Don't Panic Chapter 30: Owens New Employers (Part 2)

Chapter 30 - Owens New Employers (Part 2)

Harry watched his new employees leave the warehouse, sending them off with a happy wave and a smile. He had been quite impressed by Owen and the man’s daughter Sara.

Harry had been a tad uncertain prior to this meeting. From Sirius’s description, the man had bankrupted his family business. That wasn’t exactly a good sign in Harry’s opinion. 

Thankfully, he was now certain that Sirius had been right to hire the man. Owen had impressed him with how easily he grasped their vague plans to build a Westerosi trade empire based out of the North. The man’s eyes were practically glowing with interest by the end.

Sure, the man was clearly dubious when it came to the sheer scale of Harry’s ambition, he seemed doubtful that they would ever be able to reach the sort of scale Harry aspired to. Nonetheless, he seemed damn keen to try. 

At the very least, they all agreed that facilitating an increase in food imports, and growing the exports of local produce, would be a great boon for the North. Owen agreed wholeheartedly with Harry’s observation that Northern trade seemed strangely diminished and needed a boost. 

Ultimately, the man was clearly ambitious, but he had a good heart, and a good head on his shoulders. A solid hire by Harry’s standards. 

Strangely, Owen had been very insistent that all future negotiations were left to him and him alone for some reason. The merchant actually seemed quite stressed by the thought of letting his ‘bosses’ deal with such matters. He must want to impress us, Harry thought with a touch of amusement. Not that it was necessary, Harry was confident the man would do a good job. A touch of legilimency helped with getting a measure of the man after all.

There was, alas, the slight misstep in having to admit the existence of magic to the man. Though his daughter was the one to insist on the obviousness of it all. 

Harry really should have seen this coming. In-fact, he expected it would happen eventually, but not this quickly. He may have been a bit too focused on his other activities to recall their familiarity with this particular warehouse.

Harry had been a little embarrassed when Sara had pointed out that it was rather obvious that the warehouse was now much bigger on the inside after all. “oops” 

The wards he had up should have prevented anyone from noticing the more blatant uses of magic in the area. But he had deliberately keyed the two of them into the wards so they could use the backrooms. It seems he hadn’t quite thought through how that would also remove the effect of the notice-me-not on all things magical. 

Sure, Harry had intended to give them an introduction to magic in time of course. How else would they be able to take full advantage of the wards or the protean linked inventory and messaging journals. He just … well he had thought he would make it a much slower introduction with a bit more time for them to get used to it. Harry had also been worried about how they might react to the existence of magic in the first place, and had intended to have the elves surreptitiously needle the man on his opinion of magic to vet him first.

“Oh well, c'est la vie, and all that.” At least it was one more thing off his to-do list.

Obviously the duo weren’t blind, nor were they stupid, and the keying-in meant that their midday introductory meeting became more of an impromptu, and rather blunt, introduction to magic.

At least they hadn’t run for the hills at the first sign of magic. That was a good indication Sirius had hired the right man if there ever was one. 

Honestly, he had to chuckle a bit to himself as he reflected on the conversation they'd just shared. It was certainly one of the stranger introductions he'd given to magic, reminiscent of Professor McGonagall’s iconic ‘muggleborn orientation speech’.

He knew, from experience that the best approach to introduce magic was through demonstration. 

Of course, the expression on Owen’s face when Harry casually transfigured a simple wooden table into a rather surprised and disgruntled pig had been utterly priceless. 

Sara had gasped with delight, immediately poking the pig curiously while Owen had just rubbed his eyes, mumbling something about needing a stiff drink.

“Well that’s a lot more ‘Magic’ than I was expecting.” The man had exclaimed in mild shock, “It’s all real then? Not some kind of illusion?” Owen had asked cautiously, as if the pig might suddenly return to being a table and confirm he’d lost his mind entirely.

“Yes,” Harry assured him patiently, transforming the pig gently back into its original form. "And before you ask, no, you definitely don't have to sacrifice anyone in a bonfire to claim magical abilities.”

Sara laughed openly at the absurdity of the suggestion. Owen’s stare, however, was more piercing all of a sudden.

“Yes, I’ve heard tell of those fire worshipers claiming to control magics in the east. It’s fairly well established in the merchant rumour mill that they’re mere religious fanatics, I’ve never suspected them to control actual magic. You’re telling me they’re real and they use human sacrifice to do this?” he asked incredulously.

Harry grimaced. "Well possibly. I’ve found plenty of mentions in my research of magics in Westeros and Essos. Though I’ve seen no evidence that it’s real. And yes, regardless of whether they have any magic, I do know from first hand accounts that those followers of the fire demon, R’hllor, actually perform human sacrifices. Honestly, I'd never heard anything so barbaric until we arrived here. Sirius and I plan to take a closer look at that soon enough. We can’t have people tarnishing the reputation of good, upstanding magicals.” Harry almost growled.

Sara's expression sobered at this revelation. Owen simply shook his head slowly, murmuring under his breath, “I’ve heard sailors tell stories, but I never thought they were true. Bloody mad southerners…”

Harry nodded in agreement, though decided it wasn’t worth mentioning that they were technically ‘Easterners’ since not all of Essos was south of here. He figured it was more of a Northerner saying. Everything seemed south to them.

“Anyway, getting back on track, now that you know our best kept secret” Harry continued, ignoring the raised eyebrows at the claim that this secret was well kept at all, everyone makes mistakes now and then, “we should probably get down to business. We thoroughly intend to use magic in our trade deals, and we’ll take you through all the wards and tools we’ve left for you to use, but first you need to sign these contracts.”

Harry swiftly pulled out the magical secrecy contracts he’d prepared earlier. After all his research into first men runes, he’d finally figured out how to get the contracts working in a world with such high concentrations of wild magic. It turns out he had been approaching the problem the wrong way to begin with. 

Every time he’d tried to write the new rune clusters onto parchment, the whole document had gone up in flames. First men runes just used too much power. However, he didn’t need the powering runes on the contracts, just the more refined runes from his old world and a separate cluster to link them to the nearest wardstone to draw power. The stone itself had no issue drawing in the more turbulent magics after the addition of Harry’s new rune clusters, and now the contracts would remain powered even if one of the parties was a muggle, or a strange kind of squib as so many Northerners tended to be.

"These," he said clearly, holding up the parchment, "are secrecy agreements. Anyone aware of our magic signs one. They are enforced by magic, so once signed, you physically can’t breach the contract. This way you don’t have to watch your words or worry about slip-ups, the magic will help you keep the secret.”

Harry was very happy with these contracts, and once he explained their purpose to Owen, he was sure the merchant would see the value of magically enforceable contracts as well. Any merchant would.

Owen appeared visibly relieved at this, taking the parchment eagerly. "Magic itself doesn't bother me," he reassured Harry. "But if rumours of magical merchants got out, especially in the South, trading would become near impossible. This contract gives me confidence we can keep our advantage a secret."

"Exactly," Harry nodded, pleased with Owen’s pragmatic view of the situation. "It’s vital we keep this to ourselves, at least until we're ready to fully leverage our position."

“Besides," Harry added lightly, sensing the slight unease that lingered in Owen’s posture, "it’s not as though we’re doing anything too unusual." He chuckled lightly as both Owen and Sara fixed Harry with incredulous looks, before both of them looked off to the back of the warehouse for some inexplicable reason. Harry decided to ignore that for now, having no clue what the look was about, the backrooms may be warded, but they wouldn’t really look or feel any different for these two since they were already keyed-in, no, he wasn’t sure what prompted the reaction, but he supposed he could overlook the eccentricities of this father daughter duo since they’d just had a few shocks to process.

“I suppose every merchant house has its quirks," Owen allowed dryly. "Though admittedly, yours are a bit more … colourful, than most.”

With the contracts signed and explanations given, Harry felt a surge of relief. They had navigated one more complicated situation. He had absolute faith that Owen and Sara would become invaluable assets as he expanded his trade empire from the North.

He was thankful, they were completely willing to sign the secrecy contract. If not, he would have had to take much more drastic measures. Not to mention, finding new staff to hire. There was no ICW to enforce a statute of secrecy around here, but Harry was still keen to keep things under wraps where possible.

He’d been very successful so far, not a hint of his magics had slipped out. But he knew very well that there was an enemy at the gate so to speak. This ‘Tresy Jor’ lot, the Maesters and the Septons, who seemed to be working to stamp out magic. They were his main driver behind continued secrecy. 

He’d even admitted as much to Owen, in a bit of a warning to be wary of maesters and those of the faith. Owen who had simply shared a glance with Sara, followed by another glance at the door to the backrooms, and then returned some sort of knowing nod to Harry.

Herry was still not certain what that was about, but he was relieved to have the man’s understanding.

Beyond the awkwardness of the reveal, it had actually been quite fortuitous. With Owen in the know, he could be briefed on all the hidden advantages baked into their wards. Harry was also very keen to see those advantages attached to ships as well. 

Finally, Owen was over the moon with the instant communication notebook, and accompanying instant tallying inventory ledger. Harry could have sworn he’d seen a tear in the man’s eye when he’d been shown those particular tools. 

Harry sort of understood. Anyone who’d ever had to look over accounts for any period of time would appreciate an automated replacement to that little hell on earth. Or hell on Planetos he supposed. Harry had needed to trawl through the ledgers of the Potter and Peverell families when he inherited the vaults, and he'd hated every moment of it.

Harry had also encouraged Owen to put Sara on the payroll, since she seemed to have a good head on her shoulders. He was sure she’d make a good assistant, and possibly even a capable company leader after a few years under her father’s tutelage. Sara had been over the moon at that offer. 

She’d explained that it would be hard for her to climb the merchant ladder as a woman in a man’s world. There were a good few powerful women in Essos, but they tended to have inherited their families' estates. That had usually involved some quiet or not so quiet assassinations of any male relatives who could have claimed the inheritance to ensure there were no chances of being passed over as was the case for many.

Harry had no such issues with an intelligent young woman in his employ and pitied those who wasted good talent by overlooking them.

That had left everyone in a good mood, and Harry was sure they’d be leaving both a capable and increasingly loyal man in charge. Delegation for the win. 

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Speaking of delegation, Harry figured he’d better check in on Dobby to see how he was going with the little anti-spy operation they sent him on this morning. Who knows what the overeager house elf would get up to if they left him at it for too long.

Harry moved to the backrooms of the warehouse where he could feel the pull from his magic bond with Dobby, knowing the little bundle of energy was bustling around back there for some reason. He wondered if that had anything to do with those looks Owen and sara gave, but brushed it off, surely they would have mentioned seeing Dobby.

Opening the door to the small office space at the back of the building, Harry came upon a sight he wasn’t sure he ever wanted to see.

Dangling from the ceiling like some kind of strange chandelier was a very displeased looking elderly gentleman, tightly bound by ropes and desperately trying to yell out muffled protests through a large woollen sock. Even worse, the unfortunate fellow had been stripped down to his rather shabby undergarments. A sight Harry quickly decided he could have happily gone without.

He was fairly sure this was Maester Cressen.

Not that he would know the man by sight of course. No, the clear giveaway was the fact his somewhat crazy house elf was standing next to the man wearing what looked like Maester’s robes, complete with a rather long decorative chain around his neck.

“Ah, Dobby …” Harry began slowly, trying very hard to sound casual.

“Yes, Master Harry sir?” Dobby bounced eagerly on his heels, eyes wide with excitement as he turned to see the new entrant.

“What … ah, what are you doing?” Harry asked as he gestured helplessly at the scene before him.

“Oh, Dobby is just cleaning sir” the house elf responded emphatically, nodding vigorously as if that made perfect sense.

“Cleaning?” Harry echoed faintly. He glanced concernedly towards the Maester, whose frantic eyes were pleading for rescue. Harry sighed internally, he probably should’ve been more explicit when instructing Dobby this morning. He knew Dobby often had a fairly creative way of interpreting his requests, so he shouldn’t be surprised. Still, a red dot on the Marauder’s Map didn’t necessarily warrant abduction... then again, perhaps it did.

“You found something interesting, then?” Harry asked cautiously.

“Oh, yes!” Dobby practically bounced over, thrusting a half-burned letter enthusiastically into Harry’s hands. “Dobby found plenty of proof the bad Maester has been up to mischief. Very sneaky. Very traitorous!”

Harry quickly scanned the contents, his brow furrowing deeper with each line. This was far worse than he’d suspected. Perhaps Dobby’s unique interpretation of his instructions wasn’t entirely misguided.

Scratch that, this was far, far worse than he’d expected from someone who held one of the most prominent positions in the North. This was outright treason.

The Maester in charge of the North’s only city had a lot of influence over trade in the region after all, and if he was actively working with pirates to stifle that trade... well who knew what else the man had done.

This was insidious, and it was increasingly looking like a coordinated attack on the North. This evidence lent credence to Harry’s theories that someone or some group was working behind the scenes to actively keep the power of the North in check. At least if he let Dobby take care of this Maester, that would be one major player taken out of the game.

Harry felt like he’d uncovered a hidden chess game that the Northen lords didn’t even know they were playing. He kept taking out pawns... glancing at the second most senior Maester in the North he corrected himself, no, they’d taken down rooks or bishops in this game, and for that he was pleased, but he had no idea who he was even playing against.

A surface legilimens hinted at some organised conspiracy of hooded figures, but Harry couldn’t glean much more, the man’s thoughts were scattered, split between utter terror, and towering rage towards the Northern barbarians. At least he knew where the man stood on that matter. 

A deeper scan of his mind would be far too damaging, and he doubted he would find what he wanted to know anyway. An aggressive raging mind was a form of mental defence all its own. It was not an Occlumency barrier, but it was well known amongst those who studied the Mind Arts that fanatics tended to be nearly impossible to read due to the constant layering of their own insane beliefs over the top of any useful information.

“Well then …” Harry nodded, gathering his thoughts and deciding to leave Dobby to … whatever he was going to do “… carry on then I guess, and … ah, just let me know if you need anything.”

“Oh yes,” Dobby replied excitedly, stopping Harry as he was about to leave “Master Harry’s help would be just what Dobby needs.”

Harry was a bit worried by the excited gleam in the house elf’s eyes though he wouldn’t mind helping his friend ‘clean out the trash’ so to speak. “Sure Dobby, what do you need?”

“Could Master Harry adjust Dobby’s illusion amulet to have a form like Maester Cressen? Dobby needs to impersonate the man to hand in a resignation letter. For when he disappeared.”

Harry blinked, processing this new information. Suddenly, Dobby wearing the Maester’s robes made a lot more sense. Not that he was going to ask about that in the first place. Harry had long ago learnt that he was better off not asking about some things. 

“Right, of course.” Harry nodded “Hand it over and I can make the adjustment.”

Behind him, Maester Cressen emitted another muffled cry, clearly objecting to this talk of disappearance.

Harry ignored the muffled sounds coming from the older man as he made the needed changes to the amulet. Harry wasn’t averse to making sure his enemies disappeared when it was necessary. A lesson he and the rest of the light side had learnt the hard way in the war. And he trusted Dobby’s judgement, even if he didn’t quite know what the elf meant by ‘disappear’ in this case.

Harry made quick work on the changes to the amulet. Carefully inscribing one of his new first men rune clusters on the side of the amulet to give it the power boost it would need to carry another form. He was a dab hand at this now, having spent so much time researching the magic. 

“I’ll have to remember to give you one of the newer amulets soon,” Harry mused aloud, handing it back. “The new ones will let you change your form at will, like a metamorphmagus.”

“Dobby would like that very much!” the elf squeaked, promptly putting his amulet back on and transforming into a disturbingly accurate copy of the old Maester, though his delighted expression certainly wasn’t something Harry ever expected to see on the real Cressen's face.

Harry chuckled quietly at the wide-eyed reaction from the genuine Maester. “Anything else, Dobby?”

Dobby paused thoughtfully. “Could Dobby maybe have a portkey, Master Harry? Perhaps… somewhere north of the Wall?” His eyes flicked significantly towards the dangling captive. “Anywhere remote will do!”

Harry couldn’t suppress a snort, finally understanding the elf’s intent. It seemed oddly poetic to banish a traitor of the North to the frigid wilderness of the True North. It’s kind of what they did with prisoners they sent to the Night’s Watch anyway. Though Dobby clearly meant to send his prisoner a bit further North.

With a wry grin, Harry grabbed a random scrap of parchment, turning it swiftly into a portkey aimed for a particularly desolate spot they'd passed by on their journey south.

“Here you go, Dobby,” he said cheerfully. “Do keep us informed of anything else you find, won't you? And perhaps conveniently leave that half-burned letter somewhere the Manderlys might stumble upon it. At the very least, this find should encourage them to be a bit more careful with their future hires.”

Dobby nodded vigorously, taking the letters back and tucking them away.. He turned a thoughtful, if slightly sinister, glance toward the suspended Maester.

“Enjoy yourself then, Dobby,” Harry said lightly, heading for the door. “Just try not to cause too much trouble. Subtlety would be appreciated.”

“Dobby is always subtle!” came the enthusiastic assurance, though Harry noted the elf was already gleefully twirling in his new robes.

Harry shook his head, stepping out and closing the door behind him. Ignoring the last few emphatic looks from the trussed up Maester who clearly thought he might have a better go of things if Harry stayed, rather than leaving him to the machinations of the mad creature. 

Harry snorted at the look as he turned away. 

At least he knew Dobby had the situation under control … well, sort of. He might be eccentric and occasionally terrifying, but Harry trusted the little elf’s judgment when it came to sniffing out treachery. He did spend most of his life with the Malfoys after all.

And if all went well, no one would ever suspect their involvement or their use of magic to solve this particular problem for the North. The Maester would just hand in his resignation and disappear with none the wiser.

After all, he thought with a smile of amusement, who would ever suspect the Maester of White Harbour was kidnapped by a house elf and sent north of the Wall?

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Chapter 30 Teaser:

There was something wrong with Maester Cressen. He was sure of it. Lord Manderly had begrudgingly put up with the non-stop grumblings of the blasted Southerner for a number of years now, but all of a sudden the man was … well... Lord Manderly wasn’t exactly sure how he would describe the man’s new behaviour. But it was definitely different. He just hoped the Maester would hold it together long enough to get through this critical negotiation with Lords Peverell and Black. 

A proper shipyard was not something they could let slip through their fingers. The Maester usually had some reason or another to stop House Manderly from investing in these sorts of schemes. In hindsight the House of Manderly had missed a few prime investment opportunities, but that only became apparent after he'd started to investigate the man following the secretive message he'd received from Lord Stark about spies in their midst. This message was notably delivered in-person by a Stark man, which indicated that Lord Stark didn't fully trust the ravens. His investigation had found no proof of maliciousness, but there was no denying the man had given bad advice wrapped in very convincing logic. He was worried what obstacle the cantankerous academic would pull out of the hat this time.

He sighed quietly. Unfortunately he'd found no proof, and the Maesters would be impossible to deal with if he accused them or had the man exiled.

Eyeing the man he wondered if this new flighty and excitable behaviour was some elaborate scheme to stop the new shipyard as well. That he'd inexplicably tucked his grey robe into his astonishingly colourful socks was a mystery all of it's own, he didn't even know such an arrangement was possible. He certainly hoped it didn't catch on as a new trend. Maybe an attempt to make the Peverells think they were dealing with madmen or incompetents.