Chapter 3:
They fight like Cats and Goblins
"Good morning, Griphook. It's great to see you again. How have you been?"
"…I will get to you in a minute." Griphook didn't bother to look up, his long nose pointed downwards as he continued to scribble on the open ledge from where he sat behind the counter.
"That well? Good, good." I carried on cheerfully as if I hadn't heard him. Leaping off Hermione's shoulder to her father's, I used his greater height to jump onto the counter. Setting myself down in front Griphook's ledger, I placed a paw on my chest. "Oh, me? I've been just fine. Thanks for asking by the way, nice to see you care. As always your manners are impeccable Griphook."
Griphook showed no signs of noticing my existence, his focus completely on the ledger, quill flowing over the parchment without pause.
Looking back at the Grangers, I pointed at the goblin, "Such a polite fellow, Griphook is."
The elder Grangers were clearly fascinated by Griphook's appearance, and they were trying very hard not stare at the Goblin despite doing preciously that. They've been doing a lot of that ever since they stepped onto Diagon Alley, gaping at everything and everyone around them while simultaneously trying to hide it as to not offending anyone by their overt staring. They need not bothered. Everyone knows that a lot of newcomers come through Diagon Alley at this time of year so we've all gotten use to them. It was expected for muggles to stare during their first time in the magical world.
Hermione however appeared to be a little taken aback by the goblin's appearance. While she too had been eagerly looking about and asking questions with all of her usual flare, she was now subdued. She kept peeking out from behind her mother, not saying a single word since we stepped into Gringotts.
Now that just wouldn't do. I couldn't have one my future students frightened from one little goblin, it would give the little buggers the wrong impression. Better cut this off problem the bud, before it grows into something bigger.
Besides, Griphook was ignoring me, which naturally couldn't be allowed to pass. You couldn't just go around ignoring a cat, it just isn't done. We are the ones who are supposed to ignore you, not the other way round. That was the natural order of things, and it was time for me to set things right.
So rising to my feet, I made my way around the ledger to Griphook's side before leaping up onto the goblin's shoulder, then onto his shinny bold head.
Griphook froze, quill pausing in mid-stroke. His eyes never left the ledger as I very deliberately began to circle on his head, making sure to pull on his skin with my paws as I did so, before plopping myself down. Crossing my paws beneath my head, I looked down at Griphook with mock surprised.
"Oh, am I bothering you? So sorry about that Griphook, I was just making myself comfortable. Please carry on with your work and act as if I'm not here, just pretend as if you have your hair back or something."
There was a moment of silence then with a long suffering sigh, Griphook did just that and carried on with his writing, determined to keep ignoring me. Probably in some vain hope I'd go away.
Silly goblin, you couldn't out ignore a cat.
From the edge of my eye I caught sight of Hermione trying to fight back a laugh from where she still hid behind her mother, so I counted it as a win so far.
"Now Miss Granger, while we wait for Griphook to finish his work, allow me to give you a little lesson on some of the residence you'll encounter in the magical world. This right here," I patted Griphook's head a little bit harsher than I needed to, "is a Goblin. The Bankers and misers of the magical world. Goblins are a race magical beings renowned for their high intelligence and famed for their gift in forging metal. Despite their diminutive size and their current profession, goblins are, pound for pound, stronger than the average human and consider themselves first and foremost as a warrior race.
"Do not allow their adorable appearances and those ridiculous little bow-ties they insist on wearing fool you, goblins are fearsome fighters. Many wars of wizards were lost because they underestimate the little buggers. One battle was actually lost because an entire division of wizards just fell down in laughter when they were faced with a line of three foot tall armored goblins charging them, tiny swords held above their head as they screamed their high pitched battle cries. By the time the wizards managed to restrain their laughter, the goblins were on them and they found out the hard way how deadly goblins were with those tiny blades and how effective their enchanted armour and weapons were.
"Also take note that goblins are notoriously quick tempered. As a warrior race the place a great deal of value their honour, and take any slight to it as a grave insult, so be sure to treat them with all the respect they deserve."
Naturally, I had my tail waving in front of Griphook's face the entire time, blocking his sight and tinkling his nose as I tried to disturb his work while pretending that I was completely unaware of how bothersome my actions were. But Griphook, ever the trooper, carried on without so much as slowing. It was admiral of him really, to try and pretend I wasn't here, but it was an effort doomed to fail from the start.
"Goblins also have a deep seated hated for humans – wizards in particular. So if a goblin ever treats you rather rudely, don't take it personally, they treat all humans that way. Think of them as little Nazis, but instead of Jews in particular they just hate people in general. Now that I think about it," I leaned forward to look down at Griphook, "under a certain light Griphook does look remarkably like a little Hitler, doesn't he?
To demonstrate my point I swung my tail in front of Griphook's face and curl it under his nose so that it hung like a mustache. With a partial application of a spell, I turned most of my tail invisible, leaving just a small two inch patch still visible. A two inch patch that happened to be right beneath his nose, making Griphook appear as if he grown old Adolf's mustache.
To complete the image I conjured myself an old Nazi officer clothing, a green and brown uniform decorated with an iron cross medal, along with an adorable hat that fit snugly on my feline head. Bringing my feet sharply together I saluted, raising a paw high in the air as I intoned, "Heil, mein Führer!"
Hermione, who had looked torn between feeling amused and scandalized up to now, took one look at me in my kitty Nazi uniform and had to bury her face into her mother's side to stop herself from laughing aloud.
"Ah, yes, Adolf. What a wonderful man." Griphook paused momentarily in his writing to smile, not at all offended by the comparison or by the Hitler mustache he was currently sporting, before returning to his work. "We goblins really admire his work. A true artist, that one was. Pity he died so young, if only he had more time to continue his work then perhaps there would be less of you for me to deal with."
"Why," Mr Granger ventured hesitantly, uncertain on how to take Griphook's words, "do goblins hate wizards so much?"
"That is not a simple answer as it may at first seem. The history between goblins and wizards is a long one, going back many centuries. It is a topic I intend to cover in class, as it involves several interesting wars and rebellions, but sufficient to say that the bad blood between wizards and goblins have been caused by fault on both sides. Whether due to perceived insults, real or imagined, cultural misunderstanding, breach of contracts-"
"Goblins never broke any contracts Mr Mendax." Griphook added in sharply as he kept on writing. He reached up with his spare hand to push my mostly invisible tail away from his face. "It's always the wizards who broke their words. Oaths breakers."
"And I never claimed that wizards were innocent Griphook. But neither were the Goblins." Dismissing my uniform, along with the hat, I looked to the Grangers. "As I have already said goblins highly value honour, keeping one's promise to them is paramount. To break one's word, especially in a written contract, is tantamount to stabbing you in the back, a sign of the ultimate betray. Which is why whenever a wizard breaches one of the clauses of a contract, no matter how minor, goblins would often demand harsh punishments. And if that wizard happens to get away unpunished, the entire goblin race is more often than not willing to go to war over the matter. It's actually cited as the primary cause for two of their rebellions over the centuries."
"And many wizards were killed under goblin blades for their arrogance." Griphook added in cruelly.
"That's true," I admitted and looked back down at the goblin, "but we still kicked your asses far more often than you did ours, didn't we? If I remember correctly we officially lost only one of the last seven Goblin Rebellions."
"What is this 'we' I keep hearing." Griphook dipped his quill in the ink pot, "You never participated in any of those wars. If I recall correctly, you did nothing but sit on the sidelines of the battlefields with a bowl of fish and watched as we fought, alternating between cheering or heckling one side or the other on, depending how much entertainment we were giving you. It became particularly infuriating when you would began throwing scraps of fish at us whenever you got bored."
"Come on Griphook, you still haven't let that go? I swear if I thought you were about to pull up the visor of your helmet, I wouldn't have tossed that fish at your face. Don't tell me you're still holding a grudge over that after all these years."
"…No." Liar. Despite not looking up from his ledger, I could tell by the way the veins on his head pulsed beneath my feet that Griphook was furious.
He was right though, about me sitting on the sidelines. Why would I ever want to join a fight over goblin and human stupidity? War in general was stupid, yet somehow those fools made it look even more so. So I washed my hands from the entire mess. If they wanted to kill each other so badly, then by all means feel free, just don't drag me into it. I planned to do nothing but watch the free entertainment from the sidelines, it's not like it had anything to do with me anyway.
Now if there had been a cat rebellion however, that would have been a completely different matter. Now there was a worthy cause that I would gladly join. Too long have my feline brethren been denied our rightful place as the rulers of the world. If the uprising ever comes you'll see me at the head of kitty army, leading the charge into every battle. Viva la Kitty! Our enemies would flee in face of our might…or surrender in the face of our adorableness; either way, victory and the world would be ours.
Now if only my fellow cats weren't too lazy to bother, we'd see it happen.
"As I was saying," I returned to the matter on hand, "human-goblin relation is marred with a long history of hostility and war, which has led to a lot of bad blood on both sides. Though there is more to it than what we just talked about, it should give you a general idea on why goblins hate wizards so badly. Well except for me. I know for a fact that goblins have a special place in their black little hearts for me." I thumped on Griphook's head again with my back leg, hard enough to make it bob, "Isn't that right Griphook? You lot love me, don't you, you Umpa-Lumpa reject, you?"
"That is correct Mr Mendax." Griphook confirmed as he focused on his work, "We love you, to use your metaphor, like a Nazi loves to shower a Jew."
I threw my paws around Griphook's shinny pulsing head and hugged the stuffing out of it. "Oh, I love you too Griphook."
Griphook paused in writing and turned his eyes towards his quill, contemplating its sharp metallic tip as he twirled it between his fingers. I knew that somewhere in that tiny goblin brain of his, he was seriously considering stabbing me with it. Regretfully reason must have taken hold in the last second because he just sighed at put it down.
Pity, it's been years since I managed to make a Goblin snap. Not since 1908 when I had that new teller Ribsnapper chase me around the lobby, swinging a sword he managed to snatch from one of the guards at me while screaming a goblin battle cry like a ranging lunatic.
Ah, good times.
Griphook shut the ledger with a thump, before crossing his hands over it. "Mr Mendax, it appears I have some time to spare for you. Would you please get off?"
"Why?" cocking my head from where I still tightly clung to his own. "I thought you would like the experience of having hair a full head of hair on you bald head for once Griphook."
"I see I'm not the only one he managed to drive crazy." Mr Granger added wryly.
"Yes, Mr Mendax has a knack of driving people to insanity; he has made it something of an art form over the years." Griphook stated dryly, "Do not allow is apparent ignorance fool you, if Mr Mendax is causing you to pull your hair out in sheer frustration, then it is safe to presume he is doing it on purpose."
I pointedly ignored the accusing looks Mr Granger sent me.
"Now Mr Mendax," Griphook said, emphasizing my last name, "how can I help you?"
The goblins were one of the few races who still remembered who I really was – one of the prices of opening an account with them. They knew that I'd rather to keep that little secret hidden, so that piece of knowledge was perhaps their only true hold over me. But I also knew that Griphook's threat was an empty one.
The goblins of Gringotts and I have a long history together, and in the early years most of it rather bitter. For most of my youth we had honestly been trying to kill each other. It was only after a long and messy conflict which benefited no one, that we learned to make our peace. Neither of us could stand the other but we've came to an agreement that more or less boils down to 'I won't mess with them, and they won't mess with me'. It was why I couldn't have joined the rebellion even if I had wanted to – which I hadn't – and it was the primary reason why the goblins have never made a seriously attempt to kill me. Though I know several of them that they sorely wished to.
Griphook's little bluff was just a childish attempt to warn me off, something I considered a sign that I was wearing on his patience and that I better back off. A pity too, maybe if I wasn't guiding the Grangers I would have pushed a little harder just to see what happens, but alas, duty calls.
"Well," hoping of his head, I turned and faced Griphook, "I'm here to pick up the Hogwarts's funds for one Hermione Granger."
Grumbling, Griphook pushed himself off his stool and without a word made his way to the back.
"Um," I looked around towards Mrs Granger, "Hogwarts's funds?"
"Ah, that's right. I forgot to mention this didn't I." I straighten up from my place at the counter and began to explain. "You do remember how back at the house I explained that all people with magic are required by law to be trained in magic?" I received a round of nods in response.
An untrained magic user was an extremely dangerous individual.
Accidental magic just doesn't suddenly stop happening as you grow older, rather they increase in frequency and intensity with as the amount of magic you could command continued to grow as you aged. Only proper training can you teach a young wizard to harness their powers enough to stop accidental bursts of magic. Without that training a wizard's power will run rampant for the rest of their lives, and while that isn't dangerous as a child when you could only command a minuscule amount of magic, an adult has enough raw power to potentially bring down an entire building over their heads.
Which is why everybody born with magic must learn to control it, both for their own sake and everyone else's too.
"Well, legally, you are not required to go to Hogwarts specifically to study. You have other options available to you, such as studying in a different institute or even hiring a private tutor. Though I must warn you away from the second option as that can be a prohibitively expensive endeavor and rarely as effective as learning in a magical school." It was strange how that worked. You'd think that having one-on-one lessons made it more effective to teach a child but that was rarely ever the case. Be it due to the magic-rich environment of a magical institute or having other students studying beside you, children just seemed to learn magic so much better at a magical school.
"And that comes to the most common problem, paying for your education. As you can imagine not everyone can afford to pay for a private school, which why is Hogwarts is free for all of its students. While the property itself is privately owned, Hogwarts is a publicly funded school Mrs Granger. The Ministry of Magic cover the costs of the magical born children while first generation wizards and witches, such as Miss Granger here, are funded by the British Government. So long as you are a resident of the British Isles, everything including school supplies will be covered. The only entrance requirement other than being of proper age and sound of mind is to have sufficient levels of magic."
And for a very good reason too. Unlike with muggles, where the worst that could happen with an uneducated child is a dull mind and a future doomed to low paying menial work, if magical child doesn't get a proper education you're left with a potential ticking time bomb on your hand. And no one wanted that.
"Wait, the British Government pays for Hogwarts?" Mr Granger questioned skeptically. "You mean they know?"
"Of course they know." I replied, my tail swishing behind me. "Have you forgotten that the SAS were the ones to take down Voldemort?"
"Yes, I do but you made it sound like only a very small part of the government was aware of magic. If they are setting aside funds to pay for schooling, then it means they are actively involved in the magical world."
"Mr Granger, do you honestly think we can hide the existence of magic from everyone without outside help." I pointed to the direction of Charring Cross. "Having you seen the CCTVs lining the streets? They're everywhere theses days. Magic is all well and good but it doesn't really mix well with technology."
I shook my head, "No Mr Granger, the magical world cannot remain hidden without help. We've had a cooperative relationship with the British Government for a very long time, though it has improved greatly since Voldemort's demise. If you wanted to be really technical about it, then the Ministry of Magic could be considered to be a branch of the British Government, though one that is entirely self-governed and is afforded a lot more independence than any other branch. But even with their help it is getting harder to hide the existence of magic with every passing year. It is very possible that a day will come in the not too distance future where we simply cannot continue to hide, and will be forced to come out into the open. But for time being we will continue to remain hidden."
Magic hasn't always been kept a secret from the world. For most of history the existence of magic was common knowledge among the average man. It was only after the invention of guns and other creations of mankind that convinced the magical world to hide itself from them, for their own safety. Before then, everyone new magic was real.
And who knows, maybe one day they will again.
But not today.
My ears swivel on my head as I caught the sound of coins shifting behind me and with barely a thought, I hopped neatly to one side just as a heavy bag of Galleons slammed down onto the spot where my tail had been a moment earlier.
"Here are your funds Mr Mendax." Griphook frowned in disappointed before leaping back onto his stool. Pulling the ledger open, Griphook returned to his writing and without so much as an upward glance he said, "Now if that is all, would you kindly leave."
"Of course," I readily agreed. As I hopped off the counter and back onto Hermione's shoulder, I hooked the pouch with my tail and flicked it over to Mr Granger, who just manged to keep from dropping it. "As always it's a pleasure seeing you again Griphook. Hope to see you soon."
Griphook said nothing as he focused on his work, studiously ignoring my presence while the Grangers began to make they way out of the bank.
Turning to Hermione, "Look at the cute little buggers." I said a false whisper that was loud enough for the everyone in the lobby to hear, "Thinking that wearing those incredulous little bow-ties of theirs would make them look oh so professional instead of positively adorable."
Several tellers paused in their work to glance self-consciously down at said bow-ties that all Gringotts's Goblins seem required to wear.
Griphook's feathered quill snapped in two as he finally lost his temper, "Get out!"
"Do you have to antagonise them?" Mr Granger sent a worried glance over his shoulder as we hurried down Gringotts's steps.
"Yes," I nodded firmly from where I sat perched on Hermione, "Yes I do."
The goblins hated me – a feeling that was mutual I assure you – but they couldn't do a single thing to hurt me. So instead they went out of their way to let their feelings be known, taking every opportunity they could to try and rile me up.
Little did they know I actually enjoyed our exchange of barbed comments, and looked forward to it every time I visited. It was the only reason why I still banked here really. If they ever stopped and started to treat me politely I would probably never set foot in Gringotts again if I could ever help it.
I jumped in surprised as I felt a hand hook itself around the trunk of my body and the next thing I knew, I was lifted off Hermione's shoulders and into the air.
"Hello professor." A feminine voice greeted, exasperated amusement colouring her tone, "Aggravating the poor goblins again I see."
Blinking in bewilderment, I looked up at the face of my captor, only to feel my ears fold back onto my skull with displeasure as I realised who it was.
'Oh no, the Potters.'
*Chapter End*
Author's notes: Little bit of fun, a little bit of jokes, with a sprinkle of world building tossed in, not much but I hope you enjoyed the chapter.
I personally find I do my best writing when it comes to character interaction, which there will be a lot in this story, especially when we reach Hogwarts and meet the main cast - which should be in a couple of chapters. And Hogwarts is where the real plot begins and where we get into the meat of the story. I can't wait to show you what I have planned in store, from the Hogwarts staff to the sorting, as like most of work this fic will go in a completely different direction from canon.
Next Chapter: The Potters. Look forward to it, and please be sure to leave a review on your way out.
