dozen deep, so he’d initially bypassed it for a later stop, and he’d admitted to himself that he was stalling on the twins. Mentally flipping a coin between the twins and Stowe and Packers, he headed to Stowe’s first, nudging his way through the current of people heading towards Gringotts, finally making it to the storefront. Stepping inside, he found an exhausted group draped over various chairs and staring at the ceiling. The shop looked like hippogryphs had rampaged through it, with one small stack of hatbox sized trunks remaining in a dusty corner. One of the employees tipped his head further back, looking at Harry upside down. “Oh, it’s Harry Potter, Mister Stowe. We have his order under the counter, haven’t sent it off yet.” Other than that, he didn’t so much as twitch.

               The person who must have been Mister Stowe groaned and rolled off his chair, catching himself with a hand and painfully pushing himself upright. Harry stepped forward and offered an arm. “Thank you, lad. Got your order. We finished fifteen trunks for you, expanded and stasis charmed. He limped over to the counter, Harry holding him steady. He started to bend over and hissed.

               “Would you like me to get that, Mister Stowe?” Harry asked.

               The proprietor moved to lean on the counter and waved him on. “Should be on the second shelf, far right end, has your name on the tag.” Harry pulled the mid sized box out. Instruction manuals ain’t been put in yet, should be a stack of them on the bottom shelf.” Harry picked up the stack, shrunk it and tucked it in the box.

               “Thank you very much Mister Stowe. I appreciate your hard work and wish you all the best on the other side.” He made his pitch for the building, and Mister Stowe wrote a quick bill of sale and signed it without fanfare.

               “It’s yours, lad. None of the lads and I are ever going to have to work again if we doesn’t want to, not after the sales this morning.”

               Harry helped the man back to his chair, and hoped he’d be all right. “Oh, do you by chance have any multiple pet or animal carriers? I seem to have an unanticipated need for them.”

               Mister Stowe perked up a bit at that. “Why yes, we have that very thing, lad. Them four trunks on the back wall, look like big doors? Those is multiple pet carriers.”

               Harry heard a snort from one of the employees. He wasn’t going to ask. He wasn’t. Whatever the problem was with the trunks, Harry didn’t care; he’d let Moppy sort it out. “I’ll take them,” he said. Seventy five galleons poorer, he shrunk the doors and put them in his bag. He’d take them back to the room and let Moppy at them. Waving a final goodbye, he left them to their customer induced comas, and walked to the twins’ shop. The blinds were down, and the sign said closed but he found himself knocking anyway.