Chapter Two: Harry Meets the Baron
Harry stood outside the imposing doors of Gringütts for a moment, then braced himself and went in. The banking hall was enormous, with marble floors and high ceilings, and long lines of well-dressed Swiss persons queuing in an orderly manner at numerous counters, served by well presented clerks.
Harry smiled. He had been wondering how the two conflicting influences of the French and the German characters worked in the Swiss psyche. It seemed to work okay.
He swallowed and approached the customer service desk, and was directed to the third door on the left. Once inside there, he was back in familiar Gringotts territory. The goblin behind the high desk stuck his quill behind his ear and glowered at him, "Guten Tag, bonjour monsieur?"
"Hello, I am Harry Potter from England." England. A country where goblins are seen as amusing garden ornaments. The goblin scowled.
"Hmph, I am Vingnutt, ze principal clerk. Please to come with me."
Harry followed the small dusty creature up a staircase onto a gallery which overlooked the main banking floor and turned right to follow the goblin.
Before he had taken a half dozen steps there was a loud bang and the lights went out, leaving them in total darkness. Immediately there came a babble of cries and the sound of scuffling from below.
"Ze emergency lighting vill quickly on come," the goblin muttered from somewhere nearby, but seconds passed in the darkness and the noises from below grew louder.
Harry reached behind his hip and drew his wand in the flickering Federal Aurors draw he had learned in the US.
"Illuminatio!" he shouted, and a tiny ball of fire left the end of his wand and shot up to the ceiling, where it became a glowing sphere that illuminated every corner of the huge hall, displaying a scene of chaos.
Well dressed burghers were standing on top of the counters, rummaging in tills, and filling their pockets with great handfuls of notes and coins. Others were scuffling in small groups over bundles of currency; more were holding goblins at arm's length by their throats as they rifled cash drawers. As soon as the light appeared, they all froze.
After a few seconds they quietly put down the money and goblins, emptied their pockets, and returned to their queues, shamefaced and watched over by glowering clerks.
Suddenly the lights came back on, and the scene was exactly as it had been, except for the general dishevelment of the customers.
A small number of people had stood aloof from the chaos, the group standing immediately beneath where Harry and the goblin stood on the gallery.
One of them called up to Harry, "Excuse me."
"Er, what?"
"Did you say "Illuminati?"
Harry shook his head, "No, I said 'Illuminatio'. It is a… a technical term of instruction to my electrician to replace the fuse," he lied swiftly. "The Illuminati, on the other hand, are a legendary and quite fictitious secret organization of powerful individuals who have run the planet for the last thousand years. Another of those crazy conspiracy theories."
"Ok, thanks," the voice shouted up, and the group, which Harry noticed included the Secretary of the Communist Party of China, two cardinals wearing mitres and bearing croziers, the vice president of the USA, and David Beckham, broke up as its members returned to their respective queues.
Another goblin hurried up. "The Baron would like to speak to Mr. Potter."
Harry followed him into a lift and up several floors to a spectacular penthouse office.
A distinguished man in his fifties came from behind a huge antique desk, empty but for dozens of framed pictures of blonde children, and shook hands.
"Bonjour, bienvenue, Guten Tag. I am the Baron von Rattrapp, chairman of this establishment. Welcome to our bank, Mr. Potter, I am told that your, your special skills saved us from some serious difficulties just now. It is very unusual to have a power cut, a failure of our three backup generators, and a total eclipse of the sun at exactly the same moment, but these things happen."
He waved Harry to a seat.
"Allow me to invite you stay in my chateau and to join me for lunch today. It will be a humble affair, but mon chef prepares a magnificent civet of roast tripe on a bed of steak tartare with caviare and lobster claws. And of course some bratwurst."
Harry demurred.
"It was nothing. I look forward to dealing with Gringutts."
"Gringutts, Gringutts? The vord is Gringütts, Gringütts, vith an umlaut. Alvays the umlaut with precision pronounced must be. Alvays!"
Harry jumped back.
The Count was embarrassed by his own outburst.
"My apologies mon ami, one becomes tiresome on the subject of ze grammaire. Please come to my home with me now and we can have lunch, you can get settled into your suite, and I can introduce you to my family. We can deal with the banking matters tomorrow."