Queens ch.50

Autumn had arrived, leaving once vibrant, purple autumn crocuses of Grandpa's faded and the last remnants of his Japanese maple scattered across the dried beds of mulch. Despite the chill creeping in with the promised first frosts, Grandpa remained devoted to his garden terrace. His precious bonsai trees, delicate and susceptible to the cold, needed protection. So, Grandpa invested in a custom greenhouse, complete with specially crafted runic glass panels, to shelter his beloved plants throughout the winter.

But, as Harry Potter found out, there was a catch. Installing those panels required serious effort and sweat. And guess who was roped into that job every year? That's right, Harry, the ever-reliable cheap labor.

Perched atop a telescopic ladder, Harry strained under the weight of a hefty glass panel. "Which way?" he grunted, sweat dripping down his bare chest.

"A little to the left," Grandpa instructed.

With one final push, Harry slid the panel into place. Relief washed over him as the tension eased, though his muscles still trembled from the effort. Despite the chilly November air, he was drenched in sweat and looked more like a weary warrior than a gardener.

"Alright," Grandpa said. "Just three more."

"We'll hire someone next year," Harry suggested, wiping his brow. "I'm done with this."

"Nonsense," Grandpa retorted. "You'll thank me one day when you're doing it yourself."

"I've been doing this crap for five years," Harry replied. "You just like watching me suffer."

"Money doesn't grow on trees," Grandpa began, then cut himself off with a curse. "Forget it. You're right. I'm cheap. And I enjoy watching you work."

When Gabrielle appeared on the terrace, carrying a glass of iced tea, Harry's mood lifted. He could practically feel the sweet relief of that cold drink.

"Here's your tea, Grandpa," Gabrielle said, planting a kiss on his cheek before handing him the glass.

"You're an angel," Grandpa said, taking the tea. "And I'm glad your boyfriend finally pulled himself together."

Gabrielle flashed her engagement ring and announced the wedding date, unaware of Harry's presence until he spoke up.

"And what about me?" he interjected, feeling the heat rise.

Gabrielle furrowed her brow, clearly surprised. "What about you?"

"I'm melting here," Harry said, gesturing to his sweaty state.

"I'm not a mind reader," Gabrielle replied.

Grandpa, relishing the spectacle, raised his glass in a mocking salute. "Just ask, Harry."

Gabrielle pointed out a panel that seemed to be off-center, and Harry's heart sank. Adjusting one meant readjusting them all.

"It looks fine to me," Harry argued, but both Grandpa and Gabrielle agreed on the misalignment.

Harry sighed in resignation, knowing there was more work ahead of him. As Gabrielle went inside, Harry shot her a look, silently demanding a pitcher of iced tea.

"Sorry, darling," Gabrielle said. "Better now than in the middle of winter, right?"

"Right," Grandpa chimed in. "You're lucky to have her, Harry. Now fix your mistakes before you move on to the rest." Two hours later, Harry sat in a chair next to Grandpa, admiring his handiwork. "They're perfectly straight. I used a level this time."

"Good," Grandpa nodded. "Next year, start using a level. Experience builds itself." He slid his hand around the back of Harry's chair and affectionately squeezed his shoulder. "You're a good man."

Harry looked at him sideways, furrowing his brow. "Why are you being so nice to me? Did you put something on my back?" He reached behind himself, and Grandpa chuckled.

"There's nothing on your back. Can't I be proud of my grandson without causing a national crisis?"

"Sure, but it's weird. Usually, you're lecturing me on how to pick up hot chicks. Now it's about greenhouse panels and iced tea. What's going on?"

Grandpa sighed deeply. "I don't need to lecture you anymore because you've already done it. You're engaged to four beautiful women, and Fleur is giving you a child. You're living what I could only dream of."

"What about Daphne? Did you forget about her?"

Gramps furrowed his brow. "Having sex with a woman doesn't impress me. To her, you're just a male prostitute. Harry, it's not about sex. It never was. It's always been about love."

Harry sighed. "Here comes the lecture."

"Having an affair with Daphne Hart doesn't respect the relationships you've built with Gabrielle, Fleur, Tracey, and Emma. They deserve better. If Daphne doesn't open her heart to you, then it's time to cut the bait and call it a day.

"You mean I should dump the Ice Queen?"

"That's exactly what I'm telling you. This arrangement serves her, not you. The time you spend at her place takes away from me and the women who truly love you. Harry, you're going to be a father next year. They won't put up with it forever.

"We sat here last summer, and you told me to be honest with every woman. I was honest. In fact, I never stopped telling the truth. I enjoy spending time with Daphne, and she enjoys spending time with me... I think."

"In that case, Daphne can leave Bob Longbottom and join the party here," Grandpa said. "I'll welcome her with open arms." He paused and looked at Harry appraisingly. "Do you love her?"

"I can't answer that," Harry replied.

"It's a simple question. Either you feel it or you don't."

"It's not a simple question because I don't know her. I mean, I don't know the real Daphne. She pretends, and I can't break through. I've seen glimpses, and those glimpses are pure gold. The woman hiding beneath that icy exterior is a woman I could easily fall in love with.

"If you want to melt that icy exterior, you'll have to bring the warmth," Grandpa said. "Cancel it. If she desires you, she'll come for you." Harry sighed and raised his half-empty glass of iced tea. "I need to sleep on this," he said.

"Fair enough, but don't wait too long." Grandpa patted him on the shoulder. "And now come with me, I have an important matter to discuss with you."

Harry Potter sat in his grandfather's cozy home office, surveying the familiar surroundings. In the center of the room stood a mahogany desk, upon which sat an elegant MacBook. Next to it were a pair of gleaming black filing cabinets, alongside a mahogany bookshelf adorned with family photos. Among them, his gaze was drawn to a recently added framed photo depicting the whole family, including Gabrielle, Fleur, Emma, and Tracey.

"Sit down," Grandpa instructed, pointing to the chair opposite the desk. He retrieved a key from his jeans pocket and unlocked a drawer in one of the filing cabinets.

Harry sat, staring at the dark screen of the MacBook. "What's going on?"

Grandpa pulled out a plain manila folder from the drawer. "Patience, Harry," he said, turning around. "Patience."

"As for the credit card fees, you told me..."

"Shh," Grandpa cut him off, turning back to the desk and sliding the folder across the surface. "Take this."

Harry furrowed his brow, picking up the folder. "What is this?"

"It's a summary of our assets, both liquid and illiquid," Grandpa explained.

"Our assets? They're not mine." Harry frowned. "You're not sick, are you?"

Grandpa studied him for a moment before speaking. "Harry, I'm getting older. I'm not sick, but death or dementia will eventually come. When my time comes, I want you to be prepared. The folder contains everything you need to manage our finances. But we'll have to go through it together."

"Can I open this?" Harry asked.

"Go ahead," Grandpa said. "That's why I gave it to you."

Opening the folder, Harry found a summary of their various assets—stocks, bonds, cash, and real estate. The final figure shocked him—$102 million in both Muggle and magical currency. He looked at Grandpa with wide eyes. "How is this possible?"

"Years of wise investments," Grandpa said. "Harry, I need to teach you how to make the same choices. You're now the executor of my estate. I'm leaving everything to you."

Harry shook his head. "Grandpa, I can barely manage a bank account. This is madness."

"Don't worry," Grandpa reassured him. "I'll teach you. But there's one condition." He raised a finger.

Harry raised an eyebrow.

"Finish medical school," Grandpa said. "You're too smart to let all this money distract you."

"Yes, of course," Harry agreed, taking a deep breath. "Are you sure you can trust me?"

"The fact that you're asking tells me I made the right choice. I'll introduce you to my advisors. You'll manage."

Harry nodded. "Are you really not sick?"

Grandpa laughed. "I'm still a pervert, but other than that, I'm fine. Let's get started."