Dimensional Warrior
Chapter 7
After twenty years in Asgard, Harry floated over the dry a part of the Western Australian desert. Sweat ran down his face even though it was December 31.
Stretching forth his hand, sea green energy flowed in the air before him, forming a giant spike.
Flicking his fingers down words, the spikes shot into the earth sending up a pale cloud of dust into the star-filled night sky as it sank into the dirt.
Closing his eyes, he reached out. Connecting with the spike, he sent tendrils of Psionic energy through the earth.
In his universe, this area contained a large Goldmine that produced around $1.2 billion with gold in the mid-1980s.
Hopefully, by getting here right at the beginning of the decade, he could claim the gold for himself.
His brow furrowed as he found small amounts of gold in the dirt. Grabbing it, he began bringing it together while pushing deeper. More trace amounts of gold were found in the dirt as he pushed deeper, causing him to send out smaller tendrils to grab it.
Keeping part of his mind on the task, he thought back over the twenty years he had spent in Asgard.
Throughout his training with Freya, he learned that his energy changed. Magical energy and his psychic abilities merged to create something new, but similar to both. Luckily, it still operated the same as magic, only more potent so he was still able to apply the teachings of his mother, the Potters, and Freya.
Instead of allowing the dwarfs to teach him, Odin taught him the art of forging. Even though he learned a lot, he found Asgard to be a stagnant place. There was no pushing the boundaries of what they knew, the people there were satisfied with what they had.
After only nineteen and a half years, he couldn't take it anymore, so he teleported himself here two begin building his fortune. His eyes drifted upwards, he did learn that the Daemonite's didn't exist in this universe, the closest thing he had come across in the Asgardian library was a race called the broods, but they were more of an insect hybrid that merged with the host, and it was really obvious when they did.
Without the major threat of the Daemonite's, what was his purpose, what did he want to do with his life? He shook his head, he still wanted to help others.
With a gesture, the spikes grew and morphed, becoming a tall machine with a spout curving out of the side. Golden eggs began falling out of the spout.
The sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon when the last golden egg fell out of his machine. Wrapping a tendril of sea green colored power around his prizes, he shot through the air.
There were a few more places he could pan for gold.
–XX –
By 10 AM on January 1, 1980, Harry strode through Diagon Alley.
People moved back and forth around him, going into the tall wooden buildings that lined either side of the street. Sunlight reflected off the glass of store windows, drawing his attention to the wares on sale.
His gaze drifted over to a large marble building at the end of the street. He really didn't want to use Gringotts wizarding bank, he didn't trust the goblins not to try to take advantage of him, but he didn't exist in this world, so he really didn't have a choice.
A shiver ran down his spine as a cool wind wrapped around his body, tugging at the pale red T-shirt he wore. Shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans, his palm brushed the pocket of his leather jacket, bumping the shrunken trunks inside that held his prize against his side.
Stopping at the bottom of the stairs, he eyed the two creatures standing on either side of a pair of golden double doors.
They were 4-foot-tall with pale wrinkled skin. Their Brown hair was slicked back. Yellow eyes with a vertical pupil stared back at him, and long fingers with pointed nails flexed.
Pointed noses twitched as they sniffed the air.
They wore three-piece suits complete with a white button-down shirt tucked into black trousers. A black vest set over the shirt with a small chain fastened around one of the buttons and leading to a side pocket. A dark jacket covered the best.
Stopping in between them, one corner of his mouth curled in a smirk, "I'll say this, you may be short, but you do have style." With that, he continued to the doors, surprise written on the creatures' faces.
Behind him, he heard their dress shoes snapped together as they stood a bit taller.
He had read a lot of books in his time. Growing up in an apocalypse world left him very little else to do. Goblins were said to be fierce greedy creatures, and while he did sense that within their minds, he also sensed great pride for the nation that they had built.
Taking a seat at the end of a line of wooden chairs, he looked around the room.
Dark marble made up the floor. The white specks shone in the light coming in from the glass dome that sat in the center of the ceiling.
A long counter made of Ebony wood took up the room to the left of the entrance.
A total of eight goblins sat behind the counter, their long fingers moving with surprising grace as they went about their task, their yellow eyes gleaming with malevolent cunning.
Between the counter in the rows of chairs people walked in orderly lines going about the task.
He watched as two robed figures made their way to the far end of the bank, one headed down an arch-shaped tunnel, the other headed down the hallway.
Curious, he reached out with his mind.
He watched the first climb into a metal cart that sat on tracks.
The cart took off, blurred images flashed through his mind as the cart moved deeper into some underground tunnels. As it slowed, he caught a glimpse of large square metal doors made of serpent-like metal that intertwined.
Releasing his connection, he focused on the second person.
They walked down a hallway with doors on either side of them. Nameplates flashed in the light of Lamps that were set in the spaces between doors.
"Next, next."
Breaking his connection with the person, Harry rose to his feet. Slowly, with measured steps, he made his way towards the counter. Pausing before it, he stared at the nameplate before the goblin.
"Hello, Mr. Griphook, I would like to open an account."
The goblin stared at him for a long moment, and Harry stared back, taking in his features.
He had a large head topped with slick back grey hair.
Part of him wondered if slicked back hair was a style of the race.
Black eyes stared at him above clasped hands.
Clearing his throat, Griphook smoothed down his green vest. Feigning noninterest, he wiped the sleeves of his white button-down shirt. "How much will you be depositing with our bank?" He asked in a bored tone, but the interest in his eyes gave him away.
Reaching into the pocket of his jeans, Harry withdrew a piece of paper. Setting it on the counter, Harry stared into Griphook's eyes, keeping a finger on the paper. "Keep the amount quiet until we are behind closed doors."
The power in Harry's words caused a slight echo that made the goblin tense, before a glassy look flashed in his eyes as he relaxed, "Of course."
Harry slid the paper forward.
The goblin picked up the paper, flipping it open with a long thumbnail.
His eyes widened as he saw the amount written on the paper. Spinning in his chair, he hopped down from the stool, disappearing from Harry's sight.
Hurried footsteps drew his attention farther down the counter, he watched Griphook disappeared down the hallway full of doors.
Shoving his hands into his pockets, Harry made his way back to the row of chairs.
"Mr. Warkiller?"
Harry turned.
A 5-foot-tall goblin walked towards him, dressed in a black jacket, a purple button-down shirt, black slacks, and polished black dress shoes. Like the rest of the goblins he'd seen, his pale blonde hair was slicked back.
Black eyes with a golden Iris sized him up and down as he stood to his feet.
A long-fingered hand stretched forward.
Harry gripped the offered hand, feeling the points of claws press against the skin of his wrist, "That's me, and you are?"
"Marcus Bloodstone."
Harry raised an eyebrow, "Marcus?"
Marcus grinned, showing slightly pointed teeth, "My father was Marcus Black, a squib from the Black family. He was determined to make it in the wizarding world even without the ability to cast spells. He became renowned in potions. Eventually, catching the attention of this fine establishment," he gestured around, "after working here for a while, he met my mother, and as they say love conquers all."
"Now," Marcus clapped his hands together, "let's go to my office and talk about why you're really here."
Marcus turned and began walking away, Harry followed behind him.
"Half-breed huh, that explains the height. I wonder what else he can do."
–XX –
Bookshelves filled with thick leather brown books line the walls of Marcus's office.
The scent of ink and parchment hung heavy in the air.
A large mahogany desk with a high wingback chair sat in the center of the room. The light from a lamp on the corner of the desk reflected on the chair's red leather.
Moving into the room, Marcus took a seat behind his desk.
Harry allowed his eyes to scan the books on display before sitting down in a chair in front of the desk.
"I'm surprised, you have a lot of books on magic. From what I know, goblins tend to focus more on weapons or melee combat."
"I was homeschooled in the trades of my people, and I have a cousin, Sirius Black, who loves to stick it to the family by sending me rare books."
"Now," he interlaced his fingers, "let's get down to why we're here."
Reaching into the pocket of his leather jacket, Harry pulled out pieces of folded parchment. Setting it down on the desk, he pushed it forward.
Picking up the parchment, Marcus began flipping through it.
Reaching into his jacket pockets, Harry pulled out small stone chests he had conjured and shrunk to hold the gold.
"It says here," Marcus began slowly, "you want to deposit 2.2 billion pounds worth of gold." His eyes widened at the number, he glanced up at Harry, "where did you find that much gold?"
Straightening up, Harry leaned back in his chair.
"Let's just say I have a talent for pulling gold out of thin air."
Smoothing the shock from his face, Marcus cleared his throat, "I believe Gringotts can help you gain in identity in the mundane world as well as convert whatever funds you need into mundane money for a fee of 12 percent."
Harry's eyes narrowed, and his pupils glowed with a sea green light.
"12 percent," he said slowly, his voice low, "do you take me for a fool."
Marcus tensed a bead of sweat running down his long-pointed nose.
Reaching out with his mind, Harry easily slipped past the Goblin's mental barriers. Gently, he began nudging the goblin to be more receptive to his suggestions.
"For this amount of money, a one-time fee of 3 percent will suffice."
"Agree to this, and I will offer you a device that will gather the gold as I do. You will be able to keep 5 percent of the gold gathered."
"10 percent exchange rate for the money, and 4 percent of the gold found by the device."
"5 percent exchange rate, and 6 percent of the gold collected by the device."
"Agreed, but my clan gets exclusive rights to use this device."
Harry considered the offer.
Though he could take over the man's mind and force him to accept any deal, it was a risk. He could always send his power through the earth to gather the trace amounts of gold that is found in the soil if he needed more money.
"Fine, but you sign a contract that if any goblin or third-party steals from me, Gringotts will reimburse me +2 percent."
Marcus's eyes narrowed, "Gringotts takes the protection of its wares very seriously, to insinuate anything else is a grave insult."
Harry leaned forward, applying a bit of psychic pressure to the half goblin's body, "So is trying to swindle me out of 12 percent. Besides, if you do your job right, Gringotts will never have to reimburse me."
Sweat ran down the wrinkled skin of Marcus's face.
For some reason, all goblins had wrinkled skin, even the children.
"Fine."
Smiling, Harry reached inside his jacket pocket, pulling out another folded piece of paper. What he didn't tell the goblin, was that this contract had a compulsion to make him deal honestly with him.
–XX –
An hour later, Harry John Howlett walked out of the bank his pocket containing cash and a debit card that would work in the mortal world. He decided that his last name of Warkiller would draw too much attention, so he decided to use his father's mortal name.
Marcus would purchase the shopfront he had found here in the alley and by this time next week, he would begin his life as an alchemic healer for those less fortunate. Hopefully, he would be able to stay under the radar while also providing help for people and watch out for threats to the earth at the same time.