Harry smiled at the memory. "Yeah, seeing that vault all full of gold was just shocking. I'd never had anything but what little I could make from turning in bottles, weeding gardens and shoveling dog doo out of yards and my cousin would steal most of that."

"A well off lad like y'self, shoveling shit for muggles?" Chopgrill finished making the tea and poured.

Harry shrugged. "I didn't know, and you do what you have to do in order to get by. Shoveling um, shit, isn't the worst thing that I can think of. At least I got paid for it. My relatives made me work for free. I had to get my own things or make do with clothes and stuff that Dudley got too fat to wear."

"Ha! Just like a goblin then. Tea up!" Chopgrill let Harry add lemon, sugar and milk to taste.

Harry sipped his tea and nodded his gratitude at Chopgrill, content to stay out of the conference room. "Now that's good. Kind of like liquid flowers with bacon and butter."

"Special blend for the guv. Expensive stuff, twenty pounds a go, just for him. I've been trying to suss out what's in it, but no luck so far. There's all kinds of special faff. We get it from Jings." The goblin glanced furtively at the door and poured one for himself. "Must have been a shock, hey?"

"I honestly thought that goblins must be some kind of space aliens. Hagrid's a good sort, but he isn't much for long explanations." Harry sipped.

Chopgrill laughed. "Space aliens! The lads'll get a kick out of that. Hagrid… Isn't that Dumbledore's giant? He sent a bloody giant?"

Harry grinned. "Vernon let a fishing shack on an island in the Bristol Channel trying to hide from the Hogwarts letters. The first time that I saw Hagrid was when he broke down the door and told me that I was a wizard. He brought me a birthday cake, the first I ever had, and then put a pig's curly tail on my cousin when he tried to take it! They had to get it surgically removed! It was brilliant!"

The goblin laughed. "That's a giant for you. Big in every way. Live in the moment they do. So them that you stayed with told you nothing of your magic? What about the accidental?"

"They didn't say much to me about anything and what they did tell me was either orders, lies or general bollocking." Harry shrugged. "I got blamed whenever anything happened, but I could never understand why until Hagrid came. The relatives didn't want me to know, but Vernon couldn't stop Hagrid."

Chopgrill nodded thoughtfully. "This Vernon bloke is dying the thousand deaths over what's bound to happen when you take after him with your wand. I know that I wouldn't want a crackin' strong wizard with a grudge after me. You've got years yet to plan it all out, so it'll be bloody glorious!"

Harry nibbled happily at a biscuit and then shot the goblin a startlingly wicked smirk. "Vernon was never much for thinking ahead. He tried to shoot Hagrid, but lucky for him the old shotgun that he found had rusted solid."

"Better than a wand, but still not good enough. Shotgun'll do for a wizard easy as anyone else, but a little bit of lead will never do any harm to a giant. Got magical resilience, they do." Chopgrill shook his head. "No percentage in angering a giant like that. They get tetchy and stomp a bloke flat before they ever think once."

Harry nodded. "Nothing worries Hagrid. He's got a pet spider out in the Forbidden Forest, a huge old thing called Aragog. It won't kill Hagrid, probably couldn't kill Hagrid if it tried, but it told me that everyone else was strictly on menu. Scariest thing I ever saw. There are dozens of them the size of a London taxi or even bigger out there. We got away, but Ron absolutely shat his trousers."

"Acromantula in Britain? Can't say I blame him." The goblin straightened, looked at the door and slid his purloined tea in amongst the empties on the cart just as it was flung open.

Stonefist emerged. "The viewing is concluded. Will you come back inside with us, Mister Potter?"

"Sure." Harry put down his cup. "Thanks for the cuppa, Chopgrill."

"No worries, Harry. Send your owl 'round and I'll get you that blend number."

"Yeah, thanks." Harry stepped through the door, reflecting that Vernon Dursley would give away all of his possessions and become a begging monk before Harry Potter would shell out twenty pounds for a cup of tea. He stopped, surprised to see his memory of Dobby flinging Lucius Malfoy down the causeway being projected on the wall, repeating itself over and over. "Sorry, I didn't realize that I'd copied so much. That part was ages after we got out of the Chamber."

Ragnok waved a claw dismissively. "Think nothing of it, Mister Potter. It was relevant and this excellent bit of comedy is just the thing after such a dramatic feature. Come and sit. If you would call your elf, we have a few questions regarding some of your recent transactions." He stopped the projection and waved for Stonefist to remove the print from the pensive.

"My elf?" Harry, watching as Stonefist put the memory into a bottle, was unsure of what the goblin meant, but he only knew one elf. "Do you mean Dobby? Dumbledore hired him for Hogwarts."

The goblins laughed.

"Whatever Dumbledore is playing at, that elf bonded his magic to yours when you shook his hand." Ragnok gave him a significant look. "If you think carefully, Dumbledore merely led you to believe that the only way for the elf to survive was to work at the castle. Your agreement to that dissembling statement was taken by the elf as an order to work at the castle and obey the headmaster, who could then order the elf to not contact you unless called. He is your elf, your magical servant. One needs to be very careful with one's magical servant, as one is legally responsible for their actions. Letting others command them can put you in a very precarious legal position should they play you false."

Harry sat down and bit his lip. "What could he do?"

Stonefist laughed. "Rob you blind, for one. Elves are useful creatures, but the Brethren don't use them for a reason. If one has, say for example, authorized one's elf to pass wards, remove objects or make withdrawals from one's vaults, one had better revoke their access before freeing them, lest they decide to get even."

"Is that why there was a summons?" Harry's heart sank. "Am I in trouble?"

"Don't worry, Mister Potter, I have called the auditors off. From what we have witnessed here your honor remains unblemished." Ragnok grinned. "The summons was in regard to a series of unusual transactions that occurred only moments before a suspicious death. It seems that Dobby the Elf took it upon himself to substantially expand the Potter holdings at the expense of his former master's organization."

"Dobby stole and put the money in my vault?" Harry blanched. "Can I give it back?"

"You cannot, Mister Potter, and you should not try, as no treaty, law, rule or trust was violated. The fact that those vaults only accept deposits from certain individuals means that you are presented with the classic fait accompli. This is a common practice with confidential vaults, in order to prevent interested parties from depositing a knut to confirm the existence of said vault in order to proceed legally against it." Ragnok laughed. "It seems that someone has exchanged a veritable mountain of gold for a single large and well used polyester blend sock. It was perhaps the most expensive sock in history."

Harry stared, open mouthed. "He left Uncle Vernon's old sock?" Growing up he couldn't do anything about Dudley, but Harry had often kept a handful of pebbles in that sock in order to dissuade Harry hunters before using it to free Dobby.

Stonefist snorted. "Your elf demonstrated an admirable focus on vengeance for one of its kind. He withdrew one million, seven thousand four hundred and ninety one galleons, forty five thousand sickles and twenty one knuts, everything in the vault. In doing this he triggered a default in the vault agreement, and certain penalties kicked in. As the muggles say, he 'socked' it to Riddle."

Harry gulped. He had learned from Hermione's angry muttering that the 'exchange rate' with the muggle world was subsidized by the Ministry and that her family could only exchange a little more than the equivalent cost of a muggle public school education, which unfairly limited her book buying. He understood that a huge golden galleon was in truth worth hundreds of pounds, if not just for the gold. "Malfoy will kill me."

Ragnok met his eyes. "Malfoy was in the process of casting a killing curse when the elf intervened, Mister Potter. That memory alone would be enough to condemn him in an honest court, but it seems by some happy coincidence that he met his well-deserved end not long after your parting. A criminal like Malfoy has many enemies, jealous rivals biding their time and of course the never to be underestimated loved ones of his victims, all nursing their anger and thirsting for his blood. He was well known to bear Voldemort's mark and few wizards truly care for the Ministry or the corrupt Minister's blustering defense of his benefactor. Malfoy's bad end was as inevitable as it was deserved."

"Won't Draco get the aurors after me when he finds out?" Harry controlled his breathing.

Badaxe spoke up. "If they inquire, send them to Gringotts. We will gladly confirm that that the Riddle vault was never a part of the Malfoy Estate and that Draco Malfoy has no claim upon it. The only living being that is currently authorized to enter, other than Dobby Elf, is one Bellatrix LeStrange and she is indisposed for the rest of her life in Azkaban."

"Draco is never going to believe that I didn't steal it from his father. He'll go whining to Snape and they'll come up with something." Harry knew that the Slytherin way was to send a whole gang after someone with a lie or two in order to soften them up.

Ragnock laughed. "Such interest from the Malfoy is to be welcomed!" He leaned forward, his features shifting to an all-encompassing predatory malice. "If they are so foolish as to play against you in the arena of corruption, then you have the advantage overflowing from your vault. Put Malfoy's reaction from your mind, Mister Potter. Once kicked from their place such curs all instinctively know to sulk away quietly, lest the resentful pack fall upon them for their failings. The Malfoy are your magical, financial and social inferiors and well they know it."

Harry scowled, thinking of Ripper. "Dogs will always try to dodge around behind you while their pack distracts you. Draco is just a problem waiting to happen."

Ragnok shrugged. "Happen to him first if you think it prudent. The boy is all but defenseless should you seek his end. The former Malfoy chose to ignore his vaults in favor of his master's business. The Malfoys have long cultivated the appearance of wealth while living quite precariously."

Harry frowned. He could probably push Malfoy off of the stairs or something, but did he really want to do something like that? Malfoy had always seemed rich, but perhaps that was just a façade to keep people guessing. "But what about all of his pureblood friends? Won't they help him?"

Stonefist sneered. "What friends? The Malfoy pretend to be descended from some ancient root, but they began with an enterprising hedge witch, probably muggleborn, who made a fortune smuggling wine during the Napoleonic wars. That fortune was squandered by his grandfather's time and so Lucius did as he must. The modern legend of the Malfoy wealth was created on his master's behalf and every knut of Tom Marvolo Riddle's wealth is derived from the proceeds of organized crime. With the death of his last free manager, the structure of that criminal organization has been compromised. It will be interesting to see how long those once under Malfoy's heel continue to pay the price for Voldemort's 'protection' without the organization enforcing their loyalty.

"Voldemort's tribute vault." Harry nodded slowly. Draco coming to the realization that he wasn't actually a prince would be fun to watch. "But still, it's all stolen money. Shouldn't it be returned to its owners?"

Ragnok shook his head. "Spoils of war, Mister Potter, untraceable and unaccountable. Nature dictates that profit must walk hand in hand with victory and most of that gold was in fact the proceeds of vice, not theft. Whatever its origin, gold does not stink and some of it doubtlessly came from your vault after your grandmother's kidnapping. Your grandfather paid ten thousand galleons to get her back, an enormous sum that significantly impacted his wealth and yours. Consider it a refund with interest."

Harry's face hardened. "He kidnapped my grandmother?" He truly hated Tom.

"Yes." Ragnok was glad to see incipient murder in the boy's eyes. "Astrid Black was the eldest of her generation of the Main-Line Blacks. Her husband, Fleamont Potter, never reported the kidnapping to the aurors. They both died of Dragon Pox, as did a number of other pureblood opponents of Tom Marvolo Riddle. Note that these were persons with blood ties to some of Riddle's main financial backers, persons that he could not strike at openly."

Harry scowled. Riddle had killed his grandparents too. "Thank you for telling me about it. I'm keeping it all. Every last knut. I'm going to burn anything of his that I can't take. How do we get Dobby here? What do we do, send him an owl? I don't know anything about elves."

"He's tied his magic to yours, so all you have to do is want him to come." Badaxe consulted a tablet. "Yes, like that. He's on his way from the elf entrance." He shot Harry a sardonic look. "We aren't numpty wizards to let the nasty little buggers pop about wherever they want."

"Nasty? Dobby was… well, I guess that he did break my arm, but he also sort of indirectly saved us from being eaten by giant talking spiders." Harry frowned. He was going to have to find out more about elves.

Ragnok shook his head. "Speaking with you is a process of continual small shocks interspersed by quite large ones, Mister Potter. Where did you encounter living acromantula?"

Harry grinned nervously. "There are hundreds of them in the Forbidden Forest. Hagrid put them there as pets. Aragog said that it was going to eat us, but we got away in a car."

The goblins exchanged bemused glances. Spider silk was a closely controlled monopoly of the Empire of Azteca and the creatures were never allowed off of the ranches. Properly contained, the spiders represented vast potential profit.

"One thing at a time." Shaking his head at the day's astounding parade of opportunity, Ragnok continued, "First, our most sincere congratulations on your glorious victories over Slytherin's basilisk and your enemy, Tom Marvolo Riddle. Gringotts would like to tender an offer of one hundred thousand galleons for the basilisk remains. We believe that our eventual profit will be thrice that, but it is a fair price, as the eyes were destroyed and properly rendering the carcass will be a costly and hazardous investment. Our eventual profit will be realized through a gradual sale of the valuable potions ingredients over a period of decades."

Harry blinked. "Doesn't the snake belong to Hogwarts?"

"You slew a monster in single combat, Mister Potter. The Law of Gilgamesh holds that all benefits accrue to the Monster Slayer alone. None may gainsay your right to the proceeds or keep your agents from it." Ragnok consulted a note. "It must sit a few days for the skin to loosen, but it will soon be ready for harvest. We will prepare an expedition and have you open the way to the asset for us should we reach an accord."

"Okay." Harry cleared his throat. He wouldn't know the first thing about skinning a snake like that or selling it. "I want to keep a fang and a jar of venom for when Riddle comes back, but it's a deal."

Ragnok grinned at the small boy's rock-solid certainty that he would prevail over the fearsome Dark Lord. "Excellent! We will have an armorer mount the fang on a hilt with a proper venom reservoir to keep it deadly for generations."

"Thanks." Harry blinked uncertainly.

Stonefist spoke. "Gringotts would like to purchase that diary too. We offer you a knut and a ten percent discount on a curse-breaker's assistance in dealing with any more such objects found in the future. They can be a nuisance unless properly cleansed."

"I left it with Dumbledore." Harry shrugged. "If he'll give it up, then sure. Is it because Tom tried to rob Gringotts that you want it?"

Badaxe sprang to his feet. "Rob Gringotts! When?"

Harry blinked, not sure what all the fuss was about. "July, 1991. It was in the paper. He was riding on the back of Professor Quirrel's head. They broke into vault 721 to steal the philosopher's stone, but Hagrid had already taken it away."

Ragnok lurched in his seat and then sank back down. He had truly thought the incident the last in a clumsy series of plots by Clan Ichengo to try and discredit him. "There was a… philosopher's stone in Gringotts?" They were the most illegal objects in the world and the Goblin Nation would instantly go to war if they found anyone trafficking in counterfeit gold.

Harry shrugged. "It was red and supposedly belonged to Flamel. I don't know why someone that old would give the stone to Dumbledore, but Tom wanted it bad so I took it away from him. Dumbledore said it was destroyed."

Badaxe was grinding his teeth. "Do you have any idea where we may locate this 'Professor' Quirrel?"

"I had to kill him." Harry's tone was grave. "Tom was possessing him and he attacked me. I never liked him, but the professor gave his life for a thing that didn't care about him at all, like he was a chicken or something."

There was a brief silence as the incredulous goblins checked their probity probes and then Stonefist chuckled. "There's another hundred galleons of bounty money. You are having quite the profitable week, Mister Potter."

Ragnok was rubbing at his temples. "Mister Potter, it would be most helpful for Gringotts internal security to examine those memories too, perhaps several times. We know it's an imposition, but the bank would like to purchase the rights to view any memories associated with Tom Riddle, as well as the memory of your latest battle. We offer twenty galleons each."

"Okay." Harry couldn't see any problem and it seemed easy money. "Could I get some in hand? I have four sickles and some knuts in a box at Hogwarts, but it's hard for me to get money when I need things. Hey, could I get some real money too?"

"Of course." Ragnok's smile was rather toothy at the child's evident belief that printed muggle debt coupons were 'real money.' "We'll get you ten thousand pounds and throw in our finest high-security money bag, Mister Potter. If there is anything else that Gringott's can do for you, please do not hesitate to ask."

"Do goblins manage investments? I don't want it all just sitting there."

Harry had always hidden food, water and books to read for when he was locked in his cupboard. He liked to keep hard books, something that needed his stained old paperback dictionary to puzzle through and try to decipher for days. He only had the once-trendy and mostly unread business leadership, sales and investing books rotated from Vernon's office display to choose from. Vernon handed them off to Dudley in the mistaken belief that his offspring was literate and Dudley promptly binned them. Consequently, Harry had gathered from an early age that money must be put to work.

Ragnok nodded, impressed. "You are of course correct, but by treaty that decision is a matter for your guardian, Mister Potter. No such instruction has come to us in spite of our letters of inquiry."

Harry met his eyes. "I came here from Saint Mungos. They were keeping me there because they found out that I don't have a magical guardian to authorize me to get properly vaccinated so that I can go back to school. Dumbledore pretended that he was my guardian, but since I'm not really a muggleborn wizard it's just not true. You have to sign a proper contract to become someone's guardian and the Ministry can't find one. No one knew what to do with me so I decided that it was none of their business and left."

Ragnok frowned. "Gringotts maintains a full staff of healers for our employees and I invite you to patronize them as you please. They are every bit the equal of any in the world and superior in many respects, such as the treatment of cursed wounds. You can certainly afford to avail yourself of their expertise. While Gringotts Bank must adhere to treaties regarding banking matters, as a blooded warrior you personally have no need for any sort of 'guardian' to control your activities within the boundaries of the Goblin Nation. In the meantime, we will expedite our inquiries to the Ministry. The matter of their withholding information regarding your magical guardian touches upon treaty and Gringotts will have satisfaction."