Globins were a mystery to wizards. Not many knew anything of their habits beyond the obvious, such as their greed, love of gold, and their combat prowess. Most wizards thought they were nothing more than an ultraviolent race that wanted nothing more than to wage war and slaughter the innocent, but goblins were so much more than that (at least most were).
Goblin society was a caste system in which the ruling class was made up of the bankers, while the lower class goblins were forced to do the more menial tasks. The exceptions to this rule however were the dragon tamers who worked to train the dreaded dragons that guarded the caverns and vaults of Gringotts, and the shamans (or sages as the goblins liked to refer to them as) who delved deeply into the spiritual side of magic.
Rugem was a member of the lower cast of goblins, and her job was to work in one of the mail rooms. That entailed her collecting and reading letters for eight or even twelve hours a day, so it was a lucky occurrence that the child appeared while she was returning from her task in the mailroom.
She had heard stories of human children, but she had never truly had the chance to see one up close. The child was larger than a goblin of the same age by almost a full ten pounds, and quite a few inches. He even had hair which never grew in male goblins, and tended to start coming in when female goblins reached five years.
She stared at the child for a few moments longer before snapping her fingers. Moments later the owl that had delivered the letter that had allowed her to get the child flew into the cave. It was her personal owl, and as such it came whenever she had need of it, or whenever she wanted it to.
The owl regarded her for a moment before sticking its leg out. She smiled at the bird before producing a letter and securing it to the bird's leg. The owl flew off as soon as the letter was secure.
She turned back to the boy. He was an odd sight for her, but she could not help but think that he was cute. Most other races thought goblins were adverse to all things cute, but that was not the case. They simply tried to put up a tough front at all times, and having anyone realize that they had the same feelings for cute things as the other races did would only tarnish their reputation.
Rugem mused that the boy would never know of her thoughts of him. He would probably only see her as an oppressor, but that was fine with her if he did. All it would mean is that she tried to change his outlook, but things did not go as she had planned.
She was cut from her musings when he made a yawn. She looked on curiously as Ron opened his eyes. The blue orbs held a knowledge that she had not been expecting of a babe, but she should have known that wizard children matured quite a bit faster than goblin children.
The boy looked at her for a moment before he began to bawl. His cries reverberated from the walls of her cave, and she hastily waved her hand over the boy. Abruptly the crying was silenced, but the child did not stop the act, there was simply no sound coming from him.
Rugem had known that human babes were prone to fits of crying and hollering, but she had not expected that. She was lucky that she had gotten the silencing charm off in time, or his cries would have surely been heard by the other goblins that lived in caves close to her own, and that would have led to some questions that she would have rather not dealt with.
She did not know how to deal with a crying child (whether goblin or human), so she followed her instincts. She tentatively reached out and picked the boy up. He wiggled a bit in her arms, but her grip was soft but firm.
She adjusted him a bit so that he was cradled in her arms. She took a seat in one of the black chairs that dotted her cave. The boy seemed to calm. He had stopped crying, so Rugem lifted the silencing charm.
As she cradled him she could not help but feel something. She had never had children before (she was far too young by goblin standards), and because of this she could not tell that it was maternal instinct within her. The child was vulnerable, and she could protect it. Something about that just warmed her in ways that she had not known were possible.
As the boy relaxed into her she heard a light popping sound. When she looked up she was greeted by the sight of a house elf. She grinned. The things were expensive, but she could not take care of the boy on her own, and the house elf had been the easiest solution.
The elf looked at her for a moment before bowing. "I is Tiggy master." Its English was imperfect but that was to be expected of a house elf.
Rugem personally found the creatures called house elves to be repulsive. They were in her eyes a corruption of magic in the highest degree. Elves had once been majestic creatures, but their dealings with humans had been their undoing. They were reduced to nothing more than a servant race that lived to serve, and died if that chance was denied them, however despite their disgracefulness they were valuable assets.
"Tiggy please get me a bottle for Ronald." The elf nodded and snapped her fingers, and a bottle appeared in front of the goblin. Rugem took the bottle, and guided to Ron's lips.
The babe was not hesitant. He took to sucking as though he had been starved, and Rugem could tell that if left unchecked he could be a glutton (if the fact that he had finished his bottle in less than two minutes was any indication). That would not do, but Rugem was not concerned about it at that very moment. She had time to ensure he was raised properly.
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When Hermione had gone to her backyard to attempt the magic of Elder Scrolls for the first time she had gone without a game plan, and had gotten nowhere. She had not known what she wanted or how she wanted to accomplish it, and she had failed because of that.
The second time however she had decided to start just as the characters that she created started. She tried to use the flames spell to conjure a small orb of fire into her palm. In the beginning nothing happened, but Hermione just thought that she was not concentrating hard enough.
She had always been smarter than most children her age, and that intelligence had come with a maturity that none of her peers could match nor understand (though they never tried to do so), and this maturity changed the way that she thought about everything.
She normally regarded the world as an adult would. She followed the path that the authority figures around her set for her, and this meant that did everything in her power to excel where she could, leading to her excellent grades in school, and the desire to gain knowledge.
For an adult the things that Hermione did were a sign of maturity, and a sign that she was headed in the right direction, but to those her age she was nothing more than a teacher's pet who tried to wiggle her way into their good graces.
The alienation that she suffered from the other children was brutal, and relentless. She had nearly been taken from her primary school after only a month because the bullying was so horrific, but she soldiered on when she realized (after trying to befriend a girl that she had met one day at the local library) that no matter what she did she would never be able to fit in with her peers. It was a curse and a burden that she had to deal with.
When the Elder Scrolls landed in her lap a key came with it. This key unlocked something that Hermione had been suppressing for the better part of her entire life. It opened up her imagination and sense of wonder. It allowed her to experience a magic that many children took for granted.
Hermione because of her "all work and no play" approach to life had also lost something that helped adults later in life: the ability to distinguish between reality and fantasy. Although the rational side of her mind told her that there was no way that magic or anything else in the Elder Scrolls world could exist her imagination could not let it go.
Her dreams were filled with visions of a Khajiit version of herself adventuring through Tamirel. The sparks and flashes of spells followed her, and the sounds of battle reverberated through her at all times. To her the world of Nirm was only a blink away, so when her first attempt at the flames spell failed she was not deterred.
She closed her eyes and clenched her fist tighter. She searched within herself for something that would make her dreams come true (to assume the role of reality). For a while she sat there silently with her face contorted in utter concentration, and for just as long nothing happened, until she felt something.
What it was she could not say. It was like a feeling of warmth that spread through her body, but unlike a feeling she could feel a heaviness that came with it. Instinctively she latched onto the feeling (force) she felt her body tingle and hum with a power that she did not understand, but she pushed that from her mind and focused on willing the flames into existence.
She dared not open her eyes for fear that she would lose the force, but soon she felt a heat radiating from her hand, so she tentatively opened an eye, and was welcomed with the sight of flames dancing lazily in her palm. She barely held back a whoop of joy as she stared at the small conflagration.
The flames looked mesmerizing to her, and she could not help but feel awed by them. They were the result of her own doing… she had created them from nothing, and she had proven to herself that magic was in fact real.
For a moment she pondered the notion of showing her discovery to someone, but just as quickly she struck the thought from her mind. She did not know whether or not anyone else knew about the existence of magic, but she was not going to tell anyone who did not.
From her playthroughs of the Elder Scrolls games, and her dreams she knew that magic in the wrong hands was a dangerous weapon and she did not want to feel guilty about supplying people with such a powerful tool.
Suddenly she felt a wave of tiredness hit her. Instantly she willed the flames to dispersed, and they vanished from her sight. She let out a sigh of relief. She had forgotten that even low level spells taxed one's magicka reserves, and she was a novice that was casting her first spell, so it was even more taxing than it would be for someone that had been doing it for a long time.
Although she was tired a grin worked its way onto her face. She was going to learn to use the more powerful spells, and she was going to bring the world of Nirm to life in her own.
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When the early morning light reached the crevice that Harry had taken shelter in the boy immediately pulled himself from the roots of the tree. He knew that moving during the daylight would give him the best chance of surviving in the forest, but he could not afford to lose track of where the hallow tree was or he would have nowhere to come for refuge should he be unable to find a way out.
He thought of anything that would help him with remembering where he was, but to him most of the forest looked the same. He had to trudge through and just hope that he was out by nightfall.
He began walking in a random direction. He moved slowly so as to make as little noise as possible. He knew that there was little chance of a predator prowling the forest during the day, but that was not a chance that he was willing to take.
He walked for what seemed like hours, passing by several different types of trees and other foliage that he did not know anything about. The further he walked the more the situation seemed to darker. He was alone in the forest with no one looking for him; he had no food, no water, and no shelter.
The more he let himself focus on the hopeless circumstances the more they made themselves known. He had not eaten or drank anything in more than a day, so the hunger and thirst was slowing him down. Every move that he made was nearly a thousand times harder than it should have been, and he was near delirious. Every few steps he had to shake his head as he began to see doubles, and the feeling of nausea crashed over him. His legs wobbled uncontrollably, and he used all of his strength to continue forward.
When he finally felt as if he could go no more, and his body was ready to collapse he heard the rushing of water. The sound seemed to awaken something within him, and newfound energy came surging through his body.
With strength that he did not know that he possessed he pushed forward until her came to the banks of a river. The river was large with several large boulder-like rocks sitting in it, but it was slow moving, so he was in no danger of being carried away by rapids.
He fell to his knees and had to crawl to the edge of the water where he plunged his face in drinking greedily and reveling in the coolness of the crisp liquid. His thirst died, and his hunger reseeded (though he knew it would be back).
When he had drank his fill he pulled himself from the water and flopped onto his back. His stomach was full to bursting, and it ached a little, but for the moment (at least) he was content. He gazed at the sky and wondered to himself why his uncle would leave in the forest. He had never done anything that the man had not asked of him, but at every turn he was berated and degraded, and reminded of how worthless he was and how much of a failure he was bound to become.
It was sad, but the boy knew that there was something about him, that would never allow his Uncle to truly regard him as family, and that thing was within his Aunt too. He did not understand what that thing was, and he wished it was not there. If there was anything that he longed for it was family, yet instead he had been forced to grow up in a house where everyone hated him, and would like nothing more than for him to suffer.
~Hey can you move?~ The voice was soft and more like a whisper than anything else, but it made Harry jump. He looked around wildly trying to find the source of the voice, but all he could find was a snake, and to his knowledge no snake could talk, however snakes were dangerous, and the large brown snake that was easily longer than Harry was tall seemed to be even more so than ordinary ones, so Harry backed away.
The animal looked him for a moment, and then its tongue slithered out. ~Thanks~ Harry was certain that he had not heard the hiss that he thought would come from the snake, but words.
He knew that there was no one else around, so that meant that there was no one to label him crazy if he tried to talk to the bloody reptile.
~Hey were you talking to me?~ the worlds would have normally come out as English, but because he was talking to a snake his magic forced the sentence out in parseltongue.
The snake stopped its slither along the bank and turned to look at the dark haired boy. ~You can speak~
Now Harry was sure that he was not crazy, the snake had spoken to him, but how was that possible. He had never heard of a snake (or any animal) being able to talk to people, but this one was. His Uncle had always told him that magic was not real, but maybe the man was wrong, because magic seemed to be the only answer to the dilemma that Harry was experiencing.
~Of course I speak~ Harry did not understand what the snake had meant when it had asked if he spoke, because it was common for people to speak. He did not realize that the snake was referring to the fact that Harry could speak to it.
~Are you a wizard?~ Harry nearly giggled at that question. His Aunt and Uncle would have no mention of magic, but a snake seemed to believe that it existed. That was more than enough to send him into a fit of giggles, but he did not laugh because the question struck a chord with him.
Obviously the only reason that he could speak to the snake was because of magic, but he could not picture himself a wizard. Wizards were powerful people who used wands and staffs to conjure the power of magic, but he had none of that. Besides if he had been a wizard then his parents would not have died in a car crash. Wizards were too strong to be killed like that.
~No I'm not~ The snake gave him an incredulous look (which was really only the raising of nonexistent eyebrows).
~Then you must be an elf~ In truth the snake hardly believed that. He had heard stories of elves, and the boy in front of him was nothing like those creatures, but he supposed there was a chance that it could be possible, besides magic could do nearly anything that one wanted.
Harry wanted to laugh at being called an elf, but he could not help but feel that maybe that was the answer to his questions. If he were an elf then it would explain the contempt that his Aunt and Uncle held for him; they hated all things unnatural (or unnormal if such a word existed), and an elf was the very definition of such.
They treated him like he was less than human, and they made him work like their own personal slave, and as he thought about it that was the same way that elves were treated in movies and shows he had seen (and books that had been read to him). They were hated by the humans and seen as nothing more than savages who needed to be taught humanity.
Harry did not want to be a part of a humanity that treated others as nothing more than animals. Other creatures had the same rights as the humans did, yet they tried to oppress them and treat them as mindless playthings.
~Yes I am an elf.~ The conviction in his voice was thick, and he had unknowingly tapped into his magic. There was a flash that nearly blinded the snake, but largely went unnoticed by Harry, and when the creature regained its eyesight there was still a small child standing in front of him, but where the child was once pale with messy hair and rounded ears the boy now had brown skin and pointed ears.
~Well young elf I am Siersa~