Love Him?

Gringotts was exactly how she remembered it. The white marble columns etched with detail felt distinctly menacing as Petunia and Vernon walked up the steps, and the grizzled guards on either side of the doors did not help with that. Still, Petunia nodded to them, careful not to jostle Harry. Vernon copied her after a moment of hesitation, and then they were through the doors and under the high ceiling of Gringotts Bank.

Vernon took the lead when they reached the front of a line before a teller; Petunia’s nerves were gathered in her throat. “Good evening. I’m afraid I don’t know your native language if you have one; I’m not magical. I hope English is alright with you?” He barely blinked at the being’s unreadable stare and Petunia scolded herself for ever doubting him.

It stared down at him for a moment before replying in its gravelly voice, “Goblin language cannot be spoken by a human mouth, but your consideration is appreciated. How may I help you?”

Goblins, that was right. They were goblins. Petunia shifted Harry in her arms nervously. “My- my magical sister and her husband died and left their son on our non-magical doorstep with no explanation apart from a note, and he was injured. We took him to one of our hospitals, but it’s getting worse, and I’m really worried about him. Would anyone of your clan be willing to help?” She said it all very quickly and clutched Harry tighter to her chest.

The goblin blinked. “Well.” It stood up and stepped off its dias, beckoning the young family through a door beside the desk. “We shall move this into my office.”

Vernon nodded and reached for Petunia’s hand, which she took gratefully, and followed the goblin through a short door into an office. The goblin was rifling through a drawer when it said, “Sit down.” Petunia noticed two chairs of human height that she swore hadn’t been there before. She sat carefully next to Vernon, whose eyes were wide at the display of magic.

The goblin straightened up and turned to sit behind its desk, clasping its hands under its chin. “Now. If you were magical, I would have immediately escorted you out of the bank for your audacity.”

Petunia gulped.

“However,” the goblin said, “You are not. You are also only here for the health of your child, and we can respect that. May I examine him?”

She let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding and smiled gratefully. “Thank you. The injury is on his forehead.” She soothed Harry as he whined in his sleep and handed him to the goblin, who took him with surprising ease. It gently brushed his fringe aside, peeled off the bandage, and its eyes widened.

“Well. I am glad you brought him here, as human healing cannot fix this. No, do not fret,” the goblin chastised the parents as they gasped. “We can fix it. For a price.”

Vernon fluttered to pull his wallet from his pocket. “Anything.”

The goblin shook its head. “Not now, first we must find a healer. We will discuss payment later.” 

Then, without waiting for a reply, it sped out of its office and ducked through a different door, Harry still cradled in its arms. It paused until Petunia and Vernon followed it, then hurriedly continued down a long hallway. “Follow, follow; there is no time to waste.”

Finally, the goblin stopped before a dark wooden door, knocking with its free hand. Immediately, the door swung open, and a raspy voice said, “Enter.” The goblin beckoned Petunia and Vernon, and they followed it into a bright, airy room. The floor was the same marble as the rest of the bank, but the walls were a dull blue stone Petunia didn’t recognise, and a warm light was shining from somewhere in the ceiling. The room was mostly empty, save for a short, plain desk, a bed, and a second goblin dressed in a simple white suit. The first goblin bustled over to it, holding out Harry with sure hands and speaking in a language that rattled through Petunia’s ears like rocks. Her grip on Vernon tightened. Then, the second goblin finally turned to them and gave them a surveying look.

“These are parents?” it asked the first goblin in heavily accented English, likely for Petunia and Vernon’s benefit. She gave it a wobbly smile.

The first goblin nodded, and the second goblin gestured to a set of chairs by the bed as the first goblin left. “Sit. I explain.”

They sat nervously as Harry was laid on the bed. Dudley was still fast asleep, but Harry was waking up with little whimpers. The goblin placed a gnarled hand on his forehead, and Harry gazed up at it, whimpers petering off into curious little noises as he woke.

Petunia sighed sadly. “Thank you.”

The goblin brushed her off. “Is job. Now.” It sat in a chair on the opposite side of the bed, hand still on Harry, and faced them seriously. “Child be fine. Procedure not hurt. Most he feels is squeezing sensation. I discuss what happened after procedure. Yes?”

Vernon and Petunia nodded quickly, exchanging glances. “Thank you, Healer,” she murmured. “I hope it’s not too much trouble.”

The goblin waved a dismissive hand. “No trouble, no trouble. You paying. Now, you wait.”

Harry made grabby hands at the healer, who gave him a smooth green crystal to hold, something he immediately began to chew on. “He not choke,” the goblin assured her upon noticing Petunia’s worried expression, pulling what looked like a paint set out of nowhere and drawing a rune on each of his hands. The paint was placed back into nothingness, and more small crystals were pulled out of the goblin’s pockets and arranged around Harry. “Rune anchors,” it explained at Vernon’s questioning glance. He gave a contemplative noise and passed Dudley to Petunia so he could lean forward to get a better look. Petunia took the distraction gratefully and played with her son’s blonde hair as the goblin explained its process in clipped sentences to an intrigued Vernon. 

Finally, the goblin put the remaining crystals back in its pockets and hurried away. Petunia watched tensely as it rifled through a shelf and withdrew many small boxes and vials. It hurried back, muttering under its breath, and laid the contents of its arms on the small table beside Harry’s bed. It fluttered around him, spreading pastes and potions over his forehead and on his hands, and she watched in wonder as the yellow sore slowly receded. The redness and swelling in his face faded slightly, and the goblin, satisfied, stepped away. 

“Lean back,” it warned Vernon, who sat back in his chair and took Petunia’s hand. The goblin held its hands over Harry, wiggling inside a circle of crystals, and began to chant in the gravelly language from before. Petunia watched in morbid fascination as the crystals began to glow and the runes on his hands turned blood red, and the cut on Harry’s face began to open. Harry screwed his face up, but Petunia squashed down her compounding worry and reminded herself to trust the healer. Vernon gasped from beside her; a waxy black substance was oozing from Harry’s forehead and rising into the air, held there by the healer, who had a disgusted look on its face. The chanting stopped, and the healer snapped the substance into a container before Petunia could blink and scowled. “Worst magic.”

“What was that?” Vernon asked, hands making aborted little starts towards Harry. 

“Hold child,” the goblin said absently, and Vernon scooped him into his arms, tracing the air above his now almost-invisible cut, any sign of pain gone. The goblin turned to the door and bellowed a word in its language, making Petunia jump, and the goblin from the lobby scurried back in. The box was handed over with shared grimaces of disgust, and the first goblin was gone again. The healer sighed.

“I tell what happened now.” It sat down again. “Child got injury with very black magic, worst magic, with black ritual.” The goblin held up a hand to a rising Petunia, “Sit. I explain. Child Harry Potter, parents Lily Potter, James Potter, soldiers.”

“I knew it,” Petunia hissed, feeling bile in her throat. A war. A war, for goodness sake!

The goblin was also not impressed. “Wizardkind. Parents highly wanted. Opposing leader murdered them, then attempted murder child.”

Petunia held Dudley tight to her chest and watched Vernon do the same to Harry beside her. She did not dare to speak. The goblin sighed, beginning to look disgusted again. “Did not work, likely from black ritual. Parents made it protect him. Destroyed opposing leader, ending war. Wizardkind thinks child destroy rather than ritual.” The goblin sneered. “Boy Who Lived. Pah!” 

Vernon’s hands were white where they were clasped on his lap as his jaw worked. “He’s famous, I take it?”

Petunia gasped into Dudley’s hair as her emotions raged within her. Her nephew, her adopted son, she faintly reminded herself, was famous. He was famous for the mistakes of her sister, her awful sister. Her awful, famous sister.

The goblin sighed before continuing in a softer tone than before. “Was piece of leader’s soul in child’s head, hurting him, stopping healing.”

“A piece of what?” Vernon asked incredulously, going a little green.

“Soul,” the goblin grimaced. “Not worry, has been removed. No lasting effects. Child fine.”

“Oh, thank goodness,” sobbed Petunia. “Thank you, thank you.”

“You see Teller now,” the goblin commanded, standing. Petunia wobbled to her feet, clutching Dudley with one arm and Vernon with the other. The goblin set off down the hallway and led them back into the office from earlier. 

Petunia was exhausted. She collapsed into the chair before the first goblin and closed her eyes. She couldn’t tell if she was relieved or terrified. Regardless, she was ready for her day to be over. She wanted to be at home with her boys in front of the fire. She heard Vernon pull something out of his pocket and say, “What method of payment do you prefer?”

She cracked an eye to see the goblin give him a distinctly amused look. “Your enthusiasm is appreciated, but that is not entirely what I meant. As I am sure you’ve realised, we value children highly, regardless of their background. We wish to ensure that the child will be safe in your care.”

Petunia glanced at Vernon, who smiled. “Of course, sir.”

The goblin grimaced, “Typically, you refer to a goblin by their title if you know it, Master Goblin if you don’t, and by their name if invited.”

Vernon went pale and bowed his head. “Of course, my apologies, Teller.”

The goblin’s mouth twisted into what Petunia supposed was a smile. “It is of no consequence, I realise you did not know. Make sure to remember from now on.”

“Of course,” Vernon said firmly. “I’ll make an utmost effort.”

“Good,” said the goblin. “Now, we must ask you some questions. We know he is not your biological child; how did he come into your care and how did the events of today come to be?”

Petunia let her head hang and sighed. “He was left on our doorstep in a basket, with a note. We found him on the morning of the first of November, but we think he was left there since late on the thirty-first; he was so cold.” She shivered, looking up at the goblin, whose face was pinched. “We took him to the hospital and they helped him as much as they could, and then we went to the police. They- they couldn’t do anything. Harry legally doesn’t exist in our world,” she said helplessly.

Vernon took over, patting her hand. “They opened a child abandonment case, but we were in such a rush to get Harry help when we noticed how bad the injury got that we didn’t bring any documentation with us.”

The goblin looked rather furious, and Petunia winced a little. It noticed and reassured her, “You did all the right things, do not fret. I am angry at the people who abandoned your child.” It sighed and pulled a document out of its desk. “It so happens that I work for the Potter account manager.” It pushed the document across the table to them, and Vernon picked it up.

[Redacted],

The Lords Potter are dead, and we cannot locate the Heir. Filing this as kidnapping.

Make this a top priority when not on shift. Alert me upon development.

[Redacted], Potter Account Manager

Vernon gaped between the paper and the goblin, and Petunia buried her face in Dudley’s hair.

“Teller, please stop me if I’m making incorrect assumptions, but your clan are in charge of–” he flailed for the word– “of magical peoples’ assets?”

The goblin inclined its head. “Indeed. We were Willed by the Lords Potter to execute their Wills and ensure Heir Potter was placed with his correct guardians. The magical world was and is aware of this, hence the alarm.”

Vernon was turning an alarming shade of puce and he spluttered, “So your clan – the people in charge of ensuring Harry’s safety – did not know where he was?” He placed the paper back on the goblin’s desk as his face cycled between the ruddy purple of his anger and a pale sheen of terror.

“You would be correct,” the goblin rumbled. It stood, bracing itself on the edge of its desk. “Master Dursley, Mistress Evans, I must insist upon obtaining a statement from you, and I must call the account manager here to provide proof of life of the heir.”

Petunia pressed a shaking hand to the base of her throat and nodded. “I will do whatever it takes to make sure Harry is safe.”

Vernon copied her, nodding firmly. “I will, too.”

“Wonderful,” the goblin said, and it pressed a button on its desk and bellowed in its language into it. A rumble replied almost immediately, and it smiled in satisfaction. “In this case, I must invite you to call me Razortooth.”

Petunia bowed as best she could while holding a sleepy Dudley. “Call me Petunia, Razortooth.”

“And I, Vernon, Razortooth.”

Razortooth gave a sharp-toothed smile and leaned across its desk. “Sit, we have much to discuss.”

Twenty minutes later, Petunia was feeling much more confident that whoever wronged Harry would not get away with it. She had been grilled with questions and gave the most detailed statement she could. Meanwhile, a much more grizzled goblin with wiry white hair was scrutinising Harry on the floor, waving a kid’s toy she didn’t recognise with one hand and gently manoeuvring him with the other.

“He seems in good health,” the goblin muttered. “Physically, at least. Mentally, he is still in shock. Magically, he is traumatised. You!” It stood up sharply and pointed at Petunia. “You are related to his mother, yes? Sister?”

“Yes,” Petunia confirmed shakily.

“Good, good,” it muttered, turning back to Harry. “He must anchor himself to you, yes. Come,” it beckoned her. She handed Dudley to Vernon, who took him absently from where he was talking with Razortooth, and sat down beside Harry on the floor. The goblin took one of her hands and placed it over one of Harry’s.

“Account Manager, I–” Petunia took an unhappy breath– “I’m not magical.”

The goblin grunted dismissively. “You are related to a magical person, you have something in there somewhere. Now shut up.”

Petunia shut up, watching as the goblin encased her and Harry’s hands with both of its own and began to chant very quietly. She jolted; her hands were starting to glow, and she barely fought back the instinct to flinch away. The goblin shot her a look, chanting all the while, and she decided to close her eyes rather than watch the unnatural process.

Finally, the rumbling chant stopped, and the goblin cleared its throat. “Right, open your eyes.” Petunia did so, noting with relief that nothing had immediately changed her or Harry, and it continued, “You are magically his mother now.”

Petunia pulled her hand away as if burned and scooted back from the goblin as far as she could. Bile was rising in her throat. “I’m what?”

The goblin gave her a chastising look, which did nothing to calm her. “Mistress Evans, the boy’s parents are dead and his connection to them was severed in the most traumatic way possible. I hate to think of what would become of him if he remained magically parentless with no closure.”

Petunia did not wilt under the goblin’s stare, simply shaking her head and staring at her hands. Lily was– she couldn’t be his mother, she didn’t agree to this, she was bound to him magically and she was not having that in her house. “No,” she said.

“You have no choice,” the goblin said smugly. “You consented by allowing me to perform the ritual.”

Her gut burned with embarrassment and rage, and she glared at the goblin. “You tricked me.”

“Because I knew that you wouldn’t agree, no matter if it would save him,” it snarled. It gestured to Harry, who was now playing with the toy it had put down. “If I did not do this, his magic would lash out. His magic would destroy everything that reminded him of the loss he suffered, perhaps destroying him.”

Petunia swallowed, but the rage still bubbled, so she opened her mouth to speak.

“Petunia,” the goblin snapped, making her jaw whip shut in surprise. “Do you or do you not want this child to live?” It heavily emphasised ‘child,’ and it struck Petunia like a hammer.

“I…” she swallowed, letting her hands fall to her knees. Her head spun. “Yes. I do.”

“Then let me do what I must.”

“Okay,” she whispered. “Okay. My apologies.”

The goblin snorted at her and turned away dismissively, which she thought was fair. She watched as Vernon readily gave his hand for the same ritual. Harry waved his little arms and the goblin handled him exceedingly gently, and she felt her guilt grow.

“Account Manager?” she asked quietly. It shot her a look out of the corner of its eye, and she took this as an acknowledgement. “What will change?”

The goblin paused its examination but did not look at her. After a moment, it sighed. “His appearance may change as this ritual attached you and Master Dursley as his parents. I believe you may understand it better if I explain it like his parents’ genes being replaced with yours.”

Petunia felt like she had been punched. “Oh.”

“He will have your last names, too, but will still be a Potter by magic.” It turned to her, resting its hands at its sides. It looked a little apologetic. “I’m doing this to make sure he has the most normal childhood possible. If everything had gone to plan, I would have gotten temporary custody of him upon Lily and James’ deaths and found him an appropriate magical home. But,” it sighed again. “It was not to be, so I’m trying to keep him from danger in every way possible. The Potter name is dangerous, but in order to protect him properly he still needs to be a Potter.”

She let out a breath that she didn’t realise she was holding. “So…”

“So, he magically has four parents – the Potters and you two – and genetically, two – only you and Master Dursley.”

“Oh.” Petunia rubbed her eyes. She had two sons. Really, she had known this since the previous night, but it felt all the more real hearing it from the goblin. She couldn’t run from magic anymore. 

A tear slipped down her cheek, and a gnarled hand gently patted hers. The goblin sighed quietly. “I’m sorry, Mistress. We will protect you as best we can.”

Petunia sobbed a little. “Thank you.” The goblin took its hand back and she slumped against the wall, closing her eyes. She was so tired. Vaguely, she heard Vernon and Razortooth muttering together. At one point, she was asked to sign something, which Vernon explained were adoption papers, and she did so with little hesitation. Harry was a child, first and foremost. She would not forget that again.

Finally, Vernon gently roused her. “Time to go, darling.”

Petunia wiped her puffy face and scooped Harry into her arms. The toddler blinked up at her and she clutched him closer. Vernon took her arm and guided her out of the bank, back through the Alley, and into the normal world. She felt tenseness seep from her shoulders, and suddenly became aware of her sheer exhaustion. She wilted, strapping Harry into his carseat and all but collapsing into her own, shutting her eyes. 

The trip home was a blur.