Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Labyrinth or any associated characters. I make no money from this.
Gringotts
A Harry Potter/Labyrinth Crossover
Revised and Continued by RogueMoon
Original Story by Ru
Posted with Permission
Prologue
::: :::
He was lucky the wind was with him, a light thermal giving lift to his wings and letting him glide. A bit of respite in his mad dash for freedom. Much as he disliked wizarding society, he had to fly over the twisted streets to get to Diagon Alley. To get to the large building that loomed so close in his owl sight and at the same time was so very, very far – the nearest entrance to the Underground. The wind died blocks from the goblin made structure and left him flapping wings long since numb from pain and effort. He couldn't even feel when they gave out on him.
He landed in a crumpled heap of feathers that soon resolved themselves into bloodied cloth. Once fine silks and magical linens as ripped and torn as his own skin. The magic that protected him from the senses of mortals was also nearly his undoing as not a single wizard, witch or other magical creature even noticed his fearful descent. Had he not been as strong as he was, or had he flown for a few hours longer, he might very well have passed out from meeting the ground on such unfriendly terms and simply lay there dying with no one the wiser.
It had been years since Jereth had been Aboveground, particularly among wizards, and he had never visited this branch of Gringotts before. The last time he had bothered to check, the British Wizarding world had been at war, the Ministry itself petitioned his goblins for help. Being the king, said petition had been passed onto him and he had denied the request. His people were already too involved with mortal affairs, what with the banking and the baby snatching. He hadn't needed or cared to find out more, though he did eventually grant a petition that allowed the Ministry to seize the assets of some 'Deatheaters' after events had finally played out. Not that the Brits knew anything about him or his involvement. Outsiders need not be aware of his existence and the goblins living Aboveground were very good about keeping it that way.
It was magic that kept him awake, kept him going, gave him the strength to stumble toward the imposing white building that towered over the other shops. It was the magic that alerted the goblin guards standing to either side of the burnished bronze doors in perfect uniforms of red and gold as soon as his foot touched the first of the white steps leading up to that entrance. The magic that allowed them to view their king with wide, disbelieving eyes even as the rest of the wizarding world unknowingly parted for his awkward and wounded strides.
They looked like they wanted to rush forward. Grab him and give their help. His snarl of pride as he forced himself to limp through the bronze entrance all that stopped them. He needed help, yes, but he would be damned if he couldn't get himself through the doors.
It was more impressive than he had given his people credit for, the air itself seeming to vibrate with the invisible presence of very strong protection spells. Some so strong he doubted his own ability to break them even with the full force of the Labyrinth behind him, and that didn't even count the one curse that confused his senses and sang with magic he had never encountered before. He couldn't even pinpoint the origin. Some of his own work was present, crystals embedded in the building itself and being entirely unnecessary. Figureheads in the presence of other more powerful magic.
He leaned against the frame for the silver doors and just looked at what his people had accomplished. Impressive work and advances in magic that left his own vaunted abilities like a child's toy. Had he really paid so little attention to his subjects? Years, centuries had passed, since he gave the crystals to Gringott, the founder the bank, as a token of his blessing on the Aboveground project. Token was right, he hadn't given the crystals or his own subjects outside the Underground any real thought since. They hadn't mattered to him. And yet his own people had placed the crystals in the foundations of the building, treated them as if they were actually important. It was shameful that he hadn't given them the same consideration.
Jereth shut his eyes and called out to the crystals. They would be the easiest to use in his current state. With a deafening silence, they answered him and the clock face at the far end of the enormous hall shifted subtly. The thirteenth hour began to toll.
On the first deep chime, the goblins in the hall stopped. They froze in place, heads tilted to one side, listening. The other mortals looked up at the clock, finding it odd that it would decide to chime in the middle of the hour. A hushed whisper began as crowd noticed the change in the clock face.
When the second chime sounded, every goblin looked to the door, heads turning in a single synchronized motion. The mortals took notice of this now. Of their bankers acting most curiously. They knew it had something to do with the clock, but so far that was their only clue.
On the third chime, the guards outside drew spears and barred the entrance. A commotion born of confusion from those witches and wizards who could no longer see to their funds echoed into the building. The goblins inside, the ones already serving customers, began to work again. The others put away whatever it was they were working on as still more began ushering those not employed by the bank towards the door.
The fourth chime heralded the opening of the doors too numerous to count that led to the vaults. A single goblin in red and gold stepped from each, followed by the confused customers who were returned to the front hall much too quickly, some before they could even set foot near their valuables.
On the fifth chime, the blood oozing slowly from the wound on Jereth's brow finally gathered enough upon his chin to pull a single drop downward. It fell upon the marble floor of the bank, a nearly invisible splash of red that forced the magic of the bank to strip away the glamors protecting him. He became visible to the mortal eye.
The sixth chime sounded and he found himself being gently urged forward, away from the doors and off to the side where he could be protected from the customers still being led out. Some more reluctantly than others. Among those taking their time were Albus Dumbledore and Rita Skeeter.
The seventh chime sounded and those goblins still serving customers finished their transactions and closed the teller windows in a single motion, a mass sliding of shutting doors.
On the eight chime, the many doors to the vaults shut and more goblins in uniform appeared seemingly from no where, stepping into the crowd and quietly enforcing the declaration that Gringotts was closing for the day. Dumbledore was respectfully urged to move faster while Rita was all but pushed kicking and screaming with the rest of the crowd. A crowd that did not want to leave now that they could see the human that the goblins were fussing over.
The ninth chime sounded and the windows began to shut themselves while Jereth walked toward the far end of the hall, a cane for support. The mortals could see him now and he would not allow himself to be carried. He was injured and drained, but he would still be seen able to support himself. A small crowd of goblins five creatures deep separated him from the humans on either side as he pushed through the quickly dwindling crowd. He had until the clock struck thirteen.
The tenth chime sounded and only a few customers were still in the building. Dumbledore stood in the threshold of the silver doors and spoke quietly to the goblin who had been taking care of his transaction for the day. Grumbook was not forthcoming with information, though that didn't much surprise the headmaster of Hogwarts. He was rather lucky the goblin respected him enough to allow him a more casual exit and the time to ask a few questions.
The eleventh chime accompanied the closing of the bronze doors. All goblins safely inside as they pulled the massive plates shut. Dumbledore watched with no little awe as the locks spun into place once the two halves were touching. The securities placed upon them as strong as any found on the vaults below ground.
The twelfth chime sounded and Albus blinked in surprise that he could still hear it as clear as he had when he was inside. A crowd that spilled down the nearby streets for blocks all watched the white building in unnatural silence. Everyone wanted to know why the bank was closed, why a clock was sounding twelve in the middle of the fourth hour of the afternoon.
The clock rang Thirteen.
The London branch of Gringotts disappeared from Diagon Alley.
::: :::
Original Story Located Here(remove spaces): http ://www. fanfiction. net/s/3661318/1/Gringott