HP [5]

The smell was so terrible and his eyes so busy finding safe places to set down his feet that he had to follow his ears to find the dastardly tricksters.

Thankfully they were present; he would have hated to have come all this way to discover they were not even in the room.

They were busy weighing livers and measuring volumes of plant extract, so busy in fact that they had yet to notice the intruder in their laboratory cum playground.

An evil smirk stretched across his face as he magically silenced his footsteps and snuck up behind them.

"What's that?" Even if they tried to prank him from now until the day he died, it would still not diminish the hilarity of the 'Marauders' Successors' almost literally jumping out of their skins.

"How did you get in here?!" demanded one brother.

"And why?!" shouted the other.

Harry's smile grew so large that it began to hurt his face. "The Map, and to talk to you."

"And what would…"

"…Harry Potter…"

"…Triwizard Champion…"

"…object of girls' adoration…"

"…and fear of evil Dark wizards everywhere…"

"…want with us?"

Tired of watching a verbal tennis match, Harry held up one hand. "I have a… business proposition, you could say. It stands to make a lot of money if done right, but I will only reveal it to you if you two will stop doing that!" His ire purged, he took a deep breath to calm himself.

"Okay, Harry, don't blow your top. How about you and I chat over there while this brother of mine continues what we were doing before your intriguing words?" the brother on the left said as he placed his arm around Harry's shoulders and guided him back towards the entrance.

"Fred and I were in the middle of a somewhat delicate stage in our brewing."

At the beginning of the hallway, George turned to him. "Now, what is this about some business we can help you with?"

"I heard through the grapevine that Bagman's done a runner to get away from the goblins, so I figured that you two still hadn't gotten the money he owes you from the World Cup."

"That's right," George snarled. "Over thirty-seven galleons gone. It took us eight years to collect just that much. We wanted to open a joke shop, but without any funds, that's not going to happen."

George was exactly where Harry wanted him now. Over the past years, he had discovered just how much power lies, manipulation, and misdirection truly held.

They were how Dumbledore moved him like a pawn on the chessboard, how Voldemort made the most arrogant wizards in Britain little more than his personal attack dogs, and how he and his loves had survived in the chaos of the Magical-Muggle civil war.

"Well, you know that the prize for the Triwizard Champion was a thousand galleons, quite a bit of money. Now, I don't need it myself, but I was thinking that my favorite pranksters might want it to open their joke shop…"

"That is a very generous offer. What do you want?"

"Oh, nothing much," Harry said with a faux innocent expression. "Just a small voice in the company and a bit of the incoming money. Net, of course, not gross."

George sighed. "How much?"

"Forty percent."

"What?! You want ownership of almost half of the business! Not going to happen, so not going to happen. We can give you… fifteen percent, but nothing more."

"Then I guess I'll take my thousand galleons elsewhere." At George's shock, Harry knew he had him.

The key was to keep the red-head looking where he wanted, the size and cost of the investment, and not where he really really didn't, why Harry wanted the incoming money so badly when he had implied he had more than enough.

Fixing Potter Manor wouldn't be cheap, and since he was no longer an adult, he had limited access to the main family vault.

Besides, the twins had stood back and let Molly, Ron and Ginny go on with their plans; they deserved a bit of payback.

"George, George, George. Georgie – you don't mind if I call you Georgie, right? – you seem to have a bit of a misconception. This isn't a negotiation; you need my money more than I want a share in a company that has no guarantee of success. I'll be nice, though, and only take ten percent for the next two years, let you have time to graduate and set the shop up, before I start collecting my whole share. If you do well and show me a reason for expansion, either in product or location, I could be willing to float you the cash free of interest. That's a better deal than you'll get from Gringotts, I can tell you that.

"So, George Fabian Weasley, do we have a deal?"

Harry left their 'office' half an hour later, lighter by a thousand galleons but with a freshly written contract and a dark sense of satisfaction. His errands run, it was time to find his darling lovers.

….

Harry whistled as he walked into the library. He had an absolutely devoted elf, soon to be two, and a source of income.

As soon as there were two beautiful young women hanging off his arms, he would be as happy as a pig in mud, and the Point Me spell showed a delightful pair of arm-warmers just up ahead.

He quickly found them, sitting and talking quietly. He stalked over to Hermione's chair and put his hands on her shoulders. "Hey there, pretty girl. You come here often?"

Her face was hidden, but the smile she wore came out in her voice. "So what if I do? If you're hitting on me, you might as well walk away now. My boyfriend is the jealous type."

"Ah, I can take him, show you how a real man fights."