Molly (And others)
Harry woke up the next day, more excited than he could remember being in a long, long time. He hurriedly got out of bed and rushed through getting dressed. They had argued for hours yesterday, with Mom firmly opposed to them learning magic. After some heated exchanges, and some shocking revelations about his Mom’s past, Dad was finally able to convince her to at least give the place a chance for them, simply in the interests of their safety with their budding magic. After the argument and a hearty dinner, Dad consoled Mom and put the children to bed, then he said he had to go out and left them to go about his business.
So this was the reason he excitedly got dressed and rushed downstairs, completing his chores quicker than he ever had before. So quickly, his mother made him go back and redo all the chores once again, for she did not believe he could do them properly in such a short timeframe. So he trudged back, wiping down the dishes and vacuuming the floors again until eventually, he heard the doorbell ring. He rushed to grab the door, but Molly beat him to it, grabbing the doorknob and sticking out her tongue to Harry as she pulled open the door.
To his disappointment, it was not Dumbledore standing at the door but a different teacher. Father Forthill stood on the stoop, wiping his glasses with a cloth, and when the door opened he looked up, blinking his large blue eyes up at Molly, before slipping his glasses back on, recognition flashing across his face with his vision restored. “Ah, Miss Molly! It is indeed good to see you again. How has your summer been? Been completing the summer school work I assigned you?”
Molly shuffled her feet and didn't meet his eyes as she responded. “Yes, Father. I've been doing the summer work of course. I better go get Dad now!” and with that she ran away, leaving Harry alone with the Father. He stepped forward, waving him inside and closing the door behind him.
“Hey, Father. How are you today? How come you came to visit?”
“It is good to see you too, Harry. Your father called me last night asking me if I was available to babysit young Daniel today. You have somewhere to be?”
“Yes, something exciting happened yesterday! I’m not sure if I am allowed to talk about it, but we will be going out today, around noon! And I did do the schoolwork you assigned! I wanted to get it done early so I wouldn't have to worry about it or hear from Mom.”
Father Forthill nodded and patted him on the head. Harry hated how it felt demeaning to him, but he understood the Father meant well. After a second, Molly came skidding back into the room and Dad came striding in after her, much more in control than Molly. “Hello, Father. Glad to see you could make it.”
“Of course,” Father Forthill said, shaking Dad’s hand. “Anything for you. Besides, I missed little Daniel’s face anyway.” He said as Mom strode in with Daniel on her hip, and he leaned over and picked him up, booping his nose and smiling at him. Daniel giggled and grabbed onto his finger, smiling at him. Then Mom took him by the elbow and steered him into the baby room to give him the rundown of where to find all the things he would need while they were gone.
After a few minutes, Dad went back outside to finish his preparations, and Harry sat down and played a board game with Molly as they waited for the old man to arrive.
“Haha, Yahtzee this, Harry!” Molly shouted as she got the winning roll just as the doorbell rang. Harry jumped up and ran towards it, but Mom got there first, glowering as the tall frame of Dumbledore appeared.
She turned and yelled, “Michael, he’s here!” and then turned back and scowled at him. He took a step forward to come in, and Mom moved to block his way into the house. “You stay right there until my husband gets here to permit you to enter. Or did you forget what happened last time?”
He pressed his lips together in annoyance. “I assure you, Mrs. Carpenter, I have no intention of harming you or your children.”
“I don't care about your words. Lies come easiest to the lips of men, as the Lord knows.” Just then Dad arrived, slipping on his titanium armor, which was engraved with magical protection ruins he had paid a small-time wizard to install. They weren't high-grade magic, but they would stop a few magical blasts. The kevlar he put on over it was for more mortal means of murder. “Mr. Dumbledore. I give you my formal permission to come in, may God be my witness that this does not backfire on me.”
Dumbledore stepped into the house as Mom grudgingly moved out of the way, staring daggers at him. Dumbledore went to shake Dad's hand, who turned his back to him and walked into the kitchen, where Father Forthill was cradling Daniel in his arms, as he drifted off to sleep with a bottle of milk in his mouth. He sat down at the table with Mom, prompting everyone else to do the same.
Molly came into the kitchen, already with her jacket on. “Well, are we going now or not?” she asked impatiently, stamping her foot as she realized everyone was sitting down. Sighing, she moved to the table too, sitting on the last remaining open seat. Dad leaned over and gave a hard look to Dumbledore, who had been polishing his half-moon spectacles.
“What, exactly, is your plan for today, sir?” he asked, voice tight.
In response, Dumbledore pulled out a small pouch and put it on the table in front of all of them. “This is called Floo Powder,” he said, opening the drawstrings of the bag to reveal a fine, silvery powder. “It is a magical dust we use on our side of the world, so to speak, to make traveling easier. We throw it into the fireplace, step into it, and say the name of the place we wish to go and it will transport us to that place, providing they too have a fireplace connected to the network.”
“You seriously expect us to just step into the fire with you?” Mom demanded, half-standing incredulously.
“Do not be alarmed. It is perfectly safe and not harmful at all. Wizards have been using it for centuries, along with muggles with no protection. It requires no magical power to use at all,” he said, smiling benignly, seemingly unaware of the hostility radiating through the air, all directed at him.
“And once we go into this fireplace with you, what then?”
“Well, we shall go to Diagon Alley to buy school supplies for young Harry and Molly here, before returning home of course. We have to see that they get fitted for their proper robes and wands, along with all the books needed for the standard first-year students.”
“Very well. Then let us stop waiting around and let us go, while it is still early. God only gives us a finite amount of time.” Dad said, rising and grabbing his bag from under the table. Inside laid his sword and cape.
Father Forthill stood also, pressing his lips together. “I take it this means that the children will not be returning to St. Mary of the Angels Catholic School this coming fall? It will be a shame to lose two of my favorite students.”
“We haven’t determined anything for certain yet Anthony, don’t worry. There is a very good chance you might still see them this fall,” Mom said, giving the sleeping Daniel's hand an affectionate squeeze.
“May you please show me your fireplace, Mr. Carpenter? I need to set up the magic required so that you may be connected to the Floo network permanently. Once I set up these spells, you will be able to use them at any time you wish,” Dumbledore pulled a second pouch out of another of his robe's numerous pockets and handed it to Dad. “I figured you would wish for a way to be able to visit your children if you should need to.”
Grudgingly, Dad took the offered pouch and led him to the fireplace, putting the bag on a lampstand right by it. “Thank you, Mr. Dumbledore. The Lord provides a way to meet all of our needs. Do what you must with the fireplace, I give you my permission.”
Dumbledore reached once more into his pocket and pulled out a long slender stick, made of brown wood. It had many knobby protrusions coming from it, and it fit perfectly into the man’s long slender fingers, seemingly slipping into their standard spot with practiced ease. He flicked his wand at the empty fireplace, muttering “Inciendo!” Suddenly there was a roaring fire in the fireplace, the logs set ablaze and dancing with red-orange light.
Harry’s mouth fell open in wonder, at his first display of true magic in his young life. Before that, some dark corner in his brain had whispered that maybe all this wasn’t truly real, just a fantasy conjured in his brain or a dream. But now? Now he had concrete proof. He felt joy rise unbidden in him, a wild and fiercer thing than he could comprehend. But he felt it, and he reveled in it. Beside him, Molly let out a little squeal, experiencing much the same emotions as he was.
The old man then continued to mutter words that he didn’t understand and swished his wand around. Occasionally, bright glowing sparks would shoot out of the tip of the wand or he would tap the fireplace on certain bricks and make them glow brightly. Eventually, he began to slow down the rapid speaking and began to lower his wand, tapping the back of the fireplace, causing it to glow a dark red and he spoke the word “Aparturum!” He then looked up and said, “It’s do-”
Dad leaped forward and grabbed Dumbledore by his wand arm before he could finish the sentence and yanked him close to his face, a serene face full of anger. “What, in the Lord’s good name, do you think you're doing, inviting the Nevernever into my home?!” he shouted to the old man’s face, which had taken on a very shocked expression.
“Unhand me please,” Dumbledore said, quietly, and suddenly a tension filled the room, low and thrumming. To Harry’s surprise, Dad let go.Dumbledore took a deep breath and when he opened his eyes again, the tension that had just been there moments ago was gone. “If you would please allow me a second to explain, all will be made clear, Mr. Carpenter.” He said, smoothing a hand over his face wearily.
Dad took a step back and glowered. “Fine. You get one chance, start explaining now.”
The old man took a step back. “I keep forgetting how much of what we have worked so hard to keep a secret you know. Remember how earlier I mentioned there was a Floo Network I was connecting you to? Well, most normal witches and wizards do not know this, but the Floo Network is an intricate path of Ways that make up one single, isolated network. Do you know what the Ways are-?” As Dad nodded, Dumbledore continued. “So simply put, this allows us a fast way to travel across the world due to the strange bending of space and time in the Nevernever. Does this satisfy your questions, sir?” Dumbledore finished, rubbing his wrist where he had been grabbed and sending a stern look to Dad’s way.
“Yes, it does. I apologize for acting in anger. I thought you would be endangering my children.” Dad said, his posture finally relaxing, though he did keep a hard grip on his duffel bag on his shoulder.
“Splendid!” said Dumbledore, clapping his hands together and stepping forward. “I shall go first, to show you how it is done. It is quite simple once you get the hang of it.” He pulled the pouch out, opening the drawstrings once again, and pulled out a small pinch of fine, silvery powder. He then threw it into the fire, which to Harry’s wonder, turned a deep, rich green. And then he stepped into it! Without a care in the world, the old man stepped into the fire and yelled out the words, “Leaky Cauldron!” and with a roar of fire, he disappeared, as if he was never there at all, leaving the pouch behind.
Harry's jaw dropped open, and even Mom seemed a little shocked at the scene that had just occurred in front of her. The only one not affected was Molly, who quickly ran forward and, even though Dad grabbed for her, picked up the pouch and threw powder into the fire. She leaped into it, a big smile on her face, and yelled “Leaky Cauldron!” and was gone also, vanished to wherever Dumbledore had gone.
Dad jumped forward. “Molly! Wait for-“ but she was already gone. Muttering under his breath, he quickly grabbed a pinch of dust from the bag and threw it into the fire. He then leaped in, gripping his bag tightly in his fist. He too shouted his location and the flame roared and when it dissipated he was gone.
Harry looked to Mom, who looked back at him. “Do you want to go first, Harry dear, or shall I?” She asked gently, sensing the nervousness in his posture, and the way he gripped the coat tightly around him.
“Y-you go. I’ll be fine,” He replied, hating how his voice trembled. He still felt that wild joy inside him, but it was lessened now, more tinged with a fear that he sternly told himself was completely irrational. Of course, his family was fine. Dumbledore had gone first! That had to prove it was safe. Didn’t it? Shaking his head firmly he told himself to get a grip and he silenced the doubts whispering in the back of his mind. “You go,” he said, this time with more steel in his voice. “I’ll be right behind you, Mom.”
She flashed him a smile. “I’ll be waiting for you, honey. See you in a flash.” With a wink, she picked up a pinch of dust, threw it into the fire, and stepped in also, disappearing like all the rest.
Harry was left standing all alone in the living room, Father Forthill had brought Daniel up for his nap. With a gulp he too stepped forward, reaching towards the bag and grabbing a tiny pinch of dust between his thumb and forefinger. It was rougher than he expected. He thought it would be soft and fine, like silk due to the soft silvery color. Instead, it was more like sand, coarse and rough. He stepped forward slowly towards the fire, trepidation filling him. He drew his arm back, hurled the dust, and watched as from where the dust hit the red flames turned green, spreading out to encompass the entire fire. Licking his lips, he stepped into the fire.
It was not what he expected. It didn’t burn his feet, there was no painful prickling of his soles. His clothes didn’t start to smoke either. It felt like a warm bath around his legs, tickling and wrapping around them. He took a deep breath, inhaling some dust as he did so. Spitting it out, he shouted “Leaky Cauldron!” There was a tugging sensation on his body as if tony hands were pulling from all sides. The fire roared up to encompass him and he screwed his eyes shut at the brightness. And then, he was gone, as if he too, had never been there.
* * *
Molly stamped her foot impatiently, waiting for Harry. Dad was still behind her, and she could feel his annoyed glance at her as he too, watched the fireplace. The room was not that large, about the size of their living room. It was a dingy and dirty place, with windows caked with grime and only a single table in the center of it, along with two uncomfortable chairs. She knew because she had tried to sit in one while waiting for the others and could not even last an entire minute before having to get up again, rubbing at her backside. The only other thing in it was a large fire, with a box full of Floo Powder on top, and a jar with a sign saying, “One Sickle required for use of the fireplace, coming and going.” She had no idea what a sickle was, so she asked Dumbledore while they waited. He had explained to her that it was a wizard's version of money. They had a completely different currency, using things called Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts as their coins. She had been vaguely disappointed that she had gone through all that effort to break open her piggy bank for nothing, but before she could ask how they were gonna pay for school supplies, Dad had arrived, quickly cutting the conversation short.
Finally, Harry arrived through the fire. Inwardly she breathed a sigh of relief, but outwardly showed no sign of ever being worried. She ran forward and grabbed his arm, yanking him out of the fire. “About time, brother!” she said, giving him a quick brush off and hug, before quickly pulling away. “You made us all wait for you! Let’s go!” she snapped, turning away.
She marched across the room, floorboards creaking under her feet as she threw open the door and turned to Dumbledore, who had raised a long bushy eyebrow at her in disapproval. She rolled her eyes, inwardly of course, at his expression. Adults seemed to have this notion that young people like her should not be headstrong and direct! So very annoying. What else was she supposed to do? Sit around and be timid, waiting for the big strong adults to make all her decisions for her, and then meekly do whatever they directed? No thank you! She would control her own life if she very well pleased.
She sighed when no one moved and reluctantly took her hand off the doorknob. “Alright fine, Mr. Headmaster or whatever you are. I suppose I should ask what we are supposed to be doing?”
He nodded, looking at ease and not more than a little smug when all eyes turned to him and waited for his answer. “Well the first thing we must do is go to Gringotts to dra-“
“What’s Gringotts?” interrupted Molly. “Sounds all Gothic to me!”
Dumbledore looked at her and she could have sworn she saw annoyance flash through his eyes but covered it up with what felt like a patronizing smile. “It has nothing to do with Gothicness, my dear girl. It is the Wizarding bank, where all the most valuable and dangerous artifacts and, of course, money is held.”
“Well then, why are we going there?” Harry asked. “We don’t have any money there to pick up?” Her brother said, confusion on his face.
“Ah, but that is where you are wrong, my dear boy. You see, your namesake Potter comes from a very long and very prestigious wizarding pureblood family. Before your Mom and Dad died-“
For the second time in less than a minute, Dumbledore found himself interrupted again, this time by Harry. “Two things, sir. One, my name is Harry James Carpenter-Potter. Carpenter comes first. Always. And second, the people who died, tragic as it was, were not my Mom and Dad. They may not have birthed me, but they were not my mother and father. But those,” here he moved to stand between Mom and Dad, who each put a hand on his shoulder and smiled down, equal parts lovingly and proudly, “these are my family now. And I will kindly ask you to refer to them as such, please, and thank you.”
Molly felt a swelling of pride for her usually soft-spoken brother standing up for himself and rushed over to stand between her parents too, slipping her hand into Harry’s and glaring at the old man, who looked quite taken aback an expression, she thought with amusement, that was becoming quite common on his wizened face. “Yeah, what he said!” she piped up. “So you can stick that in your pointy hat!”
“Molly…” admonished her father gently, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
“Young lady!” said Mom, also hiding her smile.
Dumbledore pressed his lips together. “Very well. Your biological parents, when they died, left a very large amount of money in your account for you to take full control of when you are 18. You are one of the richest people in the entire wizarding world.”
Harry’s mouth dropped open, and Molly could feel her mouth doing the same. On her left shoulder, Mom’s hand fell away, dangling limply in shock, and on her right Dad’s grip painfully tightened, causing her to wince in pain. Dad let go immediately feeling her wince, but was still clenched.
“R-rich?” Asked Harry. “You mean, I have like, a million dollars in wizard gold?”
Dumbledore tipped his head back and let out a deep, booming laugh. One that almost made his face look like the kind old man he had partially pretended to be, in her opinion. “A million, my dear boy? You have several hundred million!”
At this Harry had no reply, his face turning white. Molly, though, had no such reservations. She leaped forward, fist pumping in the air. “WHOO-HOO! HARRY, WE’RE RICH! WE CAN BUY ANYTHING WE WANT!”
Dumbledore stepped forward, and so did Dad. “Now Miss Carpenter, that is not quite true. First off, it is your brother’s money for when he is of legal age, and second, seeing as you are both only eleven, you will need your parents’ written and express permission before you draw out any amount of money.”
Dad nodded. “We will go to this…Gringotts, today, so we can draw an amount of money for your school supplies. And we will set you up so you get a weekly allowance of 1 Galleon each per week. That is the largest single coin currency in your system, correct Headmaster?”
“Yes, it is. I believe it would be roughly equivalent to twenty-five of your American dollars. That is fifty per week in total for them.”
“Very well. Let us stop standing around and get doing something then!” her Mom snapped. “I would like to get back to my baby sometime soon, thank you very much.” She punctuated that sentence with a snort of derision, and, unintentionally mimicking Molly perfectly, she marched her way over to the door and flung it open, Kevlar and Titanium clinking under her clothes, and when she reached for the doorknob Molly spotted the glint of her favorite meat tenderizer tucked into the waistband of her pants.
With her words, everyone began moving, and they left the small dingy room, Harry still clearly in shock. They exited out to a shelf of alcohol and a large bartender, a woman with huge muscles and flaming red hair. A jagged scar was across her face and she had a gold tooth in her mouth. When she saw them come out of the back room, she scowled at them. “Ye betta hav’ paid, ya bloody Americans.”
“Now, now, Ailith,” said Dumbledore as he emerged last, closing the door softly behind him and holding up his hand. “Of course we paid. We would never want to incur your mighty wrath.”
She stopped up short, her face going as red as her mane of hair. “Oi! Professor Dumbledore, I’m so sorry! Didn’t know that these fellows was with ya! My apologies!”
He smiled and patted the woman on the arm. “It is quite alright, Ailith. We were just passing through. Taking some new students to get their school supplies before the school year begins. Meet Miss Molly Carpenter and her brother, by adoption, Harry Carpenter-Potter.”
The moment that name left his lips, the ruckus and noise in the entire room were silenced, like someone had hit the mute button. All eyes and heads slowly turned to look at the two of them, and Molly shuffled her feet, for once not enjoying being the center of attention.
Whispers filled the room, as people began to get up and edge towards them, peering over the bar to look down at Harry and her. “Did they say-“
“Harry Potter?”
“The boy who lived? Truly?”
Suddenly the large bartender who had been so intimidating and scary earlier dropped to her knees, tears streaming down her face, and grabbed Harry’s hand, shaking it vigorously. “O’ thank ye, sir. Thank you so much! My parents died at the hand of Lord Voldemort, they did, defied him to their last. Thank you for bringing death to that horrible monster!”
Then they were surrounded by people shouting thank you’s and crying and cheering and all sorts of emotions. Harry looked just as shocked and confused as she felt, and she clung close to him. Hands pressed her from all sides, faces leaning in, hot breath on her neck and her face and everywhere. She huddled down beside Harry, senses overwhelmed, and he huddled close by her side, muttering thank you’s to everyone. Finally, after what felt like 10 years but was probably just a few seconds, the Headmaster stepped forward and used his body as a shield against the crowd. He drew his wand and thrust it into the air, and from the tip of it erupted a loud banging noise. The noise startled everyone into silence, and he used the silence to yell. “Enough! Leave the poor child alone! Can’t you see you're scaring him? He does not need to be swarmed! Show some restraint!”
The adults, at least, had the decency to look ashamed as they backed slowly away, muttering apologies to her, Harry, and the Headmaster. Finally, the old man nodded in satisfaction and stepped to the side of the children instead of right in front of them. “Thank you. Now if you do not mind, we will be passing through you to make our way to Diagon Alley. We shall return here in roughly one to two hours. Anyone wishing to make Mister Harry and Miss Molly’s acquaintance must have lined up neat and orderly to greet him if they so choose to do so. Do I make myself clear?”
Molly was impressed. For the first time since she had known him, he seemed to show some real authority. He seemed to be completely comfortable and back in his element once again. She hadn’t realized how much like a fish out of the water he had been until she saw him here, organizing and directing a mob with a flick of his wand and a stern but kind voice. And as he strode forward, she saw the crowd parted for him like Moses and the Red Sea. Mom and Dad took positions on both sides of them. His eyes shifted left and right, watching the crowd, face tense. To her right, her mother was doing much the same. With a start, she realized that she was still holding her brother's hand, and she let go quickly. He smiled gratefully at her, and then turned his face forward, back straight, his face a stone mask.
She adopted much the same posture but couldn’t resist looking around the room as they went to a door on the side of the room. The room was full of dark corners, with tables and booths set into them. Fans were spinning lazily on the ceiling, and stools at the bar which she almost bumped into. Dumbledore opened the door for them. The door opened to a dingy back alley, where trash littered the ground from an overflowing trash can. He ignored all this, however, strode to the brick wall and pulled out his wand to tap a brick near the trash can. As he did so, it slid back and then bricks began to rearrange themselves. Molly watched as one hole became two holes, then three, until there was a large gaping archway right in front of her eyes. Her mouth dropped open and she stepped forward. Dumbledore turned towards them with a smile and said in a grand voice. “Carpenters, welcome to Diagon Alley.”
The newly opened doorway opened to a long road, and hundreds of people milled about. They all wore robes and turbans and large hats. Many of them had children about their age or older tagging along with them, carrying books and clothes and even vials filled with unknown substances. But the eye-catching feature was right at the other end of the road. A large white marble building towered over all the other shops, pillars surrounding a round entrance. Dumbledore strode through the hole and beckoned for the others to follow. “This here is the beating heart of the wizarding world, so to speak. All the main shops are here, and that,” here he pointed towards the large white building at the end of the street, “that is Gringotts. As they say in your world, money makes the world go round. That is just as true here. Now come, we just make haste. I believe Mrs. Carpenter expressed wanting to get back to her child soon?”
With that he walked forward, dark blue robes swishing around his feet. Molly followed, the rest of her family trailing behind her as always. As they walked down the cobbled street, people stopped and murmured greetings to Dumbledore, smiling and shaking his hand, not crowding him but rather… gravitating towards him, as if he was a planet among a field of asteroids.
People cast looks at Dad as they trailed in Dumbledore’s wake. Muscles were not a trait common among wizards, and his broad shoulders, large arms, and calloused hands made him stand out. The duffel bag he was carrying also helped, seeing as it was a purely “normal” item. The wizards here seemed to have magical trunks trailing behind them, or bags they stuck anything, no matter what size, in. The storefronts were filled with many books, and magical potions of sorts, and one even had animal cages in the windows. Molly took this all in with wonder, eyes roaming and trying to see everything and everyone at once. But she also caught dangerous-looking pairs of grim men and women patrolling the streets, in red robes and wands in their hands.
Dad noticed them too and stepped up beside Dumbledore, putting a hand on his shoulder to interrupt his various greetings and handshakes. “Mr. Dumbledore, these pairs that are patrolling. Who are they?”
Dumbledore turned his head towards Dad, taking on a reassuring tone. “Don’t worry, those are just the Aurors. Imagine them as your Muggle S.W.A.T teams and military special forces put in one. They are just doing their patrols.”
“Why are they here, then?”
“There have been some… unfortunate incidents here in the past. They are here to mitigate the risk and prevent more of them.”
“What type of incidents?” Dad asked, his voice hard.
“Well, Voldemort might have been vanquished by your remarkable son there, but all his followers were not. They rally occasionally, breaking into the Alley and wreaking havoc. They want people to remember their presence in the eventual hope that their master will return to lead them to victory. Nothing to worry about, I assure you. They have been scared off recently by the presence of these Aurors you see now.”
Dad nodded, some of the tenseness from earlier returning to his form. “But you’re sure we have nothing to worry about?”
“Nothing at all, Mr. Carpenter. Ah, here we are.” Dumbledore said, stopping at the stairs leading up to the pearly white building. “Welcome to Gringotts.”
Molly hadn’t even realized they were right in front of the steps, as she was distracted by her eavesdropping. Now that she had stopped, she took a second to look more closely at the building. It towered above her, marble steps cut perfectly and smoothly. There were not even scuff marks on the pure white stone, even with all the boots passing over it. The large pillars holding up the outcropping above the doorway were intricately carved, with all sorts of magical creatures. One had a dragon curling around it, and another had unicorns galloping through a forest. Still more had large, monstrous wolves battling some squat, hooked-nose foe. She wasn’t sure exactly what they were, she just assumed they were more creatures she hadn’t heard of.
Once again taking the lead, Dumbledore strode up the steps, and she followed eagerly, enjoying the crack of her boots against the marble, resounding and sharp. When she got to the top, however, she shrieked and her eyes widened, hand going to her mouth. Standing on each side of the doorway were squat, vaguely humanoid figures. They had pale skin and large, hooked noses, with squinted beady eyes, dark black and glittering with intelligence. But the scariest part was their sharp, vicious-looking teeth, and their armor. They wore golden armor, with it layered like scales over their body, overlapping so there were no breaks or weak points. And on their heads, they wore helms of gold that came down between their eyes and up their chins, with holes to accommodate their large pointy ears. On their waist, they had a short sword and in their hand, they held a spear, easily five and a half feet long, taller than them, taller than Harry…even taller than Molly. She stumbled back, shocked by the presence of these dangerous-looking creatures right in front of her. Their beady eyes slowly fixed on her, and she bit her cheek to keep from shrieking again and embarrassing herself. They approached her rather quickly, more quick than she would have expected, and one grabbed her arm with his clawed hand.
“Miss, are you-” the creature began to say. But the conversation was cut short when she was pushed aside by a big man, who turned out to be her Dad, as he shouted for her and Harry to get back and dropped the duffel bag on the ground, the long sword unsheathed and glowing brightly in his hand.
He charged the creatures with his battle cry, “Don't touch my family! In Nomine Domini!!”
The creatures, whatever they were, reacted quickly. One of them slipped under her Dad's first swing and brought the spear angled directly to stab into his chest. It ripped through his shirt but was stopped by the black kevlar, the tip getting stuck in it. The other thing ran towards the doors, presumably to get back up. Molly wondered if she should intervene, try and stop the thing from receiving reinforcements, but before she could make up her mind it was gone, sprinting through the doors, slamming them shut behind him… or her. Dad was still dueling the creature, its other arm now holding its short sword. Dad attacked it, with a downward motion meant to sever its hand with the sword off, but it blocked it with the shaft of the spear and crossed it with the short sword, grunting and gnashing its teeth to keep the sword away from the flesh. Dad leaped back and sent a booted foot into its chest, throwing it against the wall with a sickening crack, where it lay, slumped down, with dark green blood oozing from its nose. The sword was still in its hand but the spear was thrown several feet away. Dad stalked forward, leveling the point of his sword at the thing's throat. “Who are you? What manner of creature are you?”
Molly flicked her gaze to Dumbledore, who had moved to intervene but had been frozen in place by Mom, who held his wand wrist firmly, the wand laying on the ground and a curved dagger against his throat, not an easy feat seeing as he was more than a foot taller than her. But the thing that really had him frozen was she had one raised foot above his wand. “Move a muscle, try anything, and I will snap your wand in two. Got it? Now, what have you done, old man? You didn’t tell us there would be foul creatures here. Is this a trap?” With that last sentence, she dug the knife a little deeper, and a trickle of blood ran down his beard.
“Not…a…trap.” He grunted out carefully because of the knife on his throat, his eyes glancing down worryingly at the wand beneath Mom's boot. “They are the workers at Gringotts. It is a goblin-run bank. They mean you no-.”
Before he could finish his sentence, the grand doors crashed open, and two dozen of these goblin things charged through spears bristling, sunlight glinting off golden armor, and surrounding Dad, who was still holding the original goblin guard at sword point. The lead goblin, with several rings in his ears, stepped forward, his voice raspy but surprisingly loud. “Put. The. Sword. Down! Now! Or we will have to attack!”
Dad straightened, sword hanging at his side, glowing brightly still. Molly gulped as she saw him shift his right leg back slowly, and curl in his right arm, which he wielded the sword in. She knew that stance and had seen it many times before as she trained with him or watched him train with Harry. The people around her were staring in shock at this fight playing out in front of them, several having fled. Others were gathering though, eager as a pack of sharks waiting for blood to be spilled.
Suddenly overwhelmed with the desire to do something, she reached forward and grabbed the abandoned spear off the marble dais and held it forward with shaking hands. Her brother, always more level-headed, had already grabbed the other spear the goblin who had fled had left in his haste and was holding it tightly. She saw his eyes blinking rapidly, which she knew as one of his ticks, but he stood firm.
Dad drew up his sword. “I will not let you hurt my family, creatures of darkness. Lord in Heaven, protect me as you have for so many years. I trust in Your guidance. Amen.”
“Wait!” cut in Dumbledore’s voice urgently. “This is all a big misunderstanding! I should have realized that you might not react favorably to goblins, seeing your job occupation. But don’t start a fight you cannot win,” he pleaded, face earnest and tense behind the knife. “Look at your children, my good man. Look, and honestly tell me that this would be the right time to start a fight against over twenty armed and heavily trained soldiers.”
Dad’s eyes shifted to them then. Molly tried to stand straight and not show any fear, pointing the spear in the goblin's direction. “Don’t worry Dad! We can help you!” She said, forcing cheeriness into her voice.
But for some reason she didn’t understand, rather than reassuring him, his eyes filled with tears and he slowly got on one knee, laying the sword on the ground in front of him. He then raised his hands over his head slowly, tears still trickling down his cheeks. “Charity, my love, let the old man go. Perhaps this is a big misunderstanding after all. God works in mysterious ways, after all.”
“But these things, Michael! How could these creatures be a part of God’s plan?” Mom asked, knife still on his throat.
“I do not know. But look at Molly and Harry, my dear. We can’t fight. Not here, not now. Please, let him go.”
Mom sighed, the knife dropping to the ground with a clatter. She too got on her knees, raising her hands above her head. “Kids, put down the spears. Right, this instant.”
Harry dropped his spear immediately, getting on his knees. Molly did also, after some hesitation. She didn’t get on her knees, however. She didn’t do anything wrong, so why should she, she thought angrily, standing tall and proud.
Dumbledore sighed, rubbing his neck and stooping over to pick up his wand. “Please, Captain Grivpong, you don’t need to do that. This is all one big misunderstanding.”
“You call a large man running up to the doors of Gringotts and attacking my men a simple misunderstanding, Dumbledore?” The goblin with the rings on his ear demanded, swinging around to face him. “Because I call that an attack. And attempted murder. A threat that needs to be dealt with for the safety of this establishment. These are sovereign grounds. We do not recognize your authority here.”
“I vouch for him. He has simply had bad experiences with your kind in the past, and other such creatures. Look at that sword. Surely you know what it means, or have goblins forgotten that much?”
The Captain sighed, leaning over to examine the sword. “Yes, it is fine craftsmanship. Almost as fine as our goblin’s–wait.” He looked up, his eyes widening. “Is this what I think it is? Is he a Kn-”
“Shush! Not here. There are too many listening ears. Please take us inside. We can talk there.”
“Fine, we’ll take you inside. But you just earned yourself a private audience with Lord Gringotts. You can explain this mess to him. And you two,” he pointed to two of his goblin soldiers, “Get him to the infirmary. Doesn’t look too bad, but he still needs to be checked out. And you five, come with me. Now.”
Dad slowly got up, reaching for his sword, but it was snatched by the Captain, who strapped it to his back. One of the others got the duffel bag, and she helped Harry up, walking in the circle the goblins created around all of them. They trudged through the doors and found the large grand foyer clear, two long booths lining the wall with chairs set up at even intervals behind them, and writing implements. There were large cracked pillars that they walked between and a massive chandelier hanging from the ceiling. The floor was marble inside also, with gold circles and patterns laid into the ground. No one was sitting at any of the long booths or the main desk sitting in a straight line from the doors.
All the customers had long fled, and the reason was immediately apparent. Inside were more goblins, dozens of them, each with their armor and deadly stance, pointing weapons at them. The captain waved them down. “Don’t worry. They have agreed to surrender peacefully. We are taking them back to visit Lord Gringotts. You may all return to your duties.”
With an audible sense of relief, the goblins began to disperse, breaking ranks and putting down swords and spears and axes. They still watched them warily as they were led down the lengths of the counter, and at the main desk they were maneuvered around it, and two guards pushed open the double doors behind it, guiding them through. The doors opened to yet another long hallway, this one much more tight and compact than the last. There were no fancy patterns on the floor, no hanging chandeliers or pillars. It was just a straight, simple hallway. They were marched around a corner, the armored boots echoing ominously in the enclosed space, and then they were at a large brown door, with a nameplate engraved on the front of it. The nameplate said, in cursive writing that shifted between two phrases, Lord Gringotts and then the phrase, Chairman of the Gringotts Bank for Witches and Wizards.
Before opening the door, the Captain turned towards them, his beady eyes slit. “You are about to be granted a very rare honor. You are going to meet the leader of Goblinkind. Witches and wizards rarely get to meet his Lordship. For Muggles, it is almost unheard of. Behave accordingly. Also, I am sorry Dumbledore but I am going to need your wand. Safety precautions, I’m sure you understand.”
Dumbledore nodded. “Of course. Just doing your duty, after all. Here you go.” He pulled out his long-knobbed wand and handed it to one of the goblins who put it in a small brown sack. The captain leveled a long, steady look at Dumbledore, who sighed dramatically and reached down under his robes, and pulled out a second wand. It was long and black, with a silver handle from which the wood twisted to a point. It was intricately engraved with runes and symbols and was around 15 inches long, give or take. Grudgingly he handed that wand also to the goblin, who put it in the same sack and then took out a long black stick and ran it over Dumbledore's body like a metal detector used in security.
Seemingly satisfied, he nodded and then moved to stand in front of Mom, holding the sack out to her. “Your hammer please, ma’am.” He said in a high nasally voice, waiting patiently. She sighed in a fair imitation of Dumbledore and reached behind her, pulling the hammer out of her waistband and dropping it in the bag.
“Thank you,” the goblin said and moved to stand in front of her brother, of all people. “The small knife in your boot would be much appreciated.” Molly's mouth dropped open as she watched her brother grimace and lean down to slide a knife about 6 inches long from the side of his boot. She suddenly felt woefully underprepared, seeing as even her brother had snuck a weapon just in case. She flushed red as the goblin passed right by her without even a glance in her direction and stopped in front of Dad last. “Your boot knife also, please. Apple doesn’t fall far from the tree in this family, eh?”
Dad smiled proudly at that. “No, it appears that it does not. By the Lord, I don’t know if that is a good thing or a bad thing.” He straightened up, handing him the knife delicately. The goblin just raised one eyebrow and waited still more. Dad cast him a smile. “Can’t get away with anything here, can I?” Then he plopped himself on the floor, and lifting his boot up he took out a long slender knife right from the sole where it had been hidden. “Courtesy of the ingenuity of my lovely wife over there.”
The goblin took the knife and put it in the bag, pulling the drawstrings right. “That’s all, Captain. I must say, I’m beginning to like this family. Very goblin-like. And I mean that with the highest of honors.”
Dad smiled tightly as he got back to his feet. “Thank you. I shall take that as a compliment, I suppose.”
The captain took the bag from the goblin. “All of you are dismissed. I want two guards at this door and two more at the end of the hallway. The rest, you all may re-open Gringotts for business.”
The captain sent one last warning glance their way, which Molly glared back at him. Like she didn't know how to behave? She was the model child! …Well, when she wanted to be anyways.
The captain turned and to his back, she stuck her tongue out at him, as he raised a gauntleted fist and pounded on the door. At his touch the door swung open, to reveal a large, grand office. There were artifacts hanging on the wall, swords and axes and shields, and other such implements. Moving pictures decorated the walls, populated with goblins of different shapes and sizes, most of them sleeping, seemingly. There was a large rug carpet in front of the doorway, and the head of some unidentifiable creature, something that looked vaguely like a mountain lion but with several horns on top of its head, curling back and making a crown of swords. And instead of fangs curling from its mouth, it had several long swishing tentacles sitting above a roaring fireplace. And in the very center sat a large desk, with several quills writing themselves on various forms of paper, and several more teetering stacks of paper waiting to be used. There were miniature moving picture frames there also, and a small glass top, of mosaic glass spinning around in a circle slowly. There were also other strange objects, like a small glass ball about the size of one used in tennis, that was filled with swirling smoke that was tinted red. The last two things she noticed were a hazy mirror sitting in a frame and a small, black handgun lying inches away from it.
And in the center of all these strange objects was a chair, a normal human spinning office chair. It seems hilariously out of place among all the magical objects, especially due to its occupant. A goblin sat there, in an impeccable blue suit, with the same long pointy ears and squinted eyes that every other goblin seemed to have. She also noticed, for the first time, that since he was not wearing armor she could see that their chins were long and pointy. He looked up casually, not at all seeming alarmed. “These are the people I assume were making all the commotion outside? I was considering coming to investigate, but I trusted your capabilities. I did not wish to impede, of course.” His voice was not raspy as the others, instead more deep and smooth. He spoke articulately, and everything about him radiated command, even more than Dumbledore.
“Yes sir, these are the ruffians,” the Captain said, looking disapprovingly up at them. Thankfully, no one was killed and we managed to talk them down.”
“Then why have you brought them to me? I do not need to see them if the problem has been resolved. Everything can get back to business as it should be,” he said dismissively, turning away to head back to his desk.
“It is good to see you too, my old friend,” Dumbledore said, taking a step forward and bowing to the goblin.
Lord Gringotts spun around abruptly, anger flaring in his eyes, and his ears straightening out. “Friend? Do not make me laugh, old man. Goblins will never consider themselves friends of the wizardkind as long as we are labeled as beings. Barely better than the common boggart.” He scoffed derisevly. “Do not presume. That is arrogant, even for you.”
“Sir,” said the Captain softly. “The reason I brought them to you is because of this.” Walking forward, he deposited the long sword, back in its black scabbard, onto the goblins desk.
Lord Gringotts ears curled back on his head and he moved over to his desk, peering over the sword. He grasped the hilt and slowly unsheathed it, his eyes widening with interest. He ran clawed fingers down the length of the blade. “Hmm, very nice craftsmanship indeed. It seems to be goblin influenced, though I cannot say I can recall any record of this particular type of bla-“ His voice suddenly stopped when his fingers got to the crossguard of the blade, and his eyes widened. He looked up quickly and then he looked at the Captain. “It has been a long, long time since a Knight of the Cross has graced these halls. Welcome, Sir Michael Carpenter.” And then he bowed, a shallow and short bow, but a bow all the same.
Dad smiled and bowed down also, deeply and humbly. “It is a rare thing to meet someone who knows of me, and yet I do not know of you. I wish to formally apologize for attacking you and your men, Lord Gringotts. I must admit I am still at a loss to know exactly what you are. Do you not serve the Erlking and all the dark forces at his command?”
Lord Gringotts got back in his chair and waved for them to sit on the chairs on the other side of the desk. “Please, sit. We shall talk this over like civilized beings. Refreshments? I can offer you some of the finest goblin ale. Or we have juices from the Muggle world for the children. Ah yes, the children. Where are my manners?” He reached out a hand to Molly, which she took hesitantly. It was cold and hard, not at all slimy like she expected. The claws pricked her palm, but she tried to make no sign of discomfort. “Hello, child. It is a pleasure to meet you. What is your name?”
“My name is Molly!” she said, looking around in wonder. “Wow, a real goblin! What’s that?” she asked, pointing to the head above the fireplace. “And that! And that! And that! How are the paintings alive?” She said, speaking rapidly, eyes shifting everywhere, trying to ingest it all at once.
Gringotts let out a deep laugh and smiled at her mother. “Ah, the wonder and excitement of youth. How I wish I was as young as your beautiful children sometimes, Mrs. Carpenter. Be patient Molly, and all shall be explained.” He then turned to Harry and shook his hand. “And your name?”
“My name is Harry James Carpenter-Potter sir.” Her brother replied, returning the handshake firmly.
The goblin lifted an eyebrow and the Captain let out a startled hiss behind her. “Potter, you say? It seems, Captain Grivpong, we have not one but two legends before us. What a… unique day for goblins, indeed. It is very nice to meet you indeed, Harry. We goblins owe you a great debt. Now, back to the business at hand,” He said, folding his hands in front of him. He looked at Dad. Harry took that as his cue to sit down also, where Molly caught his perplexed and slightly proud expression. She too sat down and listened to the goblin speak.
“To answer your question, we do not recognize the authority of the Erlking. We are not even of the same species as the goblins that serve the Erlking. When we still resided in the Nevernever, we were technically known as Hobgoblins. When our ancestors decided to break away and move to the human world, we decided to get rid of the Hob part of our name. It always felt… demeaning. As you can clearly see, we have kept our warrior culture,” here he spread his hands to indicate the various weapons and armor on the walls. “And our talent for blacksmithing we learned from our older cousins, the trolls. But now we… we live a peaceful life as bankers. It affords us a modicum of some standing in this world, even though it is not much. I’m sure our ancestors would be mightily disappointed to learn of our current status in the Wizarding world.” He once again looked at Dumbledore with a side eye, who hadn’t said anything since his failed attempt at shaking hands. “So I forgive you for your hasty, if perhaps understandable, attack on my men.” His voice turned hard, however, when he continued. “It won’t, however, be forgiven a second time. Let us wash our hands of this nasty business, shall we?” He sat back in his chair, running his fingers through his mostly bald head, and looked seriously at Dad. “If you agree, I shall give you back the sword and we shall put this behind us. I will not say we are friends, for I am a goblin and you are a human, and you no doubt have had the blood of my cousins on that blade. But, acquaintances, shall we?”
Dad nodded solemnly, bowing his head in recognition. “Yes, acquaintances it shall be. I once again humbly apologize, in the name of the Holy Father, for attacking with such haste. I had felt that Dumbledore had led us into a trap.”
The Captain chortled at that, though quickly fell silent when the Lord Goblin sent him a stern look. He then slowly got up from his chair and presented the sword back to Dad, reaching around Harry, who had to duck to get out of the way of the proffered blade. “Take good care of this sword. It would be a great loss for such an exquisite piece of artwork to be lost.”
Dad took it and clipped it into his belt. “Of course. It has seen me through many tight and dark spots. May I live to see the day where I may let it be laid into the hands of another and I can retire to take care of my family.”
Lord Gringotts eyes sparkled as he sat back in his chair and smoothed his suit. “If that day should come soon, and you do not have a successor in place, the goblins of Gringotts shall happily watch over it for you, in our most secure vaults. For a price, of course. Now,” he clapped his hands together. “What can we do for you? Why have you come here?”
“We came here to get some money from my son’s vault to pay for his school supplies. I also wanted to sign a form allowing him and my daughter to each get one Galleon per week as an allowance, to be revoked at any time we choose.” Mom said, leaning forward. “Is there any possible way we would be able to get word to you if we choose to revoke this privilege?” As she said the word privilege, she cast a glance at Molly. As if she was the most likely to do something wrong. How ridiculous!
“Yes, of course, there is, Mrs. Carpenter. You can send a phone number to one of our various bankers, and they will relay the message. We had this system put in place specifically for parents of Muggleborns just like you. You will just have to send the proper forms showing that you have legal ownership over Harry here. I shall overlook it this one time to get supplies for school, but please get it to Gringotts as soon as possible.” Gringotts said, pulling out a piece of paper and scribbling on it quickly. “Here you go, this is one of our main phone numbers. I trust this will not be a problem?”
“No problem at all!” said her mother cheerily, tucking the piece of paper into a pocket on her coat.
“Lord Gringotts, I also require an item from my own personal vault,” said Dumbledore, standing up and adjusting his robes. “I sincerely thank you for your time spent dealing with this unfortunate incident and I hope we will have a more calm relationship in the future.”
“Ah yes. Calm like a carton of milk that has long gone spoiled.” He smiled wryly at that and stood also, leading them to the door. “Captain, if you will lead them to their vaults? I believe Griphook knows the location of the key to the Potter vault with him.”
“Will do, my Lord. Well, let’s go folks! Why are you all standing around? Things to do, people to see, things to get! Move it!” Captain Grivpong barked, opening the door and motioning for them to leave.
“It was quite a pleasant experience, for the most part, to meet all of you. Hopefully this will not be the last of our meetings, Carpenter family,” the Goblin Lord said, as he inclined his head to Dad, and then Harry in turn, who flushed slightly and nodded his head back, casting an uncertain look towards Molly, who just shrugged.
“It was a pleasant experience for us too, I believe I speak for all of us when I say that,” said Dad, ever the diplomat. “The Lord provides in mysterious ways, and this meeting was certainly born from… mysterious ways.” He let out a laugh, which the goblins shared. “Have a good day, Lord Gringotts.”
“And you as well,” he replied, and kindly but firmly closed the door behind them as they exited.
Molly felt disappointed that she never did learn what that mysterious head above the fireplace was, but she shrugged. She was going to see all these piles of money her brother suddenly had! She felt a grin spread across her face and feeling excitement course through her, hurried after her family.
They re-entered the main room, which was once again occupied by goblin bankers, all in impeccable suits, and working at the counters, signing forms and giving keys and other such banker duties, she assumed. The Captain marched up to the closest goblin, had a quick and hushed conversation with him, in which his eyebrows grew steadily and steadily higher, casting many glances at Dad and her brother, and then he hopped off his stool, went under the counter and then climbed back on, handing a small golden key, with a tag attached that had an ornate P engraved on it, to the waiting hand of the Captain.
She eyed the key. So this was what would allow her to enter the vaults. She played with her hair excitedly, and the Captain turned to them, motioning once again. He led them to the left, and to a large, and thick iron door. It had a huge sliding lock on it, like the ones she saw in the public bathrooms, though this one actually looked effective. A massive goblin stood by it, almost as big as her, with bulging muscles barely contained in his clothing. He grunted and walked towards the door, undoing the lock and pulling the door open. He strained, muscles tense, and stepped backward steadily, the door scraping the ground and groaning. He finally got it open enough for them to walk through, and once they went through she looked back to see the goblin push it with far less effort, and the door swung closed easily.
“Captain! How come the door closes so easily but it takes so much effort to open it?” she asked, running up beside the Captain.
“Oh, it has an automatic brake in it, so to speak, that makes it have to be opened manually. But once it is open, the brake system turns off and the door can be swung automatically closed quite easily. Hard to break in, but easy to trap once the potential robbers are.” He said with a wink, and a grin that showed many of his sharp teeth.
“But… why would you want to trap the robbers in with all of the vaults?” she asked, confused as they walked in a tunnel slowly sloping downwards, seemingly carved directly from the rock itself.
Once again the Captain gave that little, evil grin. “Oh, the vaults are not the only thing down here, little Miss Carpenter. Any robbers that want to steal from our establishment are going to have a few nasty surprises to contend with first.”
She gulped, but was also fascinated at the same time. “Like what?” she whispered to him, casting her eyes around to see if there were any hidden creatures watching her right now.
“Well, we can’t give away all of our secrets, now can we?” he replied with a wink. “And here is our ride. Get in, everyone.”
He motioned to, of all things, an old minecart sitting on a track that looked like it hadn’t been cleaned or even checked up on in years. There was also a second minecart on a different track, just as worn and dirty.
“You, Glanginn, may you please take the Headmaster down to his vault? He has the key already, so you can take him down. I will be taking these folks to get some money from their vault, can you handle him?”
“Yes of course. Come with me please, sir. Your key?” The goblin named Glanginn asked, holding out a clawed hand.
Dumbledore handed it to him and turned towards Dad and Mom. “I shall leave you in the Captain’s capable hands. I shall see you in about a quarter of an hour.” And with that he turned away and clambered into the minecart and was speeding away.
“You expect us to get into that?!” Her mother demanded, gesturing to the rickety cart on the rails. “At that speed?! Are you mad? Is something wrong with your eyes?”
“No, you're thinking of Mad-Eye Moody,” the Captain calmly replied.
“What?”
“Never mind. Anyway, don’t worry ma’am, it is completely safe. It has the highest protection spells and toughness money can buy. You shall be completely safe in it, I assure you. In fact, I dare say you wouldn’t be able to die in it even if you were trying.”
She pursed her lips together and crossed her arms. “Fine. As long as my children are safe, I suppose.”
“Great! Now let us go make haste!” He hopped in the cart and pulled out the key he had been given, and put it into the front panel, next to the lever to make it move. He then pulled out a secondary key, this one silver and dangling on a chain from his pocket. He put this one in also, and turned both of them simultaneously.
“What’s that for?” asked Molly, assuming the seat closest to the driver's position.
“Full of questions aren’t we?” said the Captain wryly, but with no real annoyance. She was good at spotting that at this point. “It’s to operate the cart. All goblins carry this grey key here, and the vault key is to lock in the destination so to speak. It assures us that the cart cannot go anywhere but that vault and back, and that is the only sure way to get to that specific vault also.”
“Oh! Like a locked GPS system!”
“Sure kid. I have no idea what that is, but sure.” He then turned to look at everyone to make sure they were seated. “Now make sure everyone’s arms and legs are inside the cart. I’m about to turn on the protection seal and any extremities sticking out will be sliced off magically. Everyone good? Great. Let’s get rolling!” He turned and winked at Molly. “I love this part.” Then he pulled the lever, and the minecart was moving at speeds faster than she had ever moved before.
To say that the wind slapped her in the face would be the understatement of the century. It was more like the wind walked up to her calmly, holding a scalpel, and decided to peel the flesh from her head. She slammed back into the seat with an oomph of exhaled air, and labored to take in another one. Her fingernails dug into the upholstery, which she noticed slipped naturally into holes made by previous occupants who had clearly experienced the same thing. They shot down the darkness at breakneck speeds, and if that wasn’t bad enough, the track twisted and turned also, careening left and then ripping right. She was also doused in cold water as they unexplainably shot through a waterfall that was pouring down from the ceiling. Despite the Captain’s assurances that they were completely safe, she felt sure they came close to dying several times. It didn’t help that he managed to keep his footing somehow and he looked back at them and their expressions and began to cackle madly.
Then the cart was stopping, and against all logic and laws of physics, it was a soft stop. She had expected to be thrown forward in her seat, but no, it just stopped abruptly, shuttered once and was still.
She stumbled out, and immediately leaned over the edge towards the gaping abyss and threw up noisily over it. Mom grabbed her shoulders to make sure she didn’t tip over, and when she was done and slowly straightened up, the Captain handed her a handkerchief wordlessly and patted her on the back, almost making her fall off the edge. He then turned and gestured to an enormous vault door hewn into the rock in front of them. “Welcome, Mr. Potter, to your vault. If I may, one last time, have verbal confirmation that you are, in fact, Harry Potter, son of Lily and James Potter?” Once she was composed once more, she noticed that Harry had managed to keep his breakfast down, even though his face looked a little strained from the effort. From a pocket under his armor he pulled out a short black stick, with a cupped ball on the end and held it towards him. “Please speak right into this. It’s a secrecy sensor, it will detect lies.”
Harry leaned forward and spoke directly into the cupped end. “Yes, I am Harry Potter, heir of the Potter fortune and son of Lily and James Potter, may God rest their souls.”
The Captain nodded, satisfied, as the stick did not make a single quiver. He put it away and turned towards the door, pulling out his two keys once again. He put them in slots and turned them, and the huge vault doors locking mechanism spun around, clicked once and the door began to roll to the right, into a hole in the wall.
Molly ran forward, mouth dropping open, as the door opened to reveal piles, over a dozen feet high, of glittering gold, silver and bronze money. She ran inside the vault and threw herself into the piles, like a kid in a pile of fall leaves. One thing she forgot, though, was that piles of coins were significantly harder than piles of leaves. She got right up, muttering and rubbing herself once again. “Stupid coins, being hard and everything.” The rest of the family walked in at a much more controlled pace.
Harry came over with a wry smile and helped her all the way up. “You know you aren’t Scrooge McDuck, right?”
“Oh, shut up.” she muttered, blushing. “But look at all this money!! We could do anything.”
“Molly…” chided Dad gently. “Greed is not a trait the Lord encourages. You know that.”
“I meant we could use it for charity, Dad!” she protested.
“I’m sure you did, Molly. Now, Captain, how much would you estimate we should take for full school supplies for both our children?”
“Depends on how good you want their equipment. The basic stuff, cheap and easy to break, you would need about 100 galleons for the both of them. For the real expensive, extravagant equipment, that’s about 500 Galleons each.”
“We do not need extravagant equipment. The good Father, as just mentioned, does not favorably look on greed or ornateness. But is there any middle ground perhaps?”
“Of course. About 250 galleons each, and you can get them good, respectable equipment that will last them several years but will not be too fancy. Think silver cauldrons versus the pure gold some might buy, just because it is gold.” The Captain replied, beginning to shovel out some gold coins and making a pile to one side.
Dad walked over and began shoveling the coins in his duffel bag, picking them up by the handfuls while the Captain counted them before handing them to him. Molly and Harry began to sneak away, around the gold pile to explore. Mom though, grabbed them both by the collars and dragged them back. “Don't even think about it, you two. You are staying right where I can see you.”
“But Mom, it’s my vault! I want to explore it!” said Harry as she dragged them back to where Dad was filling up his bag.
“I don't care. Who knows what dangers could be lurking around these corners? No. I'm not risking it.”
Molly and Harry sighed dramatically, but allowed themselves to be pulled back. “And that’s 250 Galleons!” said the Captain, pushing the extra coins back on top of the pyramid and dusting off his hands, because the coins were quite dirty after sitting in the vault for over a decade.
“Thank you, Captain Grivpong,” said Dad, zipping up the bag and swinging it over his shoulder with a grunt of effort, the coins inside clinking. “If that is all we need from this vault?”
The Captain took a quick scan and then nodded. “Yes, that should be it. Let’s go, kids.” He motioned them out and then pulled the keys out from the vault door. The huge door groaned and began to roll itself back into place. Molly pouted slightly as the beautiful piles of coins were covered back up and the door to the cart was reopened. She forcefully gulped down before getting on, putting a hand over her mouth in preparation. Dad gripped the armrests tightly, and Mom muttered a quick prayer before climbing in. Even though she was still worried she was gonna throw up, she was excited! This was like those roller coasters down in Disney World, but far quicker and dangerous. She felt a grin play over his face, as she once again sat as close as possible to the driver’s position.
As the Captain clambered in last, putting the keys in the minecart’s keyholes, he turned around and gave a theatrical bow. “We all ready? I trust you haven’t forgotten the rules already! I can see you all enjoyed the ride last time, so what do ya say I take the scenic route?”
“No!” shouted Mom, Dad and Molly in unison.
“Yes!!” shouted Harry excitedly, eyes shining.
He just chucked at them all and turned back around. “Just kidding, of course. If we took the scenic route I would have to kill all of you. Goblin secrets and all.” Dad started to reply, but the Captain pulled the lever and the minecart shot into the darkness, heading upwards.
* * *
The dancing fire reflected in Lord Gringotts eyes as he sat in this armchair by the fireplace, reflected only by said fire and the pipe in his mouth that he was steadily smoking on.
“We should have told them!” snapped the voice of the occupant in the other armchair across from him.
“Perhaps,” he murmured, deep in thought. “Perhaps not.”
“They would make valuable allies, brother,” said the other, who was Brangotts, his younger brother and general of the Goblin nation. “Harry Potter is a great political force simply by existing. The soft-spined excuse of a Ministry will bend over backwards to appease him. And a Knight of the Cross is nothing to scoff at either. Neither of which will be of any use to us if they are dead!”
“And if the boy does not survive?” countered Gringotts. “It is inevitable that the boy and him shall duel later this year.”
“We don’t know that! You are just speculating.”
“Don’t be a fool, brother. Dumbledore clearly thinks he is being clever, but putting the Philosopher's Stone and his greatest enemy, Harry Potter, in one place at one time? No, Dumbledore knows exactly what he is doing. We should sit back and play the numbers. We are goblins, after all. It is our speciality,” Gringotts replied, clawed hand digging into the dragon leather armchairs. “What would happen if Harry duels the Dark Lord, and he loses? And then he finds out we forewarned Harry about his survival and life? He would come to Gringotts and slaughter us. Is your memory so short that you have forgotten our numerous casualties in the first war?”
“No, of course I haven't,” answered his brother, subdued and his voice gruff with grief. “They were my men after all. My responsibility. But he took us by surprise last time! You underestimate the strength of our warriors, brother. We could take him, given time and preparations, of which we have had many in these last ten years.”
“And the rumors, have you accounted for those?” said Gringotts, who turned and glared steadily at him. “You know the rumors of how his power has mysteriously grown, doubled or even tripled? That he can do new spells and perform feats that even the likes of him never could before? That he and his followers leave houses where they have murdered enemies smelling of brimstone and death? Are you ready to account for those?” He sighed, his anger abating, and sat back heavily in his chair. “None knows more or has more faith in our capabilities than me. But for you, you just have to worry for the men and women you train, and they would all follow you to certain death in the name of the goblin nation. Me, I have to also worry about what happens after that certain death meets you. The women who stay with the children, the old ones too weary and tired to fight. And the children themselves. I have to worry about what happens when the enemy is knocking at these doors, and there is no one left to defend us. Because, as history has shown us many times already, the wizards will not aid us. They will let us be slaughtered to save their own sorry hides. No, it is safer to sit back and wait, my brother. If Harry somehow wins, then we know who to back.”
“And if Voldemort wins? He has survived what looks like certain death before.”
“Well, then we are no worse off than before. We will still be seen as lesser creatures, but so will every half-blood, Muggle-born, and Muggle. We will finally be on an even playing field with the majority of the world.”
“And the boy? He will die,” Brangotts shot back.
“Boys have died before. He is not a goblin, so it doesn't matter. It’s no great loss.” Gringotts said dismissively, staring back into the fire. “Either way, it is a win-win situation. Either he survives, and we get a valuable ally. Or he dies, and we are right back where we started out. Play the numbers, watch the stakes. Don’t bet on either side just yet.”
Brangotts sighed, shaking his head and getting to his feet. “You make a compelling argument, brother. Let us wait and see. As you say, the boy is no goblin.” And with that, he turned and left the room, leaving him alone with the fire and his thoughts.