Disclaimer: I've got an old copy of 'Chamber of Secrets' and a home-made attempt at an imitation Sonic Screwdriver, they don't count. I don't own Harry Potter (J.K. Rowling), or Doctor Who (R.T.D., Moffat and whoever else does).

"Scarred Drums"
By J.T. Magnus, 'Turbo'

He walked down the Alley with a black travelling cloak drapped over his shoulders, shunning the pointed hat so many wore simply because they always had, hiding his features under a simple fedora. For all their differences over so many years, The Doctor and he still had some things in common from the days of the Academy, including the opinion that tradition stifled innovation.

'If I thought quills, owls and the like were bad when all I knew were phones and the telly, after what I know now... I'm almost insulted, actually. No wonder so many institutions die', Harry considered, 'So locked by tradition that they can't adapt to change, refuse to evolve... evolve or die, I say."

A soft chuckle that went unheard preceded the whispered, "For some of you, the choice I've already made."

Over the year since he had arrived in the past, he had slowly began preparing his plans, listing assets and liabilities; those people he could trust, those he could use and perhaps most importantly, those he would destroy. To keep one of the top names on that final list unwarned, his acceptance letter addressed to the location they expected, he had simply hypnotised the fools that shared his human blood into abandoning the basement to his purposes, but as soon as possible he intended to move his base of operations to a place that would not only provide a secure headquarters for himself but also deny a resource to his enemies - the caretaker would have to be dealt with when that time came, for the Master had no intention this time of suffering traitors to live. The day before, that letter had finally arrived telling him that Hogwarts would send a representative to meet him the next day. Knowing who would be sent, he had seen no reason to remain in Surrey and wait, instead he had set off to gather what he needed, both physical objects and valuable information, from London. So, here he now was, in the middle of Diagon Alley, the wolf among the sheep.

"Today," Harry muttered to himself, looking around the Alley from under the brim of his hat, unnoticed by wizards and witches surrounding him, "We chart a course for all our destinies. First, the Goblins... then supplies. Books, tools, loyal Hedwig... and a stick. How quaint. And I thought the obsession The Doctor had with sonic was annoying. Fortunately, it's only for appearance's sake, my own devices will do for my own purposes. But enough, to work."

As his footsteps led him towards Gringott's and destiny, Harry began humming a familiar four-beat tune...

"Do you have your key?"

"No, which is one of the reasons I need to speak to someone privately - I believe access to my vaults is in possession of someone it should not be and despite the understanding I have of Goblin honor, this room is filled with humans at the moment who might overhear something they shouldn't."

"Your name, young wizard?"

Harry held out his hand, getting a strange look from the Goblin teller, "Blood test to confirm I am who I claim."

"And that would be?" The teller asked, drawing a small knife used for blood identification purposes.

With his free hand, Harry raised the brim of his fedora so that the infamous scar could be seen, "Harry Potter."

"We've had such claims before," the goblin snarled, "Including faked scars."

Harry remained calm with his hand held out, "And how many of them were openly willing to prove it?"

Like a flash, the goblin lashed out with the knife, drawing blood and watching as it was absorbed by the metal and the blade began to glow. For his part, Harry stood there unaffected, feeling the energy flowing to his hand and healing the wound.

"Well, Mister Potter, this is interesting."

"Innit," Harry replied without batting an eye.

"You might be interested to know that Director Ragnarok has left instructions that you be brought to him the first time you enter our bank unaccompanied by other humans."

"I am unsurprised," Harry answered, slipping his hands into the pockets of his pants, "I expect we have a great deal to discuss and it would be an insult to keep the Warlord waiting any longer, would you escort me to him please?"

It was only after he had left Harry in the company of the guards outside Ragnarok's office that the teller realized that the young wizard had referred to their leader not as the human 'Director', but the proper Goblin title of 'Warlord'.

'Interesting', the teller thought.

Harry and Ragnarok faced each other across the Goblin Warlord's desk, neither chosing to be the first to sit down and put themselves in a disadvantagous position.

"Have a seat, young wizard," Ragnarok gestured towards one of the plush wing-backs across from him.

"After you, Warlord," Harry retorted, sweeping his hat from his head and tucking it under an arm, more familiar this time with the warlike customs of not just Goblins but a hundred other species across the galaxy.

"You do not trust me?"

"Respectfully," Harry answered, "I do not trust anyone until they have proven themselves to me. Goblin honor may be unimpeachable, but Brutus was an honorable man of Rome, if I recall."

Ragnarok's lips pulled back in a threatening expression that the reborn Master recognized as a Goblin smile, the baring of teeth symbolic of the baring of the truth if he recalled correctly, a gesture he returned as both of them sat at the same time.

"Despite your age, you've proven yourself far wiser than many humans."

"It's not the years," Harry commented, a certain year automatically coming to mind, "But how much you fit into them."

"Very true..." Ragnarok paused, deciding now was the time, "My lord."

Harry smiled coldly, "I'm afraid I don't understand what you mean by that, Warlord."

"Goblins are not fools. Your blood may be that of Harry Potter," Ragnarok leaned forwards, baring his teeth in a warning, "But it flows through two hearts, Time Lord."

Harry's hand slowly began to move towards the latest model of his Laser Screwdriver, "Where did you hear that? Keep it mind that your answer decides your fate, Goblin."

"Almost fifty years ago, from you ten years from now," Ragnarok answered, sitting back, "On the day I ascended to lordship over the Goblins, you came to me and told me that one day in the future you would come to the Goblins as an ally seeking to repay the actions of Wizards to both you and us and I would have until that day to decide where the Goblin Nation stood."

"Did I?" Harry asked with an inclination of his head as his hand drifted away from his Laser Screwdriver, "Then it would be safe to think you know more of the facts than most, wouldn't it?"

Ragnarok slowly nodded, no longer banker-to-client but now one conspirator-to-another, "The truth of Dumbledore's association with Grindlewald, his part in Riddle's rise, the plans for shaping the magical world to his ideal... his part in the deaths of your human parents and the imprisonments of yourself and your Godfather - which, I feel bound to add, Gringott's Bank and the Goblin Nation do not recognize."

Harry paused, deciding where he wanted to start, "Access to my vaults. Dumbledore has a key?"

"Stolen," Ragnarok informed him, "Taken from the personal effects of Sirius Black upon his unlawful imprisonment. Do you wish us to reclaim it?"

Harry thought for a moment, "No, no, let him keep it... but keep a record of all withdraws made by Dumbledore himself, any member of Hogwarts' staff, or the Pureblood family Weasley so that when the time is right reclaimations can be made. And let it be understood that any arrangement made under his self-proclaimed 'authority' have no standing... and I will personally disembowel anyone who attempts to enforce them. Now, the guardianship of my aunt and uncle?"

"Illegal," came the response, unphased and in fact impressed by the Time Lord's Goblin-like attitude, "Even if your godfather's arrest had been lawful, your godmother Alice Longbottom had not been incapacitated at the time of your parents' deaths, guardianship would have fallen first to her and then to Lady Augusta Longbottom along with that of Neville Longbottom. The problem comes in that Albus Dumbledore's agenda recognizes no authority other than his own, which would place you illegally with the Muggle Dursley family..."

"I dislike that term," Harry interjected, "Could we use Mundane in its place?"

Ragnarok nodded, "...Illegally with the Mundane family Dursley. The guardianship of Augusta Longbottom in lieu of Frank and Alice Longbottom is being ignored by that same Dumbledore... if the Ministry moves against him as..."

"As I told you," Harry said, ignoring the confusing tenses, confusing only to those who experience time only in a linear fashion.

"Yes... it depends on where Lady Longbottom stands. If she sides with Dumbledore while you are still considered a minor by the humans' laws they might attempt to place you under the 'care' of a Ministry-aligned family... if not, without Dumbledore's control of the Wizengamot they will likely recognize her guardianship."

"And the Goblin Nation, whose guardianship does it recognize?"

Ragnarok spun his chair around and ran a finger along the blade of a sword displayed on his credenza, recognizing by feel every nick and gouge the blade had earned in battle, "By blood you are the only Heir of House Potter, by conquest the Heir of House Gaunt - and so the recognized Heir of Slytherin - and as the godson of the Heir of House Black you are the Heir Apparent of that House... In Goblin eyes, you need no guardian."

Harry nodded in recognition of that, despite the fact that Ragnarok couldn't see it, "And Riddle's survival?"

"Disgusting and evil things," Ragnarok turned back around to face the Time Lord, "I'll take great pleasure in seeing them destroyed, starting with the one they thought to hide on Goblin land."

"Dumbledore believes there is one in my scar," Harry remarked, raising a fist to his mouth.

"And is there?"

Harry smiled, "Not anymore. There is only enough room in my mind and soul for me and... well, me, actually. Let's see... Dumbledore is a Dark Lord in disguise, the Ministry would be crooks if they weren't changing the laws to suit themselves, Riddle is up himself and afraid to die... and the Goblin Nation will ally itself with me, is there anything else? No? Yes, actually, I do need to visit my vault, withdraw the funds for my first trip into the lion's den, don't I?"

Ragnarok stood up as Harry did, "Friend and Ally, allow me to accompany you myself."