Work Text:
Common Intro to all One-shots (Skip to the scenario if you already read the intro and don't need the context)
JUNE 1989 - Harry is 8 years old
Harry Potter found himself running for his life again. His cousin Dudley and his gang of bullies had started another round of Harry Hunting almost as soon as the school day had ended. Harry was usually quite good at avoiding capture, but Dudley's bumbling horde had unwittingly caught him in a daydream about enjoying the pleasant early June weather with a quiet picnic by a lake. Until that point it had been a rare good day at school without trouble from either Dudley's gang or teachers.
He even felt good about the exams he had taken that day for History and Science, two of his favorite subjects, though he wasn't allowed to do too well lest he face punishment for exceeding Dudley's grades. Harry shook off his reverie so that he could focus on escaping. Unfortunately, in his lack of focus, Harry had run himself into a dead end behind the school kitchens. He was silently cursing his situation of being an 8-year old who constantly put up with bullying and abuse everywhere he turned.
Clearing his mind again, Harry stood still to listen for Dudley's approach while quietly looking around for escape options, but soon realized his only hope to avoid the Hunt today would be to hide behind the nearby big trash cans. Dudley and crew were just about to turn the corner, so Harry closed his eyes thinking only of getting to a place where Dudley's gang could not find him and made a leap to get to his hiding spot.
And that's when Harry felt the strangest and most uncomfortable sensation in the world. His body felt like it was being compressed from all sides then being pushed through a tube.
Scenario 2 - Gringotts
The two goblin guards stationed outside the front doors at Gringotts were methodically surveying Diagon Alley for any potential threats that might affect the bank. They were quietly reporting observations to each other in Gobbledegook. Though not large beings, they were bigger than banking goblins and looked fierce and dangerous with their goblin-made armor and weapons. Diagon Alley was calm, but goblins weren't the type to relax.
A quick flash of light directly in front of the bank's white marble steps caught their attention as they gripped their weapons and assumed attack positions. They then witnessed a small wizard suddenly appear and stumble towards Gringotts. The young boy ended in the supine position with his broken glasses to the side and his feet resting on the first step of the bank. Apparition was not allowed immediately in front of Gringotts and was taken as a serious threat.
"Who dares threaten the sanctity of Gringotts Bank?!" snarled the first goblin guard in Gobbledegook as he raised his sword.
A thoroughly disoriented Harry Potter was pressing his hands to his face in an attempt to regain his wits. He heard angry growling from what he thought were two of Dudley's fellow delinquents. The sound of trouble helped Harry return to the moment, but he was still having trouble gathering himself as he hurriedly felt around the ground for his glasses. His search became more frantic as the unfamiliar growling got louder.
Harry finally resigned himself to a pummeling when he found his broken glasses and spoke out testily, "Just do it, Dudley! You got me this time. Just stop making noises like Mrs. Figg's angry cats."
The second goblin guard was mentally reassessing the threat, yet added menacingly in Gobbledegook, "Child wizard, hear me now. State your business or face the wrath of my axe!"
"Now you are just making fun of me with your gobbledygook talk, Piers," an annoyed and blurry visioned Harry snapped at who he thought was Piers Polkiss, a member of Dudley's gang. "What is a 'bladvak' anyway?" Little did Harry know that Gobbledegook was the language of the goblins and that he had just insulted them.
The second goblin switched to an angry sounding English, "A 'bladvak' is a goblin axe, human. Now state your business."
Harry held one of his lenses to his left eye and quickly inhaled upon seeing the goblins. He must be having a nightmare or maybe he was a figment of Lewis Carroll's imagination. "Y-you're not Dudley. What are y-, er, who are you and where am I?"
The goblin with the axe scowled at the perceived insult. "This is Gringotts Bank. The finest bank in the world run by the finest bankers in the world, goblins. Enter or leave. Face my blade if you seek trouble."
A wide-eyed Harry knew this was potentially much worse than Dudley's gang. Goblins at a goblin bank were threatening him with deadly weapons and he couldn't wake up from this scary dream. He wanted to leave immediately, but his glasses were in three pieces and he felt compelled to move forward. Surely a bank had Sellotape he could borrow. The frightened 8-year old stammered out, "S-s-sorry, s-sir. I will enter."
Harry walked cautiously through the first set of doors while admiring the impressive entrance; he sped up to get through when the guards growled at him. He was about to pass through the second set of doors when he read a threat in the form of a poem that was on the wall. Hopefully borrowing tape wouldn't bring him the wrath of these goblins.
When he finally entered the lobby, Harry noticed what seemed like an endless number of teller windows, though only a few had customers. The high marble ceilings depicted gruesome battle scenes of goblins in triumphant poses. This was definitely the biggest and most imposing bank he had ever been inside, not realizing this was only his second time ever in a bank. Aunt Petunia rarely took him on errands because she did not want people associating her with her abnormal nephew and his poor behavior.
A goblin teller glowered at Harry, who reluctantly approached the teller window. What had he gotten himself into?
The goblin, who was in a business suit, barely looked up at Harry from his work as he flatly said, "State your business, Child."
How should he reply? The goblin looked too professional to attack him and the other humans in the bank appeared to be unharmed. These creatures - goblins - seemed to want to get straight to the point without any pleasantries. Harry plenty of practice doing that because that was how he had to act all the time in his home life. In a soft, but clear voice he said, "I need tape to repair my broken glasses...sir. Could you spare a few pieces please?"
The goblin stopped his work and squinted over his glasses at Harry. What a peculiar request by a wizard, he thought. "This is a bank, not a repair shop. Ask your parents to fix your glasses or withdraw money from your vault to pay someone for the service."
"Oh, um, I'm an orphan and I don't have any money. I am positive you don't have an account for Harry Potter here. I guess I'll just go." Harry felt dejected, but was not surprised at the outcome.
The goblin scoffed as if offended at the comment, "Of course the Potters have vaults here. This is the most prestigious magical bank in the world. Do you have your key? If not, I will need a few drops of your blood to verify your identity." The goblin then held up an extremely sharp looking knife.
Harry felt his eyes bulging out of his head. The Potters, his family, HIS FAMILY, had a vault with goblin bankers and these goblins wanted his blood to prove he was a Potter. There was no way he wasn't dreaming or unconscious from a blow to the head. Harry then became wistful and introspective thinking about the family he never knew.
After over a minute of silence without a reply from the preoccupied Harry, the livid goblin brusquely spat out, "Time is money, boy. Prove yourself or leave."
The 8-year-old meekly held out his hand, "I guess I'll have to give you some of my blood. This is just a dream anyway, so it doesn't matter."
The process began without either saying a word. The goblin pulled out a form and held Harry's hand while pricking his finger. Harry felt pressure on his finger that was not released until 7 drops of blood fell on the form. The teller then waved his hand over Harry's finger, which instantly healed. Having not yet been exposed to much magic, Harry thought that was quite the impressive trick. The pain also confirmed that this was all real; the whole crazy experience was real. After a few moments, the form gave a brief golden glow and the goblin nodded in approval.
"Very well, Mr. Potter, we have verified your identity. The Potter accounts have been dormant for many years. Before accessing your vault, you must first meet with your account manager Ragnok to unfreeze the accounts. Ragnok is an important goblin, therefore, do not waste his time. Am I clear?" He flashed his sharp teeth to show he was serious.
A nervous Harry gave an exaggerated nod accepting the statement.
"Good. Griphook!" the teller called out, loudly emphasizing the second syllable. A new goblin appeared almost immediately and the teller jumped right into giving instructions, "Escort Mr. Potter to Ragnok's office, then wait outside the office until the client is ready to visit his vault."
Griphook nodded and curtly said, "Follow me," and walked in the most efficient path to a door in the back leading to the account manager offices.
As Harry followed Griphook, he heard someone shamelessly ask a teller a little too loudly, "Did that boy just say he is Harry Potter? THE Harry Potter? Has Gringotts known Harry Potter's whereabouts this whole time?"
The teller replied with disgust, "Wizard, we do not discuss other clients and their business. Refrain from asking impertinent questions or be forcibly removed from the property."
Harry was more confused than ever. How strange that someone had asked about him as though he were famous? He needed to ask this Ragnok for more information about the vaults and apparent notoriety, but was afraid of wasting the goblin's time.
Griphook opened the door to an office where a well-dressed goblin stood from behind a desk. "Have a seat, young Mr. Potter. It has been several years since I last spoke to anyone from your family. My name is Ragnok and I am the Potter account manager."
The 8-year-old replied timidly, "Pleased to meet you, Mr. Ragnok. I was told I needed to speak with you about my vault." His curiosity then got the better of him, "I am also curious about strangers knowing who I am. Should I be worried?"
Ragnok guffawed and laughed loudly, "Of course the wizard knew Harry Potter. You are famous for ending the last wizarding war."
Harry looked utterly baffled at this entire concept.
Ragnok had a toothy grin on his face as he continued, "Furthermore, your family has had many tremendously successful magical businesses and products. Yes, the Potters are a well known and wealthy family and I have worked with them for many years to enrich both the Potters and Gringotts. Your grandfather Fleamont was a wildly successful business wizard and grandmother Euphemia was a talented potion mistress until they died from dragonpox.
The goblin stopped momentarily for the Potter child to speak, but quickly continued when it was clear the dumbstruck child wasn't going to say a word. "It is such a shame about your parents' untimely deaths to that dark wizard. Unfortunately, we lost a generation of enterprising Potters and many years of mutual profits due to a foolish ideology. As if the mighty goblins could ever be mere creatures. Nonetheless, the Potter vaults are flush with gold and family heirlooms and ready to begin producing once again." Ragnok was genuinely sad about the lost decade of financial opportunity.
The focus on money over his family did not sit well with Harry, who had been thinking a lot about his parents ever since his encounter with the teller. Regardless of that pain, what a whirlwind! His head was spinning with all the new information. He had just gone from a poor orphan living with spiteful relatives to being rich and famous! Harry needed time to sort this all out.
And what was this about family heirlooms? Maybe he could find photographs of his parents and other family members in these vaults. Yes, he was definitely going to visit these vaults to find out about his family.
Harry replied with a resolute tone, "Mr. Ragnok, may I see these vaults? I am hoping to find photos of my family. I don't know what they look like and my relatives have never told me anything about my parents. It's time I learned about my family."
Anger flashed on the goblin's face at his client's mistreatment, and lack of new profit making for the Potter holdings. "Of course you can access your vaults. It is my duty to have the next Potter generation add to our respective coffers. However, until you come of age, you are only allowed to take items of non-monetary value out of the family vaults, though feel free to take books, portraits, and the like. Your trust vault is free to do as you choose. There is also the matter of a will, but we can review the documents later. Are you ready to visit the vaults?"
Harry gave a determined nod and said, "Thank you, sir. Yes, please take me to my vaults." He was about to learn about his family and was equally nervous and excited.
"Excellent. Griphook!" bellowed Ragnok.
Griphook then opened the door and Harry left with him to investigate the life he had missed out on and to see what his future may hold in those vaults.