Harry traveled down the path that the fourth years had gone down. He had trailed behind them, hoping that by not being in contact with any of the arrogant wizards he might not be forced to kill one, or worse yet, have another instance of taint and shadow forced upon his gods and their artifacts. He had, thankfully, been able to repair his pants quite easily, the steel thread that was woven through them responding to him nicely. He would have been quite irritated had his arrival to Hogwarts been marred by such a thing. Despite the serious nature of his coming here, it would do to at least try and present the Goblins as well dressed if nothing else.

The trail itself, wound down from the Hogwarts train, which he was sad to leave. Luckily, his ritual had managed to undo the damage caused by whatever mad wizard had entertained the absurd notion of trying to gift someone a part of a whole. Harry was glad that the two twins had not twisted the ritual to a travesty. He would have never forgiven himself if the beauty of that train had been besmirched. And, he supposed, he had, at least, some sort of contact with students here, and he hadn't ended with anyone dead, so he could consider that a sort of success.

It really had been a great train; its gears and cogs and bars all moving at a speed that most could never catch. He had been greatly impressed by its smoothness, only bumping and buckling due to its own whims, not the whims of the tracks it traveled on. The remaining ride had done quite a bit to calm his nerves and rest his body. It had also given him the time needed to find a spare Os and reattach it to the under skin of his thigh. He had the barest whisper that the train was happy with its new toy, and while it might be centuries before it could incorporate it into its structure and purpose, he figured it a fitting gift for the travel, though it would not have been his first choice. Os were exceedingly hard to come by for him, and he did not possess the uncaring skin and nerves of a full Goblin, loathe though he was to admit that.

Still, as he took one last look at the train and continued his trek, he was looking forward to what other manner of transportation he would be taking to reach the great gates of Hogwarts. He could see it clearly in the night, the great fires of its towers reaching far into the night, and he could also feel its power, even from here. The earth around it trembled with its touch, the undulations slow and careful, but still pleasurable to the surrounding area. He did not know the full story of how it was that Hogwarts had came to be, but he strongly suspected that Goblins had been part of it. The wizards he knew of now were not ones to delve so deeply into the earth, content with their wooden sticks and magical cores. Wisps and puffs.

The castle was magnificent in every way. It shined with magic, in that way that was felt more than seen. Its presence covered the entire area in a deep glow of warmth, and he could feel it all. The buttresses and towers of the castle all lead the eye upwards, sending your vision to the skies, that in the evening twilight were dotted with stars. And yet there was a deepness too, the walls were thick and reinforced, and the great doors looked like they could swallow even the greatest of guests. It lent itself to a feeling of earthly protection and skyward ambition, and it connected those two thoughts through its lines and magic, all of it skillfully constructed into a building that would probably outlast even the magic of the world itself. Harry lost more than a few moments, gobsmacked at the towering structure.

But such thoughts were blown from his mind as he came to the edge of the trail. It had wound down from the large platform that they had disembarked from the train onto. With only a single light, that somehow provided enough illumination, he had watched hundreds of kids make their way down. They had dipped down a trial only to rise again, meeting their way to the edge of the woods that grew thick and proud, and who, it seemed, pressed in on all sides, wanting to reclaim the ground that they had been hewed from. Coming up the hill, Harry had been struck by the incredible carriages, which had stolen his breath, but it was the Horses of Ash that had stolen his thoughts.

They were beautiful. Their skin shone with a coal blackness, ash from the hottest fires, with the embers still seeming to burn with a blue flame that peeked out sparingly from behind the blackness of their tough skin. Their wings were nearly impossible to see, their thin blackness consumed nearly in entirety by the night that they were splayed out against. Most notable though were their mouths, that opened and closed slightly, giving a bare glimpse of the void that existed beneath their teeth. It was a night with no stars, and the breath that exhaled from that formless well was pure fire, a bright white flame that disappated immediately. Born of Essum they were.

It only took a moment for Harry to get his thoughts back in order and approach the beasts. Apparently a carriage had been held for him because there was only one of them. He did hope that later he might be able to see the whole group of them, but for right now he settled on simple brushing past close to the Horse of Ash while getting into the carriage. Once inside he noticed three other students who all seemed quite nervous about his presence. He paid them no mind, and they remained quiet as he spent the rest of the trip scrambling around the cabin, inspecting the nuts and bolts of the carriage, as well as the intricate designs that had been carved on nearly every revealed surface.

By the time that they had nearly gotten to Hogwarts itself, one of the boys in the carriage seemed likely to speak, only to stop suddenly as a knife, a small pointed one, leapt into Harry's hand as he removed some built up dust or some such thing from a particularly wonderful carving on the carriage door's frame. It remained a silent ride after that, that is until the three Hogwarts students made a mad dash for the door to get outside once they had landed.

Once again, Harry let them go on ahead before he stepped out of the carriage, giving one last look at the Horse of Ash before continuing on his way to the great fortress that rose before him. He wondered if maybe his actions in the carriage had been rash, but he was thrice-fallen if he wasn't going to minutely examine the carriage that yoked a Horse of Ash. A trail of students winded in front of him, all of them dressed in their robes, with their sticks poking out of pockets or holsters, he counted them in the starlight, seeing their weapons so easily put on display was a bit shocking. He had figured once they had gotten out of their muggle clothing they would have hidden their power better, but it was as it always was, wizards were arrogant.

He stepped forward, passing through the gates of Hogwarts, their steel and silver frame gleaming from the combination of torches and moonlight that fell across them, he could only but spare it a glance, before the students ahead of him surged forward, and he sped to follow. It would not look well for him to become lost and then found at the whim of one of these humans. Before he made it to the proper doors into Hogwarts though, he crouched down, lifting a bit of dirt and sod into his hand, compressing it with his fist, and whispering into it, naming himself and his Artisan, his Master, and his Blood. It was no trouble to catch up again, staying a fair distance back, making sure that those around would know that there was a distance he had created. And if one had looked, they might have seen, as he made his way into the actual stone of Hogwarts him sucking a bit of dirt from his right hand, the words he had put into it already disappearing on the wind and ground.

In short order, Harry and the students were in the Great Hearth, however, unlike the other students, Harry did not sit down at a table of corresponding colors. He, instead, positioned himself at the entrance, dead center and ready. From his left he saw the human witch known as Minerva McGonagall approach him. He let her do so, she would have been made aware of the agreements decided upon between his Artisan and Dumbledore.

"Mr. Marfoir" McGonagall quietly intoned, "I am Professor McGonagall, please allow me to welcome you to Hogwarts." The young man that stared back at her was far too like those students she had loved and taught all those years ago. His eyes, when they had snapped to her had almost stopped her in her tracks, the same green as Lily but with a fire behind them that she had only seen on James' face when he had been in his later years, defending his friends. Or maybe that was just wishful thinking on her part, to project such fierce protective determination unto this Goblin raised boy. She had no idea what his upbringing had been like. She had tried to delve further into Goblin studies, but even the most detailed accounts of them seemed to have no true idea why it was that they responded the way they did. Instead of there being books on how and why it was that Goblins operated, there were literal tomes that dealt with how dangerous they were. Paragraphs and essays about how interaction with Goblins, except at the great bank Gringotts, was a foolhardy measure and that those who did did so at a degree of danger greater than even picking a fight with a dragon.

It had been and was distressing to McGonagall. She had been delving into the studies of Transfiguration for most of her adult life, and she knew that if her knowledge of Transfiguration had been at the level of Goblin knowledge she would have been crippled in her teaching ability. So, she had tried to find a teacher of Goblin History and Culture, assuming it would, at least, be somewhat better than Muggle studies. She had been shocked and displeased to find out that there was no such position at any school she had looked into. It was, apparently, an unstudied field, which was a bit terrifying, especially considering Goblins ran the most prestigious and powerful bank in Western Europe. She had spent the last month trying to find out more information, but the best she had come up with was the hastily copied pages of an incomplete diary, that, at most, simply confirmed that Goblins were indeed dangerous and very different than wizards and witches.

So it was with a bit of trepidation that McGonagall introduced herself to Harry-Mr Marfoir, Dumbledore had been quite firm in his insistence that they not call him by that name, though it pained her to do so. He might have been willing to go along as Harry for the sake of convenience among students who would know him as such, but he was also here as a sort of ambassador, and so it would be his Goblin name that she, as a representative of Hogwarts, would need to use. Maybe if he didn't look so much like Lily and James, but no, he did, and she wouldn't let the past stop her from completing her duties in the present.

Harry had caught something in the eyes of the Professor before she had continued, "If you would please follow me, Headmaster Dumbledore would like to introduce you to the school." And she let her arm point the way.

For a second Harry was concerned that Dumbledore knew more than he should, but that would be impossible. There was no one who should have such information, for the introductions of Goblins were not an easy revealed secret. So he allowed himself to be led to the middle of the floor, the students on all sides of him didn't seem to have a very good idea of what was going on. And so it was with a bit of a smirk on his face that Harry went to the middle of the Great Hearth of Hogwarts, as Dumbledore, Headmaster, stood up to address those in attendance.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Hermoine Jean Granger had been excited to be back at Hogwarts. It was a place where, finally, her excelling had been acknowledged and put to good use. Sure, her first two years had been rough. Like those in her Muggle schools, the students had been quite taken aback by a student who loved to study, learn, and harness the resources available. Luckily, the majority of those students did not reside in Ravenclaw, the wonderful and brilliant house she had been sorted into upon arrival as a First Year.

It had also helped that here, knowledge was directly converted into power. In the Muggle world, just because you knew chemistry didn't mean you could then apply that knowledge to those who bullied you, not unless you were going to douse them in acid or set them on fire or blow them up or something. And while she had strongly considered it several times in her early years of education, she figured that it would all end in tears, or worse, her library card being revoked. But here, in the wizarding world, learning gave you very real and very scary advantages over those who didn't. Hermoine had first really realized this from an unlikely source. During her first year, she had become tentative friends with one Ron Weasley, and although it didn't really work very well, she did get to learn about his brothers.

Everyone knew about the Weasley Twins, about their pranks, misdirections, and tricks, but what the majority of those people did not know was that the twins also excelled in their classes. They were loud and boisterous to such a degree that no one would ever realize that they turned in every single piece of homework, and the main reason that they hadn't been expelled was primarily due to the fact that many of their tricks as well as their work in the classroom showed them to be capable of huge feats of off brand brilliance that left teachers shaking their heads in bewilderment.

And it had been during her first year, when Hermoine, by chance, had come across the two of them, in an abandoned bathroom (where Hermoine would sometimes go to vent and maybe cry but just a bit and only because of allergies!). They were working on some sort of potion, and Hermoine, already distressed, had, without quite knowing it, quietly remarked that if they added that whole Salamander skin they were going to set themselves on fire.

The twins had instantly turned to her, having not noticed her coming in, had turned to each other, and then turned back to her, two similar smiles spreading across their faces in a eerie way. One of them, Hermoine believed it was George, had cut the salamander skin into smaller pieces before adding each one in at a time, gauging the reaction, while Fred had popped up in front of her, shaking her hand and talking about how she was a beautiful, smart, and powerful witch. She had nearly turned the color of the brothers' hair.

She had stammered a reply, and to this day she had no idea what she had said, but Fred had taken it in stride, using her fluster and bluster to start asking questions and as her "social centers" had shut down and flashed red lights, her "answering questions" center still had power, it had many backup generators, and so she had answered the questions, apparently to such satisfaction that the two twins had let her in on a little secret, which turned out to have huge consequences for her.

Quite simply it was: If you can out think a wizard you can out hit a wizard. Just that. But what it meant was Power in this world was not in the fist, the words, or the body, it was in the wand, and if you were smart you could steamroll your way into whatever and wherever. And as Hermoine had quietly mulled that over, the twins had finished making their potion, thanked her, changed her hair to an illustrious gold, and left. And Hermoine had walked out of that bathroom, distress forgotten, and continued to think about that secret.

Over the next few weeks Hermoine got to see first hand what the twins had meant. Before she had just been aware of the pranks and tricks, knowing they caused frustration and problems for those they targeted, but now she was really looking at them, and she was finding them to be utterly amazing. They were almost never caught, even though everyone knew who had done it, there was just simply little to no proof. And they were combining disciples in electrifying ways, some simple runes to boost a sticking charm so that it sucked things to a wall and got people stuck, and they were adding layers to it to confuse, the sucking charm had magical glue on it, so those who investigated, at first, thought it was the glue doing it, and it wasn't until they had dissipated the glue and stepped forward to further inspect the site which ended with them also being sucked and stuck to the wall that they realized the glue had been a red herring.

Bullies didn't bother the twins, and those who did found themselves going up against a force they could barely comprehend, let alone really bother. It was all just a challenge to the twins, as they used their devastating minds to confound and confuse bullies, teachers, people they didn't like, and people they did like.

And it wasn't even that they were just smarter than everyone. It was that they were combining areas and studies in such mind-boggling ways that it was nearly alien to everyone who encountered it. She had understood more of it, simply because of her muggle background, but they were truly terrifying in the ways they would fuse two completely different ideas and create a prank that would leave everyone baffled.

And so Hermoine adopted their ways. Not the pranking, no, she would shiver at the simple notion of pranking a teacher, but she had no trouble seeing the smirks and mumbled insults of her classmates as a challenge. She plunged headfirst into making herself simply so good and powerful that it was a horrible idea to even speak ill of her. She helped others, gave advice, and was kind, but she did all of it behind an untouchable line of hard work and power. She, of course, had had people who challenged her, but with a nearly exhaustive list of spells, and the guiding touch of the Weasley twins, who were maybe not friends but valued colleagues, she had been more than prepared to deal with those who had tried to tear her back down.

And it had been difficult and hard and made her so weary sometimes that she had spent entire summers convincing herself that she was a human being, not the type of thing to be looked down upon and scraped off a Slytherin's shoe. She had adopted a laser like focus on the practical side, and used her muggle background to fill in any gaps. It had taken two years for it to pay off, but it had.

And now, in her Fourth Year, Hermoine really felt like she was where she was supposed to be. But her inner satisfaction at returning to the school had been dealt quite a blow as she had seen the Twins coming up from the carriages towards the Great Hearth. They both seemed in a state of semi-shock mixed with a seriousness she had only seen glimpses of, usually because of family matters. They also had a slight trail of blood coming from their arms, where it looked almost like something had scratched them. So Hermoine rushed towards them, a hundred questions on her tongue, but really only one concern: were they okay?

By the time Hermoine actually got close enough to them to talk she had calmed down a bit. And so rather than demanding to know what had happened and forcefully healing them, she settled for walking side by side with them and giving them a questioning look that said she had all the time in the world to make them talk about this.

The twins, smart, young men that they were, had a good idea of just how difficult it was to

dislodge Hermoine from helping them. She was a good friend like that. And so they filled her in, relating, as well as they could, the harrowing events that had happened on the second to last compartment on the train as they entered the Great Hearth of Hogwarts.

So now Hermoine sat, at rigid attention as the young man that the twins had described took position in the middle of the Great Hearth, all attention upon him as Headmaster Dumbledore stood.

He made a striking figure in the middle of all the color. No one was wearing black the way he was. Sure, some of the students and even teachers here had black robes on, but they had large splashes of their house colors on them. Her own robes sparkled with the bronze and blue of Ravenclaw. Even the Slytherin, who were the most likely to indulge in the darker color pallets, were lavish in their silver and green, to say nothing of the incredibly loud and boisterous gold and red of Gryffindor. Heck, even Snape had large amounts of color on him, although some of it seemed like it was from faulty or messy potions rather than fashion, but still, in the middle of a whirlwind of warmth and color stood a young man that was wreathed in a blacker than night suit, with a threading of intricate patterns running down it, drawing the eyes to his boots where the threading pooled. It was the only color on him, and while it may have been silver it surely seemed harder than silver, much more like steel and the harsh poundings of a forge than the gentleness of jewelry. All of that was clear to the eyes despite the messy way it was being worn, with the shirt untucked, jacket sleeves rolled up, and the look of a hooligan. And suddenly the Headmaster was speaking, and her attention was wrenched from the mysterious young man that had hurt the twins to her Headmaster.

"I want everyone to welcome Mr. Kuro Marfoir, known to some as Harry Potter, to the halls and hearths of Hogwarts. He is a student of the fabled Three Schools of Goblins, and he shall be staying here as one of the applicants to the Triwizard Tournament as well as enjoying the cirriculum that Hogwarts has to offer."

Hermoine's head whipped around once more to fix her attention on young man (a goblin?), who was now smirking in the middle of the Great Hearth. Headmaster Dumbledore was now going on to describe exactly what the Triwizard tournament was, but Hermoine had heard the rumors, and in true Hermoine fashion, done copious amounts of research on the subject. It was just the normal hilariously dangerous school competition, each school getting a champion, and whomever won would get eternal glory and whatnot. But it had always been three schools, Beauxbatons, Durmstrangs, and Hogwarts. Never had there been a fourth school, and certainly never had there been a Goblin school, as far as Hermoine was aware.

How had she missed this? There were Goblin Schools? She knew about Beauxbatons and Durmstrange, and had heard about the modern Salem School that resided in America, and a few others, but she had never though that there were schools for other species! What about House Elves, Centuars, Giants, Dragons, there were other species and most of them contained, at least, a certain amount of intelligence. They lived and breathed and saw the world thorugh different eyes, and she had completely ignored them. Yes, she had done so in an attempt to make sure she didn't dissolve into a quivering mass of tears and sadness at the end of the day, everyday, but still, it should have at least been on her radar! It was criminal of her, and who knew what kind of knowledge could be extracted from a species that had different biology and maybe even their eyes worked differently, oh god, what if some of them could actually see magic? Or had ultraviolet vision? Did Lumos work for them the same way it did for her? DID THEY EVEN USE WANDS?

And so, while the first Goblin child to ever attend Hogwarts made his way to the middle of the floor, Hermione Jean Granger had a panic attack about the ever growing amount of knowledge she had ignored. Few, if any, of her Ravenclaw house mates paid any attention to her shaking. It had become fairly common.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Harry stood in the middle of the Great Hearth as the students around him erupted into whispers, words, and yelling. However, his attention remained focused on Headmaster Dumbledore, who continued to speak, telling the details of the Triwizard Tournament. Eventually the details of what he was talking about was interesting enough to pull the students back to their attentive, quiet selves. Soon everyone was listening to Dumbledore as he explained the rules of the tournament. There was to be a great chalice that they would enter their names into and only students of the appropriate age would be allowed to do so. At the end of September the chalice would be put on display, allowing those who consider themselves worthy to enter their names. That will also be the day that the two other schools competing, Beauxbatons of France and Durmstrang of the North will be arriving.

Finally, Dumbledore, once again, turned his attention to Harry. "Now, Mr. Marfoir, if you would like to take a seat somewhere, you will find Hogwarts to be very accommodating." At this a wide grin spread across Harry's face. The Headmaster had not specified where to sit, and he had, as well, implied that Hogwarts would accommodate his needs. Perfect. There was a certain amount of play he needed to take up with the Headmaster. He was not just a student, but a combatant in the TriWizard Cup, which at this point should probably be called the QuadBeingsofMagicalPower Cup (though that did not roll off the tongue very well), and an ambassador from the Goblins themselves. Appearances needed to be maintained.

Still grinning, Harry knelt on the surprisingly warm stones of Hogwart's Great Hearth. There was a bit of gasp around those close enough as a knife appeared in his hand, especially from the twins who recognized it. Then with two quick movements his jacket was undone and underneath his skin, clouded with ash and embers was parted with two cuts from his knife. From below the skin of his own chest seven small stones were removed, his blood not dripping from them but somehow sticking to the rocks. Those in the Great Hearth that knew any sight sharpening spells and had the presence of mind to use them did so. Harry kept his smile on, some blood dripping from his chest onto the floor that he kneeling upon. That was unimportant though, his blood still clung to the pieces of metal, as it should, and he gently lowered them to the floor, arraying them as a small triangle that pointed upwards with two a couple of inches away on either side and two spaced evenly apart but a couple of inches below the triangle. With everything in place, Harry let his smile leave his face and bent down even further, his face nearly touching the stones of Hogwarts. "Seven aspects I bring to you, to form or fashion in whatever way you see fit. Let none say that the Goblins do not know the ways of gifts or sentience, let none say that we do not know the old ones nor the old numbers, and let none say that we also fall into the isolation and arrogance of wizards. Enjoy these small tokens of fire and ash from the Goblins." And with that Harry pressed his hand to his chest, the blood on it smearing his fingers, which he then brought down to delicately trace a circle around the metal he had placed. The circle completed, the stones suddenly began to sink into the stones themselves, his blood on them boiling and a cloud of vapor rising to the ceiling.

Gracefully, Harry rose up as the bits of metal sunk away from view, calmly buttoning up his jacket once again, hiding his bleeding chest, he faced Dumbledore once again. "A gift, as expected and now received. Thank you for your hospitality." And with that, Harry once again directed his attention to the stones of Hogwarts saying, as if it was absolutely normal, "Would you, perhaps, if it is not too much trouble, allowing me the use of a seat and table upon which to eat?" And just like the seven stones that had sunk into the stone but in reverse an elaborate table and chair were pushed out of the stones, to the right of where the Slytherin table was, apart from them, but keeping with the placement and lines of the tables. It was a beautiful piece of stonework, more so than the wooden tables and chairs that the students or teachers sat at. And as it was raised, from no one knew where, Harry sat down at the intricate table and chair, and waited for the food to arrive.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

In his office, Albus Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall sat. Neither of them were feeling very cheery, McGonagall, unusually, was slumped into her chair, letting it provide support rather than relying on her impressive backbone. Both of them had been overwhelmed with the presentation of Harry Potter, who had been renamed under Goblin tutelage and law Kuro Marfoir. His message had been clear and concise, "I am a Goblin. I am here as one of them. I am here for my own reasons."

Dumbledore had hoped that he could get Harry to, at least, sit with his fellow humans, maybe start to converse with those he felt so strongly would help the young man, but it seemed that his plans had been foreseen and countered decisively. He had seemed more than a bit inhuman, whispering to the stones of Hogwarts, blood running down his, surprisingly, ash and ember covered chest. And Dumbledore had felt the reaction of the students, their preconceived notions of Goblins only heightened by the display of feral power and controlled image.

McGonagall, however, was oscillating between the unbearable curiosity of a Transfiguration Professor (Hogwarts could perform transfiguration? Non-sentient Transfiguration? Ritual summoning? Those metal pieces? Blood magic?) and the weariness of now knowing that Harry Potter, son of James and Lily, was gone, replaced by a person or Goblin that had shattered her hopes for being able to repay those two darlings who had given their lives for wizarding-kind.

Both powerful magicians though, eventually came to the same question: How could they convince this new Harry Potter, this Kuro Marfoir, to care enough about wizards, a people who did not and would not try to understand Goblins, to fight Voldermort?

A/N#2

The amount of corrections here were pretty small, beause I managed to not fuck this up very much when I wrote it. The biggest stuff is just some flavor things. A bit more explaining, and a bit more of Hermione freaking out, something I love.

Yep yep

A/N

Yo guys and gals, so here is a bit of ranty rant.

Almost every HP fan fic that i've read that has HP not showing up for a long time, always has hermoine and everyone else just being kind of sad and friends but really not having much impact on the school. That makes no sense to me, especially with Hermoine. Guys, this lady got basilik'd went back to school, helped commit felonies, in the third book, dated Victor Krum in the fourth book, and pretty much spent the 5th, 6th, and 7th books just being a badass (if you remember she got fucking tortured by Bellatrix and then KEPT ON FIGHTING). This girl, if given half a chance, bounces back twice as strong. She has her own problems now, she is not quite the incredibly kind, caring Hermoine we all know, but geez guys, if Harry doesn't show up its not like all his friends just fall into a depressing pit of being shitty at everything. Anyway, hope you enjoy this.

love and hugs or some such shit,

ian