Chapter Text
It is easy to forget that the goblins are more than just bankers who run the magical economy in Britain and elsewhere. Most magical folk can’t be bothered to learn more since it has little meaning in their everyday lives.
Goblins are also skilled metalsmiths, minting the coins that fuel the economy, as well as all manner of jewellery, tiaras and diadems, and other works that are highly coveted by the upper echelons of magical British society. To say that you own a piece (or pieces) of goblin-wrought jewellery or such related objects is definitive proof that your family is of extremely high standing and wealth.
But there is also another aspect of goblins that not many people know about (or choose not to know about).
They are also a fearsome warrior race, trained like the Roman legionaries to protect the goblin nation from the likes of the Ministry who till this day sees them as an inferior race to be subjugated. The number of goblin rebellions are far too many for most magical folk to remember, all fought against injustice and discrimination at the hands of a Ministry who remains prejudiced and bigoted.
One can only imagine the tense relations between humans and goblins, so it comes as a great surprise that amidst the underground nation, there is a human boy who lives in relative peace among his goblin brethren.
His name is Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, and the baby that was left by Vernon Dursley in an unnoticed corner of the bank floor ten years prior.
From the very moment he was brought to director of Gringotts and the leader of the goblins, Ragnok, Harry’s presence was a point of serious controversy.
No thanks to the tense relations between human and goblin, many of Ragnok’s subjects were none too happy to hear that a human baby had been left on their territory. Some of the more vocal naysayers even called for the child to be thrown to the dragons as food.
It was only Ragnok’s logical reasoning that saved the child from an untimely fate. According to the director, the Boy-Who-Lived could be used to their advantage. What better than the mould the child and raise him in accordance to goblin values? Harry’s name carries great clout and influence in the magical world above. When the boy grows up and returns to the world of his heritage, he will be a champion for goblins and their rights as magical beings. By teaching him the ways of goblins, Harry will disseminate his education to his peers and change archaic mindsets, in turn improving relations between the magical folk of Britain and goblins.
It is a calculated gamble, with the ever-possible outcome of failure. The director knows that if it all comes crashing down around him, his people will have his head stuck on a pike and displayed outside Gringotts for all to see. Still, Ragnok remains steadfast in keeping Harry alive and raise him in the world of goblins.
Especially, since there is a second reason why Harry needs to be kept alive and trained for the future.
When the child was brought to the healers for a check-up as a baby, it was noted that a dark presence lurked underneath the famous lightning bolt scar on the boy’s forehead. Upon further examination and extraction, it was discovered, with great horror, that it was a piece of someone’s soul.
More specifically, a piece of Lord Voldemort’s soul.
If there is one common ground shared between the magical folk of Britain and the goblins, it is their shared fear and condemnation of Voldemort, who nearly brought their entire world and society to ruin until Harry Potter somehow vanquished him that Halloween night in 1981. The goblins had always suspected that Voldemort indulged in the darkest, most illegal branches of magic to keep death at bay, only to have their suspicions confirmed with this soul piece that they extracted from Harry’s forehead.
With confirmation that the Dark Lord is not truly dead, Ragnok ordered a complete audit and search of every single vault in Gringotts to root out any more of these soul pieces. One such vault, belonging to the Lestranges, all of whom are rotting in Azkaban to this day, came into sharper scrutiny when the search team measured an unusually high level of dark magic coming from a single object in the vault.
To their great surprise, it was Helga Hufflepuff’s Cup, infused with a Doubling charm and a protective hex that would burn the flesh of anyone who touched the cup that wasn’t a member of the Lestrange family.
Ragnok was informed, and he immediately declared that the entire Lestrange vault was to be repossessed for violating the terms of Gringotts Bank. While the contents were evenly split between Gringotts’ coffers and Harry’s trust vault by right of conquest, Hufflepuff’s Cup was carefully taken out and handed over to the bank’s curse-breakers for thorough cleansing. It was eventually decided that once the cup was returned to its original clean state, Harry will take it with him to Hogwarts and return it to its rightful place within the castle.
Speaking of Harry, his purpose was doubled. Not only will he be a champion for goblins and their rights, he was to be trained to one day be strong enough to finish off the Dark Lord permanently, once and for all.
Which is where we find him today, on a hot summer’s day of mid-August 1991, in an underground chamber, clashing swords with a trained goblin veteran. If a layperson had chanced upon such a battle, they would have probably fled from fright.
It is brutal, no-holds-barred. While the swords are charmed so to not draw blood or cut flesh when hit upon skin, the charm did not stop the pain from racing across nerves from every blow or slice each of the combatants managed to inflict upon the other. Which between Harry and the goblin veteran, it was more the former who bore the brunt of such attacks.
While Harry has come a long way since he started learning how to fight with weapons at the tender age of four, he is still no matched against the far more experienced warriors that made up his combat teachers. He has a long-standing acquaintanceship with the chamber floor, and his tongue had become used to tasting dirt and rock from years of training.
Today is no exception.
Harry fails to dodge an incoming kick from his teacher, which sends him tumbling to the floor. The tip of the opposing sword swings towards his neck, just centimetres away from slicing open his arteries.
Breathing hard, Harry says, “I yield.”
The sword is sheathed back into the holder, “You have improved vastly, Harry. Still, there is room for continued growth.”
“I understand, Master Ironclaw,” Harry gets back up.
The goblin veteran nods sharply, “We’re done for today. Don’t forget your other appointments.”
“I won't.”
Despite having lived within the goblin nation his entire life and raised in accordance to their values, his teachers always reminded him that he is first and foremost, a wizard. He may be raised to champion goblins and their rights, but he was never allowed to forget his heritage. His classes did not just include goblin customs, but also wizarding customs, the Old Ways, and how to present himself in the eyes of the magical and Muggle public.
It is his heritage that prompts Harry to emerge above ground, head out into the bustling district of Diagon Alley and make purchases for an important milestone in his life.
Come the first of September, he will be leaving Gringotts for the Scottish highlands, where Hogwarts and Dumbledore await.
Very early on, his teachers have drummed into him that Dumbledore is not a man to be trusted. Behind his grandfatherly façade, he is a chess player, manipulating people as his pawns and sending them off to their deaths, as part of the game for the “Greater Good”. Even the director himself has told Harry that by bringing him into the goblin nation, Gringotts had thrown an spanner into Dumbledore’s machinations, whether the old bastard knew or not. When Harry goes to Hogwarts, it would surprise no one that Dumbledore will eventually find out what happened, and do all he can to bring the Boy-Who-Lived into his sphere of influence and keep him squashed under his thumb.
Make no mistake, Harry’s eventual goal mirrored that of Dumbledore. Both wanted the Dark Lord permanently gone. However, the goblins were aware of the prophecy that led up to the events of Halloween night in 1981, and have warned Harry that Dumbledore will just use him as a disposable pawn in the fulfilment of the Dark Lord’s permanent demise.
Harry has no intention to die so young, so it is a warning that he carries close to his heart till this day.
He returns to his private quarters, spartan but liveable. Goblins are not known for frivolous spending in their private lives, and neither is he. His pet snowy owl (he still hadn’t decided on a name for her yet) looks up from her snooze, before returning back to Morpheus’ call. He sheds his leather tunic and heads for the bathroom to rinse off the sweat and dirt from hours of practiced combat. The last thing he wants is smell as if he had just rolled through a pigsty when he is out and about.
Emerging from a refreshing shower, he changes into simple shirt, pants and a pair of boots, before making his way towards the elevators that will bring him up to the main bank floor.
As always, Gringotts is as busy as ever, so no one pays him any attention as he leaves out the open doors, pausing to give a warrior’s salute to the guards, before heading down the steps into Diagon Alley.
This is his third trip to the magical commerce district in the past week. Unlike most new students who bought everything for their first year of Hogwarts in one day, Harry spread his shopping out, mainly because of scheduling with his classes and training.
He had already gotten his books, stationary, and supplies. All that is left to do is get his school robes and wand.
Harry heads straight to Madam Malkin’s shop. The proprietor herself is tending to a family of three when he enters. She bids them farewell, and Harry steps to one side so that he doesn’t block their exit.
“Good afternoon! Hogwarts as well for you?”
Harry nods, “Yes, please.”
“Follow me, please. We’ll get you sorted in a jiffy!”
Harry follows Malkin to an adjacent fitting room. It’s a good job that he applied a strong glamour charm over him prior to leaving Gringotts. It would have been an awkward situation if he had to explain that he is going to be a first-year, when his physical stature implied otherwise.
See, as part of Harry’s training to permanently eliminate Voldemort once and for all, the goblins put him on a regimen of nutrient and growth potions that are supposed to give him the optimum physical condition to handle whatever strain or exertion Harry underwent in his training. They had the effect of bumping up his musculature and height to a certain extent, which understandably made Harry appear older than he actually was.
Magic really is a lifesaver when done right.
“Come, stand on this stool, and hold your arms out.”
Harry does as instructed. Using a tape measure, Malkin takes down his measurements on a sheet of parchment.
“I have just the sizes for you. Head on back to the front counter, and I’ll bring them out for you.”
Harry nods, following behind as Malkin bustles off to the back room to retrieve the robes. He makes a mental note to transfigure them into a bigger size once he takes the glamour off.
She returns a minute later with a bundle containing his (too small) robes. She wraps them in brown paper and ties it all together with string.
“Here you go, dear! That will be five galleons.”
Harry hands over the five gold coins, thanks Malkin for her time, and leaves the shop with the package in hand. Once in the open, he shrinks down the package small enough for it to fit inside his pocket, before heading off to his final destination of the day.
Unlike Madam Malkin’s shop, Ollivander’s is devoid of customers when Harry enters. The aroma of aged wood and spiced dust wafts into his nostrils. It’s not unpleasant, more of an acquired smell that can be a bit off-putting for those who are not used to it.
Harry glances around for the man himself, but initially, is unable to find him.
“Ah, Mr. Potter, I’ve been expecting you.”
Harry turns around. Ollivander saunters up to him with a welcoming gait.
“Good afternoon, Master Ollivander. I’m here for my wand.”
“Straight to business, hmm? Very well, please follow me.”
They head over to the front counter. Ollivander produces his own tape measure, and measures Harry’s dominant arm. Muttering to himself, the old wandmaker roams through the many shelves, plucking out boxes until his arms are relatively full. He returns to the counter with no less than ten wands.
“Come, Mr. Potter, let us try this first one.”
Ollivander takes the wand out of the box and shows it to Harry, “Ten and half inches, ash wood, with a core made from the tail hair of a unicorn.”
Harry takes it, and it promptly droops like a wilted flower.
“Not compatible,” Ollivander takes it back and tosses it to one side, “Let us continue.”
A second wand is produced, “Eleven and three-quarters inches, chestnut wood, and a core from a dragon heartstring.”
Harry takes the wand, but nothing happens. He waves it, and again, no results.
“Incompatible again,” the wand is thrown like the first, “To the third we go.”
The same outcome is repeated another four more times. When the sixth is rejected, Ollivander is noticeably excited.
“Interesting, truly interesting. It has been a while since I have had such a difficult customer like yourself, Mr. Potter. I am starting to wonder if we will even find a wand that will choose you at all! A challenge, indeed!”
For his part, Harry remains impassive. There’s always another day if required.
“Let us continue, seven is a symbolic number, so perhaps we will have some luck there, hm?”
The wand is produced, “Fourteen inches, blackthorn wood, with a core made from a phoenix feather. A truly exceptional wand, and a pity if it were rejected.”
Harry takes it, and immediately, there is a reaction. Flames burst from the tip, and swirl around Harry like a comet. There is no heat, and it is visually beautiful. After about ten seconds, the flames shoot up towards the ceiling, and burst into a shower of embers that float harmlessly upon Harry and Ollivander.
“Splendid, the wand has chosen you, Mr. Potter,” the old wizard nods approvingly, “As I would expect a budding warrior like yourself.”
Harry chooses not to respond to that. There are many unknowns pertaining to Ollivander, with rumours speculating that he has some form of magical Sight that grants him the ability to connect people with their wands, or the uncanny ability to learn secrets that have never been told before. Either way, it is best that Harry neither confirms nor denies the wandmaker’s strange remarks.
“Anyways, that will be seven galleons, Mr. Potter.”
Harry hands over the coins, “Thank you for your time, Master Ollivander.”
“No trouble, Mr. Potter. I calmly await to see what great things that you will do for our world, when the time comes.”
Harry nods wordlessly, before leaving the shop.
His time in Diagon Alley is at an end. He needs to return to Gringotts, his evening training sessions wait for no one.
To Be Continued.