This is the my first fic, and the first of possibly many such chapters, where a Harry Potter character makes a big mistake somewhere. All of them could be summed up with an 'oops!'. As I have no Beta yet, and am not a native English speaker, please tell me whenever you see a mistake, or an awkward sentence. I hope that you will have an enjoyable read!


It was a cloudy day, of average temperature for the season, and really quite ordinary in every way, when Harry Potter decided it was time to act. Clearly, neither the Order nor the Ministry were up to par in this war, as evidenced by the Ministry fiasco a month earlier, and it was now up to the Chosen One to pick up their slack. He had grand projects.

He would, naturally, study magics that would aid him in defeating his fated foe – a week or two of hard work, a month at worst, and he should be about equal to Voldemort – but for now, he would negotiate alliances with the various magical species. Dobby already hero-worshipped him, so the house elves were a done deal, he would have to wait until he was in Hogwarts to talk with the Centaurs, he couldn't for the life of him speak a word of Mermish, Remus would be taking care of the Werewolves, and he didn't have a fucking clue as to how to contact the vampires. So, the Goblins it would be.

Undeterred by the lack of dramatic thunder or strategically placed beam of sunlight, the Chosen One strode forward into Gringotts Bank, confident that his unparalleled good looks, his exceptional charisma and his great knowledge of Goblin customs (he had read Hermione's History of Magic notes before coming here) would win him the proud creature's immediate support. One of the counters was free, and Harry immediately approached the person manning it. And, by a stroke of luck so great the gods themselves must have been with him, he recognized the employee: the Goblin currently looking at him impatiently (a look he was certain would soon change to awed wonder) was the one who had shown him to his vault when he first visited the bank, so many years before! Now what was the guy's name, again? Squeezebuckle? Grabclasp? Ah, right!

"Griphook, old chap! How wonderful it is to see you again! It's me, Harry Potter – but you can call me Harry, of course, we don't need formalities between friends, now do we? So, how have you been?"

With a winning smile, the dashing young man waited for the Goblin to overcome his overjoyed reaction at being remembered fondly by a wizard – moreover, one as important as he – and to answer with grateful words and an offer for an immediate meeting with his king.

"My name is Pelkark, sir. If you do not wish to visit your vault, please make way for other customers."


A.N.: Because, really, who'd have remembered the face of someone from another specie, whom they had met five years before, and not seen even once since?