Chapter 3
As he looked up at the towering snowy white building, which glowed even in this light, was more majestic than the other shops all around it, and was easily ten times bigger than all of the shops in Diagon Alley with the sign saying the building was Gringotts: Magical Bank, Harry knew this was the best place to find information about his family, after all, if they were still alive then his parents likely banked with them.
When he and Petunia had walked through Diagon Alley, Harry had been upset they had not come here during the day; he was extremely curious about the bookshop, and he wondered what kind of books the shop sold; what they said about magic and what kind of magical subjects there were.
Magically reaching out towards Petunia, aiming for her throat, and grinning as yanking his aunt forward, making her choke a little bit and he pulled her mercilessly along inside.
But he stopped when he saw the guards. They were short, smaller than Harry, and wearing red and gold ceremonial armour. They had swarthy faces, with pointed chins and dark beards. They had long pointed fingers and feet. They were armed, too with spears and axes; for a moment, Harry merely assumed the weapons were ceremonial, but a closer look showed they were much sharper than a ceremonial weapons, and Harry made his mind up that he was never going to get on the wrong side of these people.
As they bowed as he and Petunia slowly walked past them, Harry's mind raced as he tried to figure out what they were; he was tempted to ask them out of idle curiosity, but he didn't want to be rude. These people could be his only hope of discovering the truth of what he'd heard about his parents, and the last thing he wanted to do was alienate them. They came to another set of doors, silver this time.
There were words engraved on the door;
Enter stranger, but take heed
Of what awaits the sin of greed,
For those who take, but do not earn,
Must pay most dearly in their turn,
So if you seek beneath our floors
A treasure that was never yours,
Thief, you have been warned, beware
Of finding more than treasure there.
Harry found the poem both ominous and more than a little threatening. If he'd entertained any thoughts of stealing something from Gringotts, those ideas were now forgotten right now. He had no idea what happened to thieves here who failed to heed this warning or what other things they could do to their enemies, which was veiled by the nicely worded poem. Something told him cutting people up with their axes and being skewered by the spears was a crude possibility, but something told him they would do something more brutal, yet subtle.
As Harry walked inside with Aunt Petunia, they passed a patron who shook their head and muttered, "Bloody greedy goblins."
Goblins.
At least he knew what they were now. When he and Petunia walked into the bank, the first impression Harry had in mind was when he looked around as it reminded him of the bank in the Disney movie, Mary Poppins which the school had shown. There had been no way the movie would be watched at Number 4; the Dursleys hated Disney, but now he knew of their loathing for magic, he could understand why now.
The Dursleys had once or twice been forced to take Harry to the local bank in Little Whinging, but there were several differences between this bank and that one; forgetting the goblins, the non-magical local bank staff were protected by sheets of glass, but there was none of that here in Gringotts.
But then Harry spotted several goblins wearing some kind of red and gold armour, the light gleaming off of extremely sharp weapons, suddenly he understood why the goblin tellers were safe and sound. Nobody in their right mind would want to tackle those axes. Harry didn't even want to know how sharp they were; one look at the blades was enough to tell him those razor edges were honed to the point where they could effortlessly and easily slice a man in half.
Walking up to a free teller, Harry spoke politely to the goblin, "Hello, I've been living in the non-magical world, with my aunt and her family," he gestured to his still silent aunt, and a glance and letting his jaw jut out with feral aggressiveness warned her what would happen if she tried to do anything stupid. She got the hint. She stood back, frightened. He turned back to the goblin. "I've only just found out I was a wizard, and I'd like to have a check of my family and their accounts, please."
The goblin was puzzled. "You were raised in the muggle world-."
"Muggle?"
The goblin didn't appreciate the interruption, but answered anyway, "The non-magical world."
"I see, yes I was."
The goblin repeated himself before the interruption to clear his thoughts. "You were raised in the muggle world and you have only just discovered you are a wizard, and yet you have a magical family?"
"That's right. My name is Harry Potter."
"Harry Potter?" The goblin said slowly before he lifted a piece of parchment and withdrew a small dagger, before floating them down towards the astonished young boy. "I will need a drop of your blood for authentication. Drop the blood on the parchment."
Harry frowned at the command, but after he braced himself he cut his finger. He dropped some of the blood from the knife, noticing the strange symbols on the blade and the ornate hilt. Were they runes? He had read enough Tolkien and other fantasy writers to know about runes. Pushing his curiosity aside, he flicked the knife over the parchment. The goblin summoned the knife and the parchment back to him, and he waved his hand over the parchment, and the sheet glowed purple for a moment before Harry, looking through the sheet saw writing appear.
The goblin lifted his head. "It appears you are who you say you are, Mr Potter. My apologies. However, we at Gringotts are charged with customer confidence, you understand."
Harry did. "What now?"
"I will make sure this gets to the Potter account manager. You and your….aunt," the goblin teller looked at the still frightened Petunia, "will go to meet him." The goblin teller called for a colleague, and a second goblin appeared. They exchanged words in their language, a harsh guttural sound, with words strung together. The goblin teller handed the second goblin the sheet, clearly giving instructions.
"This way, Mr Potter," the second goblin walked off, and Harry compelled Petunia to follow. The goblin led them through a maze of corridors until Harry was very lost. Finally, the goblin brought them to a door with the brass plaque labelled Potter. Underneath it was the name of the account manager.
Bloodbringer.
The goblin knocked on the door.
"Enter!" The harsh reedy accent of another goblin called, and the goblin who'd escorted Harry and Petunia opened the door, gesturing for them to follow impatiently. The office reminded Harry more of a museum, with the weapons on display; they were as vicious looking and as sharp as the ones he and his aunt had seen in the hall. There were filing cabinets made from rich dark wood which stood out in the blood-red decor which gave a very gothic air to the room.
Sitting behind the desk was an old goblin, Bloodbringer Harry was sure his name was, who was looking at him shrewdly. "You are Harry Potter? I thought you were a squib."
"What's a squib?" Harry answered his question. "Is that what you call people who can't do magic?"
"It's what magical families who have a child who can't perform magic call them, yes. I was truly surprised; I had assumed with how powerful your parents were, and how diverse your family tree has been over the centuries by marrying people from non-magical lines, none of the latest generations would have been touched by that."
Harry didn't understand it either. "Do you have any theories? I've always known I had some kind of power; I only discovered it after I learnt anger and fear triggered it off."
Bloodbringer sat back. "How much do you know of the magical world's history, Mr Potter?"
Harry spared his aunt a look and then turned back to Bloodbringer. "Nothing," he said simply.
Bloodbringer sighed. "Very well. I have no time to give you a full history lesson, Mr Potter, nor do I want to give one. If you wish, buy a history book. Yes, they will be biased and flawed in many ways, but the general story will be accurate enough."
Harry nodded, giving his full attention to the goblin.
"From 1978 to 1981, Magical Britain was at war. On one side was the Dark side, led by the Dark Lord known as Lord Voldemort; oh, if I were you, I would not speak the name out aloud, because he cast a spell over his name so when someone spoke it, he would appear or would likely despatch some of his followers, and they would kill and attack the ones who spoke it. On the other side of the war, was the Light," the goblin said the word with a large amount of derision, giving his opinion of them very well, "compromised of the Order of the Phoenix, of whom your parents are still a part of, and the Ministry of Magic.
"While we, the goblins of Gringotts were neutral, along with many magical beings and creatures whom your fellow wizards are prejudiced towards, the war gradually shifted to the Dark's favour. The Death Eaters, the followers of the Dark Lord, had almost won. The Ministry was on the point of collapse, and every day there were more reports of more death and destruction. And then it changed. The balance shifted when the Dark Lord attacked your family."
Harry listened tensely. He already didn't like where this was heading.
"Your brother was announced as being the Boy-Who-Lived because the Dark Lord failed to kill him with the killing curse. How this was accomplished, we don't know. The killing curse has no counter. Your parents were out at the time, and they had left golems of themselves to maintain a protective watch over you. A golem is a magical construct; if well made, they will exhibit identical personality traits to the ones who created them," Bloodbringer added. "Your brother has a scar on his cheek from where the killing curse struck him. While he has never been seen in public as your parents have become paranoid in case of danger, which is well founded as many of the Dark Lord's followers escaped justice and lied about their allegiances, I have met them many times. When I inquired about you, they claimed you were a squib. So you can understand my surprise."
"I can," Harry was unsure how to take this story, but as he thought about how it would affect his long-term plans; for now he would just ignore it. "Did my parents give me and my…twin," it was hard to believe there was another boy like him out there, "have some kind of test made that would test us for magic, after the attack?"
"I believe so."
"Is it possible for a re-test, here and now?" Harry asked, and the goblin saw the way the boy's eyes glowed and flashed magically in rage. "I want to know the full scale of their mistakes."
Bloodbringer nodded. "Very well, Mr Potter," he replied before he wrote a quick letter, pausing once or twice, making Harry feel he was choosing his words with extreme care. Finally, he finished the letter, waved his hand over it and Harry gaped when he saw the letter vanish. A few minutes later, there was a knock on the door. It was a harsh rap.
"Enter!" Bloodbringer called.
The door opened and a new goblin walked inside the office.
Harry studied him closely, seeing that this goblin was dressed in a slightly different outfit in emerald green, and there was a blue and silver badge on his breast. The second goblin glanced at Harry.
"Is this him?" He asked.
Harry frowned at the goblin's attitude, but Bloodbringer answered for him, "Yes, this is the young wizard, but we need to determine if the wizard healers made a foolish mistake. You know the details already."
"Very well, let's get this over with," the goblin said looking at Harry in a manner which reminded the boy of how the Dursleys had viewed him as they thought of him as a waste of space. The goblin walked over to Harry and waved his hands, pointing his long finger into the boy's face. The nail, or rather talon was so close to his face, Harry could see the little pockmarks. He looked down in amazement when his body began to glow from white to green colour. Petunia whimpered, not liking this further show of magic.
The goblin healer ignored her, concentrating a little bit more. "This boy is a wizard, Senior Account Manager. A very powerful one. He shows signs of malnutrition and bone breakages," the goblin healer side-eyed Petunia, his lips curling and revealing his sharp, tiny pointed teeth in a manner that reminded Harry of a shark.
It seemed Petunia recognised danger when she saw it because she curled up, trying to make herself look as small as she physically could.
"Muggles," the healer muttered in contempt before he lifted his gaze, reaching into his pocket and drawing out a small ornate Gordian knot with a large collection of gems.
Harry studied it curiously, "What's that for?"
"I scanned you, Mr Potter, to determine if you have magic or not, but this knot will reveal your magical talents and potential, and with the records, I'll provide in your file, it will prove beyond a shadow of a doubt you were misdiagnosed as a squib," the goblin healer replied, "but by discovering your power level and what your talents are, it will prove your power."
"What do I need to do?" Harry asked.
"Place your finger - any will do, I don't care - on the centermost jewel," the goblin healer instructed.
Harry did as he was told. He pressed his finger against the jewel, fascinated by the magical properties of the knot. He felt a minute pain in the finger, but it was so fleeting, it was barely noticeable. He passed the knot back to the goblin healer, who held it reverently. After withdrawing his finger, Harry waited with the goblins.
Finally, the jewel glowed, and the goblin healer held out a small sheaf of parchment sheets over the jewel. Writing appeared on the sheets of parchment and when it was over, the goblin healer sped read through them and then handed them to Harry, who took them gently, and he began to read.