Shield, Not Savior

"Stop pointing at him," I say through gritted teeth. "Just keep walking."

Potter drops his hand and does start walking, only not in the original direction. He strolls directly for the goblin, as if it were an everyday encounter.

I barely manage to snag a piece of his shirt, pulling him to a stop.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"I'm going to ask him where the mint is. Unless you-"

Don't be easy, I remind myself, think Malfoy thoughts.

"No, I'm not going to tell you. And neither is that goblin, but sure, knock yourself out," I say, suddenly passive.

I let go of his shirt, realizing that this may just be exactly what Potter needs to learn his lesson. He'll find out that goblins are vicious, greedy creatures and he'll be scared and regretful, but nothing bad will happen. Not with my shield still around him. It's the perfect controlled environment for him to learn. Besides, it's just one goblin. What harm could he do?

Potter extends his hand as he approaches the goblin.

"Hello. I'm Harry Potter," he introduces.

I expect the goblin to glance at Potter's hand as though it were the dirt under his feet, spin in place, and disapparate. To my amazement, the goblin actually appears impressed, and gives Potter a firm handshake in response.

"I know that name…" he replies, cautiously, "Some sort of Wizard celebrity?"

It's incredible how such a simple comment can be what makes Potter nervy, and yet waltzing around with a demon-possessed ex-death eater is no issue at all.

"I- no, I mean, yes, but that's not… I mean… I'm here looking for Bristok. Do you know him?"

While Potter flounders with his power of speech, the goblin looks me up and down, no doubt trying to decide if I'm worth anything in gold.

"Doctor Bristok? I've 'eard of him in passing," the goblin says slowly.

"Really? Do you know where he lives?" Potter asks, all too eagerly.

The goblin shakes his head.

"Oh, well could you give me directions to the Wizarding Mint? Someone there may be able to help us."

I brace myself for the goblin-rage sure to come at the audacity of such an idiotic question. What comes instead is a response even more predictable for a goblin.

"I believe I could 'elp you out… It wouldn't be cheap, though…"

The surprised look on Potter's face is so naïve that it would almost be endearing, if not for the fact that what he says next is pure stupidity.

"I- I don't have any means to pay you now, but our tent is set up just over those hills. If you wait here until I find the doctor, I will come back with however much you want."

I slap my hands over my eyes to avoid the blinding flash of greed that flickers in the goblins eyes.

"'owever much I want?"

"No!" I hiss, and the goblin shoots me a look of steel.

"Well… within reason, yes," Potter backtracks.

"Five 'undred galleons?"

I laugh, and even Potter balks at that.

"That's reasonable?" he asks.

The goblin shrugs and pretends to back away.

"If you don't 'ave that much…"

"No- I do, I do," Potter says quickly, fooled by the goblin's act. "Just, can you take me to the Wizarding Mint? Please?"

The goblin smiles wretchedly and I look away, pulling on Potter's arm.

"Are you really such an idiot?! We need to get back to the tent before—"

My body is whirled away from me, yanked in a thousand directions, and then slammed back together.

The first thing I notice when I find myself on solid ground again, is that it's raining. Then I hear a groan and look down to see Potter on his knees in a mud puddle.

"You're stepping on my robes," he grumbles.

I quickly move and grab his arm to help him to his feet. When we're both standing and looking around, we find that we are in the center of the city. The goblin is in front of us, waving and grinning.

"Down 'ere is the Wizarding Mint," he says, gesturing into a metro entrance behind him. "Just tell them that Jintok sent you and that you have gold to invest."

Potter doesn't give me a split second to respond before he is sprinting ahead, straight down the stairwell.

"Thank you!" he calls back.

I let out a growl of frustration that is halfway between anger and murderous rage. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the goblin grinning as he starts to spin on his heal. My hand darts out and snatches up his collar, effectively stopping his disapparation.

"Don't even think about it," I warn in a low voice. "You're not going anywhere, especially not back to our camp to steal Potter's gold."

The goblin screeches in protest as I start to drag him down the stairs after Potter. He starts flailing madly and I hardly make it two steps before he twists around and tries to bite my hand. On instinct, I pull my hand away from his yellow stained teeth.

The goblin vanishes on the spot.

Great. Bloody great.

Everything that could possibly go wrong seems to be doing so with a vengeance.

I race down the rest of the stairs after Potter, clenching my jaw and bracing myself for the insanity of whatever else the day has left to throw at me.

To Muggles, the Dublin metro is a mode of transportation. To goblins, the metro is a ridiculously fortified labyrinth filled with gold beyond measure. To Wizards, it's the demilitarized zone between us and goblins.

Paralleling the tunnel carved out for the Muggle train track, there is another tunnel, the entrance of which is blocked from Muggle sight by a large poster of a woman in lingerie advertising perfume. Wizards and goblins can see and travel straight through the advertisement and into the entrance of The Wizarding Mint of Dublin.

I've been here twice before on Father's business ventures that involved transactions with goblins. Father would bow over my shoulder, twirling a galleon between his fingers, and whisper in my ear: "See that entryway over there? That is where the gold is turned to coins. It's where the real magic happens. But if you go in, you never, ever, come out."

Never, ever. NEVER.

Despite the warning pounding louder and louder in my head, I dash straight through the advertisement without a moment's hesitation. I hardly even glance to make sure no Muggles are watching.

The tunnel is dark and dank, exactly like the regular train tunnel. Even the threat of immediate death is the same, although something tells me death by goblins is worse than death by train.

I walk cautiously, but swiftly ahead, keeping my ears alert for any Potter-like sounds. I shudder to think what that may be. My heart pounds like a drum beat of doom in my chest.

I come to a branching hallway and pause, looking down it for just a second before I see a flicker of light and hear a boisterous voice.

"Come, Mr. Potter, have a seat and let's talk business!"

I rush down the hall after the sounds and in my momentum, I almost pass the one lit room.

"In exchange for my investment, I am hoping for some information," Potter's voice says, almost directly to my right. I pivot into the room, practically stumbling over Potter who is seated in a rather ridiculously small chair across from a stout and full bearded goblin.

"Who is this!?" the goblin exclaims, standing up in shock.

"Er—," Potter starts, and I ignore the meaningful look he gives me trying to communicate a warning to back off. Something like I've been trying to get through to him for the past eight hours.

"I am Harry Potter's body guard," I answer steadily, "And who are you?"

Harry blinks and starts to smile bemusedly. I give the leg of his chair a swift kick.

"I am president of the Wizarding Mint of Dublin!" he announces, pushing his chest out that much further. "So you've come to rescue Mr. Potter?" he asks with a short chuckle.

"No, just shield. I leave the saving to him," I say smoothly. If my Father taught me anything about dealing with goblins, or anyone for that matter, it's to always show perfect confidence.

The goblin grins, almost, but not quite, maliciously.

"Well, then, perhaps you would like to join us on a tour of my gold stores? Obviously you are not allowed into the factory, but I think you will find our gold very inspiring!"

"Tour?" I ask, praying I misheard.

"Yes, of course he would," Potter says, swiftly standing and almost crashing his head on the ceiling.

"Potter," I growl through my teeth as the goblin strides past us and out of the room.

"What? I need to see the store rooms if I'm going to invest," he says with a self-satisfied smirk, and a casual shrug. "Didn't I tell you it would all work out? All I had to do was say my name combined with 'investment' and he invited me in for a tour!"

By now, I know it's too late to apparate back to our camp and try to prevent our things from getting stolen. As much as I would love to prove that I was right about the goblins and that he should've listened to me, I don't have the heart to break the news before necessary.

"I underestimated the insatiable gold-thirst of the goblins," I mutter in defense.

"Come along, gentleman!" the goblin calls. "I have a meeting to attend at half past nine!"

Potter nods his head towards the door, allowing me to follow first. Suppressing all my better judgment, I give him a bone curling glare and walk through the doorway and down the hall after the surprisingly fast President.

By the time we catch up to him, he is working through a series of locks on a door that I seriously doubt the short-statured goblin has the strength to open.

"I suppose you have an anti-apparation jinx?" I ask.

The President looks up at me with disdain appearing in all of his non-bearded features.

"Of course we do! You insult my security. We have more security measures than Gringotts and the Tanzanian Mine combined!" he pauses to push with all his might against the door. It opens eventually, and as his face turns back to its normal shade, he adds mischievously, "Of course, we also have more gold then both those places combined."

Looking through the doorway, I wouldn't doubt his claim at all. Stacks of coins line the hall before us, with heavy vault doors on either side no doubt leading to even more unimaginable wealth.

I don't even have to try to imagine it though, because the President skips ahead, neatly dodging all the coin-obstacles in his way, and starts opening each and every vault door to show Potter the spectacle of gold stored within it.

With each door he opens, I double the strength of my shield around Potter. I keep expecting him to say, "Aha! This is the room where we turn Wizards into Sickles!" and shove us into the room and lock the door behind us.

"I can feel that," Harry whispers to me as the President proudly shows yet another room filled to the ceiling with solid gold.

"Feel what?" I ask.

"You're magic. Are you shielding me?"

I pause for a second, about to deny it. Instead, I nod.

"Hm. It feels nice," he comments before following the President down the hall.

It's not until we're back in his office that I realize the tour is over.

"That was incredible, Mr. President," Potter gushes, "I will-er- always remember your Mint when I want to invest in the future."

"Future? Why not now?" the goblin looks seriously annoyed.

"At the moment, I am on a rather important quest. I won't be able to invest until after it's finished. Actually, I am hoping you can help me," Potter answers delicately.

I'm surprised when I find myself impressed at his subtlety. I didn't think he had any in him.

"I see. How can I help, then?" the President asks, still with a gruff tone.

"I am looking for a Doctor Bristok. Maybe you could ask your employees in the factory about where I could find him? The more I ask, the more likely I am to get an answer."

The following guffaw is so unexpected that I can only stare at the jiggling belly of the goblin-president and try not to laugh myself.

"You came to Dublin looking of the Doc?" he gets out between bursts of laughter, "Oh, my dear Mr. Potter, as one of his closest friends, I can assure you, he hasn't spent more than a couple holidays in Dublin since 1982, after his big break through."

"Big break through?" Potter asks.

"Why the exorcisms! Wizards, goblins, elves, all sorts of magical creatures from around the world are requesting his services!" The goblin leans in towards Potter and adds in a low voice, "evil spirits are everywhere, he says."

Harry glances up at me before asking, "So you have no idea where he could be?"

"Sure I do! He does research in Urumqi between his trips around the world. That's where his last owl came from, in fact!"

"Um...?" Potter asks questioningly, looking between me and the goblin.

"It's in north western China," I inform him.

"Ah."

We both look at the goblin, having nothing more to say. His face is partly blocked by a furiously scribbling quill.

"Yes, yes. Well I hope you find him and finish your quest soon. I would much appreciate your investment!" He drops the quill and hands Potter the parchment. "If you do find Ol' Doc, give him that from me. It is a promise of full payment from me for whatever services you request of him. Now I really must be off to my meeting!"

We watch the President scamper away, and then stand up and head out the hallways in silence, Potter thinking about whatever, and me thinking about what the hell Potter could be thinking about. Not knowing makes me uneasy. He's usually open about his thoughts.

As we walk out onto the streets of Dublin, I'm about to settle on Potter possibly thinking about giving up, when he says in a sudden and awkwardly giddy voice, "Well, that didn't go so bad. And who knows, China could be fun! And hey, if we find this doctor, he could possibly get rid of your demon! See, I told you it would all work out!"

There's a span of about three seconds between when he says the last thing and when he grabs my arm to Apparate. In that span, I know I could have taken the opportunity to warn him about the impending thievery. I just choose not to.

My body twists apart in Apparation, and then folds back together.

Our lot is even worse than I expected. The flat, Irish countryside we appear in is completely desolate. Our tent, everything, is gone.

I turn to Potter and meet his shocked expression with a flat, tired expression of my own.

"You were saying?"