Six: Bad, Bad Prickgrip
I noticed that Clamlapper had leapt to his feet shortly after the traitorous Prickgrip. Quick as he was, Nutsack was faster. Scarce had the blade left Prickgrip's fingers than Nutsack's own blade was moving, and Prickgrip's head rolled limply, landing face up on the table, the grimace on his face now frozen forever.
For a moment, there was complete silence. I'm not certain, but I believe that the two remaining goblins were stupefied at the actions of their now dead colleague. We were brought back to reality by a whimpering coming from under the table. Ganelon and I both knelt down, ready to see the boy breathing out his last few breaths. Much to my secret delight, this was not the case. In my rush to retrieve my blade, I had failed to see Harry throw himself out of the chair and roll underneath the nearest protection. It was a good thing that his reflexes were honed by years of being chased by his fat cousin and his equally mentally deficient gang. It had saved his life. The blade thrown by the treacherous creature had been flung with deadly accuracy. The hilt now protruded from the back of the cushioned chair right where the lad's head had been less than two seconds before. In one corner of my mind, I wondered if his brain had even had time to register his body's reactions.
The two remaining goblins hastened around to the lower end of the table, concern and shock writ largely upon their countenances.
"Mr. Potter, are you okay?" The concern in Clamlapper's voice was unmistakable. I had a feeling that goblins did not often show any sort of emotions in the presence of those they considered beneath their notice. From what I had seen in the lobby on our arrival, I believe we were the exception, not the rule.
I was still surprised when the president himself knelt down and offered Harry a hand up. Warily, Harry held out his hand and allowed Clamlapper to assist him up.
The goblins were efficient, I'll give them that. In five minutes or there about, a goblin clean up crew had come, worked with amazing rapidity to clean the room, and removed the dead little monster. In fact, when they left, I saw no visible evidence that violence had occurred in this room at all. Harry had recovered a little bit of color by then, and managed to ask Nutsack in a tremulous voice what would happen to Prickgrip? I doubted he would be comforted by the reply, and I was glad that none was forthcoming. I did hope, however that the boy had missed the way the goblins licked their lips and grinned. I sure knew what it meant.
Once Harry had calmed down again with the help of a strong cup of tea, Clamlapper began to speak again.
"Mr. Potter, we at Gringotts must apologize to you and your guardian. I have no idea why the traitor acted the way he did, and his actions will be investigated thoroughly. You have my promise on that. Also, rest assured that you will have adequate compensation from us for this shameful deed."
"Sir, it really isn't necessary," Harry told him in his soft voice. "You are not responsible for his actions."
Again, the barest hint of a smile touched the mouth of the goblin elder.
"Mr. Potter, you truly have a refreshing attitude. I certainly appreciate you saying that we are blameless in this matter. Nevertheless, this affront occurred in goblin territory and was caused by a goblin. I'm sure that your guardian will explain the etiquette of the matter at a later time. But for now, know that I will personally see that you receive a compensation that is suited to the deed."
I made a mental note that one of the things that Harry and I would be discussing during his tutelage would be how to react in a situation like this. It was understandable that he had no idea how to work a situation to his benefit, and that would have to change and quickly. He was very fortunate that Clamlapper appeared to be genuine in his liking for the boy. I'm sure that my presence also added a bit of wariness to our host. For now, I was satisfied.
"Mr. Potter, since it appears that I keep getting interrupted by situations out of our control, I will be blunt now. The fact that you are here at Gringotts with your guardian and, apparently your new father, (he couldn't help but smirk at this), you are now entitled to hear the Will of your birth parents."
He nodded at Nutsack, who had been flipping through the papers that Prickgrip had brought with him as the now former Potter account manager. Nutsack hesitated for a moment, then said something in that strange language to his boss, then cleared his throat. The sound was not pleasant.
"This is the Will of James Bonderman Potter and Lily Evans Potter. I ask that you hold all questions to the end, as I'm sure that you will have several.
"Mr. Potter, your parents wrote one Will together. It states that should one of them die, then their assets would be left to the survivor. However, should both be deceased, your care is to be handled by the following; Sirius Orion Black, Godfather, Remus John Lupin, honorary uncle, Frank and Alice Longbottom, Alice being your Godmother, Brant and Alicia Davis, or any wizarding party agreed upon by a mutual consensus of all of the above. All assets are to be held in trust for you until you reach the wizarding age of majority, seventeen human years. A separate account has been set up to pay for any expenses incurred by raising you, as well as to pay for your schooling. Under no circumstances are you to be sent to live with Vernon and Petunia Dursley."
The goblin was interrupted here by Harry springing to his feet. It was rather an amusing sight seeing this little stick figure displaying such an angry expression, and I can tell you that I had a hard time keeping my amusement off my face.
"Can you please explain to me how I wound up with those sorry excuses for ferret droppings, then?" He actually was a bit more colorful than that, but I don't think a boy of his age that knows so much foul language needs to have it recorded. Perhaps when he was older I would remind him of this outburst.
"Mr. Potter, I understand that you are upset, and I can tell you that we at Gringotts were unable to ensure that this Will was followed. You see, I can now tell you since you asked that another Will written by your parents was produced by the Ministry of Magic. Now before you ask, the one at the Ministry was a forged Will, but no one will take a goblin's word over a wizard's."
"And do you know who exactly forged this work?" The question came from Ganelon, and I started a bit. I had almost forgotten that he was present.
I think that Nutsack had also forgotten, and, after shooting him a dirty look, for interrupting I surmised, turned back to Harry.
"The Ministry's Will was forged by the same person who witnessed your parents' true and correct Will, one Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore."
That was the second time I had heard that name today, and I was already growing to dislike the man, for man I assumed it was.
Harry's next question made me laugh in spite of the serious situation.
"Exactly who allowed Owlpiss Dumped-on-Cork the authority to do that?"
I somehow doubted that many people were privy to the sight of the president of the goblin nation spitting tea across the table while doubling over with laughter. Nutsack, too, was quivering with mirth. That sight started me laughing again also. Ahh, the wit of a small boy, an abused and malnourished boy at that. It warmed my heart in a way I hardly knew was possible.
Once we all had our mirth under control, Nutsack answered the question.
"Well, Mr. Potter, the reason that Owlpiss Dumped-on-Cork (he snickered again), could do this is that he is considered beyond reproach by most witches and wizards. Not only is he the Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, but he is also the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, and the headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, reputed by most to be the best school for teaching magic in the world.
Figuring that since I was apparently the boy's son whether I liked it or not, I decided that I needed to insert myself into the conversation.
"But surely he doesn't walk all over the wishes of every wizard or witch who loses a family member?"
Both goblins blinked and sat up a little straighter, staring at me with a mix of incredulity and astonishment.
"Surely, Mr. Corwin, you are aware of Mr. Potter's unusual .. circumstances!" It was the president who made this shocked statement.
"Well, considering I met Mr. Potter .. Harry .. less than two hours ago, I feel quite confident that there is a great deal about his life that I don't know."
From the look on his face, I was sure Harry agreed with me.
"Well, Mr. Corwin. Well, Mr. Ganelon. Well, Mr. Potter," Clamlapper looked entirely too smug. "It sounds like you've had a rather strange day so far, and I can tell you with certainty that it is about to get stranger."
Over the next twenty minutes, we received a brief history of the wizarding world, at least the events relevant to Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived. We were told of the terror caused by Lord Voldemort and his followers. We learned the difference between pureblood, half-blood, and Muggle-born. I found the term Muggle a bit funny. We learned of the Ministry of Magic's pathetic attempts to deal with Voldemort. Albus Dumbledore and his role in fighting the maniac was also explained. We were told how Harry's parents opposed Voldemort at every turn.
We were told of Sirius Black and his supposed betrayal of the Potters to Voldemort. When it was mentioned about how Sirius Black had given up the Potters through something called the Fidelius Charm, both goblins exchanged a quick glance. I resolved to find out why later.
We were then given the sad details of how, on Halloween of 1980, Voldemort showed up at the Potters. Details were sketchy, but what was known was that Voldemort had dueled James Potter, killing him quickly before the others could escape. It was then believed that Voldemort went to kill Harry, murdering Lily Potter when she refused to move out of his way. He then cast the unblockable Killing Curse upon little Harry.
"And that," Nutsack concluded, "is where things went very wrong for him. No one knows how or why, but the curse struck you, Mr. Potter, right there." Nutsack pointed to the lightning bolt scar on the boy's forehead.
"The curse rebounded upon the Dark Lord, destroying his body and casting his spirit out. You are the first person to survive the Killing Curse, and the people of the wizarding world see you as a savior of sorts. In fact, you are known to them as the Boy-Who-Lived. Many believe that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, as he is often called, is dead. We goblins know better, as does Albus Dumbledore. We believe that he awaits only a means of forging a new body for himself, and then he and his followers called Death Eaters will recommence their war on the wizarding world."
Clamlapper spoke up then.
"It is our belief that Professor Dumbledore plans on using you as a weapon to fight the Dark Lord when he returns to power."
"Then the sooner we get Harry out of his influence, the better it will be," I decided. It was, I also decided, just as well that they didn't know what I had planned for the boy.
Clamlapper nodded at my statement, and then motioned for Nutsack to read more from the Will.
yet before he could begin reading, we were once more interrupted. There was an urgent tapping on the door, and then a fairly young goblin came in. Clamlapper glared at the newcomer.
"Yes, what is it, Flickclit?" All three goblins scowled at me as I burst out laughing. I jokingly promised myself to have a discussion about goblin naming with them at some point in the future. Young Flickclit's next words, however, robbed me of any mirth.
"Honored one and guests, Albus Dumbledore has just stormed the lobby, and with him is the Minister of Magic, two reporters, and about five or six Aurors."
I sighed. I had no idea what Aurors were, but I was in no mood to deal with Owlpiss Dumped-on-cork right now. It looked like one way or the other, however, that I was going to meet him whether I wanted to or not. Physically, I was not worried that I could take him, but I was still so new to this form of magic, I knew I would stand no chance against a fully-trained wizard. Yet, it seemed as though I had no choice. Unless ...
The president must have noticed my smirk, because he shot me a curious look. At his puzzled expression, my smirk became a full-on smile.
"Harry, m'boy. It seems we've kicked over an ant hill today! What say we turn it into a hornet's nest?"
I had my doubts at exactly how much he understood about all of the whirlwind events of the day. I also am certain that he knew we were most likely in a spot of trouble, and, in his eyes, I had found a way out. I caught Ganelon's eye, and he smiled and nodded back, knowing I had a bit of a nasty streak on occasion. He was game for whatever mayhem I had planned.
Turning back to Clamlapper, Nutsack, and the young Flickclit, I announced in my most imperious voice, "It is time for us to take our leave of you."
They, of course, immediately claimed that there was no other way out without having to encounter Dumbledore and his friendly little posse.
"Never mind, my fine fellows," I told them in that same pompous voice. "Watch and learn: watch and learn."