Chapter 3 – Minerva's Big Day, part the first.
A/N: So it took me a while to write this. Just a coupla hundred words, I thought. Not gonna be too big, I thought. That was two weeks and several dozen edits ago. But I am kinda happy with the result; conveying the chaos of having two parents with medical degrees and two children that know they are special meet up with someone that nixes all their cool interpretations and goes straight for the hocus-pocus is really fun, especially when everyone's too busy wrapping their heads around each other to care about trivial concepts such as 'tact' or 'sanity' is an utter blast. This time, things get... more interesting than usual, too. All I can say is, poor Minerva.. Oh, and i'll be correcting the mistakes I make writing this in the next month or two. Right now, i'll settle for writing the first parts through first.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. My Dark Lords would never settle for Earth alone or use a small, inbred minority to eventually go up against a majority that outnumbers their total combat force by 6 million to one...after initially defeating a population that outnumbers their forces by a 'mere' 20 to 1... in the UK alone. Mine aim for total domination of space rather than a mere planet and take pains to focus their subjects' hatred on one specific minority that it is easy to hate, namely the aforementioned inbred, rich and snobby racists.
Fate is a strange thing to dwell upon. After so long teaching children and people supposedly old enough to be adults about everything from manners to how to turn a button into a battle tank, she'd become something of an expert at reading children.
She'd met shy children, boisterous children, spoilt brats and abused alley rats bearing the same message; you are special. There are others like you. I can do it too, see? And I can teach you.
Most of the time, their reactions told her just where these children would likely end up come sorting day.
It was fairly reliable too: wide-eyed and excited tended to signify Gryffindor, curious yet open was a Hufflepuff reaction, suspicious curiosity screamed Ravenclaw and a cold, calculating stare was just such a Slytherin expression to wear. Though not many muggleborns made it into Slytherin, the house did not tend to kill them until after graduation day, a fact which she was thankful for.
Now, belligerent indifference was unexpected. A mocking smile was a new reaction too. Simmering anger, as if having their expectations grievously betrayed, was more of a pureblood rather than a muggleborn reaction. These two were an enigma. What would the sorting hat decide when the time came? For once, Minerva believed that only providence held the answer to that question. Pondering the fate of two children was a rather odd think to dwell upon too much...
"Magic." the cute girl with curly brown hair repeated with a frown, holding the letter as if it had just killed her pony. "Just what are we talking about here? Magic missile, perhaps? Is there a questing class that we have to attend? Do I need to make a character sheet or do I get my own when we get to the castle? Ooh, how much xp do I get for weeding the garden?"
She could hear the snort from the little boy in the corner. Though most of what the little girl had just said may have gone over her head, teachers had instincts for such things. And the two seemed to be relishing her discomfort.
"I assure you, miss Granger, that magic does exist. Both you and your friend in the corner can do it, as you demonstrated when I arrived." Having her magic probed by one child's magical core had been a novel experience, though one she heard other teachers talking about later. Being pinged by two magical cores, though, that was unheard of.
"So you felt that?" The little girl asked, most of her contemptuous gaze shifting into a calculating stare. "That's the first time that has happened in quite a while, you know. Most people don't even realise it when I sense them out." The boy in the corner perked up at that, his blue-green eyes narrowing in the shadowy corner. Minerva gasped as she felt an odd pressure coming from the base of her neck. What was that? It's unlike anything i've ever felt before.
"Harry, stop that!" The girl snapped, turning around to face the boy. "It's impolite to pulse directly into other people's force connections, you know that!" "Sorry, Hermione. Didn't mean for it to be that strong." "Don't do it again, understand?" "Yes, m-Hermione." Minerva stared at the little figure hiding in a shadowy corner.
"What were you doing, young man?" Her tone was curious, if a little tense at the unexpected intrusion. "Oh, nothing much really. I just wanted to test your connection to the Force to see what made you able to feel our scans. It's a pretty big connection. Bigger than ours, at least.".
Minerva smiled at the two children, desperately trying to come up with the right thing to say. Well done at mastering an Auror-level skill? Don't you ever do that again, young man? Where did you learn to do that? What else can you do? "Why thank you, Harry. Ask before doing it again next time, okay? As Hermione said, it was rude of you." Well done, old girl. Here, have a pat on the back for being diplomatic to a ten-year-old. The little boy's eyes didn't change position. His face was still shrouded in shadows, just like it was when she'd entered the room. "Sorry ma'am" Well, at least he'd sounded sincere to her. She then looked at the girl again, why was busy muttering as she read her supplies list.
The girl turned to Minerva. "I assume that you know where we can get these things?" The old Lady smiled at the young girl. "Good deduction skills indeed, miss Granger. Since all muggleborn need as much time as possible to acclimate themselves to the Wizarding World, i am here to both bring your letter and offer to act as a tour guide for both you and your parents."
The girl nodded at the older witch. "Harry, can you go get my parents please?" Harry went to go ask Sarah and Kyle to come down, please. There was an odd sense of deja vu when she saw the small boy hurry out of the room, almost like she'd seen someone that looked just like him before...
"Professor, I want you to promise me something." The girl was looking at Minerva with an odd sort of intensity "And what would that be, Miss Granger?" "Today, when we go to Diagon Alley, can you please make sure Harry's alright? He's very nervous around adults, and he's going to have enough trouble with what's happening today without having to cope with his new surroundings."
Minerva blinked. Again, another odd occurrence around these two... "And why do you think that will be necessary, miss Granger?" The child's jaw clenched. "Harry suffers from mild agoraphobia. He gets very nervous with open areas or places with lots of people around. He often complains about people looking at him weirdly whenever we are out in the open too. Please look after him"
The old witch felt her teachers' instincts throw up a red flag. "Of course I will, dear. If you don't mind, do you have an idea of why Harry has this problem?"
There was a look of pure anger on the girl's face for a moment, quickly replaced by a blank expression. "Harry's relatives. I do everything I can, but no matter what me, Mum and Dad come up with is not enough to go to social services. The best I could get on those bloody Dursleys is that they make Harry sleep in a cupboard and don't provide lunch for school."
Dread. Minerva had felt it a number of times in the last thirty years, well enough to recognise that the information that she'd just been given implied something... Bad. But what was it that had triggered that?
Agoraphobia, no. Social Services, not really. Ineffective help... Dursley. Where have I heard that name before? Dursley, Dursley, Dursley, oh no, please tell me i'm wrong-
"Hermione, what's your friend Harry's family name?"
Hermione felt a weird vibration in the Force coming from the 'witch'. God, how can Force wielders be so backward as to label something magic? She looked at the old lady with concern. Today was a day of firsts for her. The first Force wielder outside of herself and Harry that the two had met. The first time they were told about this 'magic' thing. The realisation that their little spiel had resulted in the maintenance of an entire hidden society parralel to the legitimate one. It boggled the mind. Now, though, Hermione had found another first. The old woman had lost control of her emotions and was dumping what tasted and looked like raw fear and apprehension into the Force Stream as if dispensing party favours. This was annoying, as she felt some of it trickle through her connection too, tainting the flow as it drove through her. And now that question. "Madame, are you alright?" She didn't look it, far too pale for her skin tone to be healthy in Hermione's opinion.
"Just answer the question please" "Well-"
"My name is Harry Potter." A voice said from the doorway. "And why do you want to know that, professor?" To the astonishment of the kids, the witch fainted. Just as the parents walked through the door.
"What have you two done now?" Kyle asked, curious as to why someone that looked as hard-bitten as Minerva would faint at a mere name. "You didn't spike the tea again, did you darling?" Sarah Granger asked her shocked daughter.
Minerva woke up to find a bottle of something... rank stuck under her nose.
"See, she's awake now! Told you it would work." a man in his mid-thirties said to a woman around the same age.
"I still say we should have let her system deal with the shock first. You know what extreme stress does to older people, Kyle. Lord knows we've seen it often enough." The man rolled his eyes at the woman's words. "Yes, we've seen it often enough. And you said she'd only need another five before she woke up by herself, so I figure we wake her now and give her fifteen minutes to calm down..." "But Kyle-" "No buts Sarah, she'll be fine".
The woman that looked a lot like an older, plumper Hermione with straight hair just stared at her husband. "Alright, but it's your problem if this happens again, got it? I am not losing my practitioner's licence over this." The man snorted. "Relax woman, I know what I am doing." "You're a dentist. Nothing to do with treating shock-induced trauma." "That's right, i'm a dentist, just like you. This sort of thing happens to me all the time, don't worry." "Maybe I should worry, because my patients sure as hell don't pass out on a regular basis." "Oh, and what about last Monday then? Or did I just imagine that Polkiss kid out like a light-"
Minerva coughed politely. This sounded like good-natured banter, but she really didn't have all day. "Excuse me, wouldn't you be Sarah and Kyle Granger, by any chance?"
"Oh sorry professor..." "McGonnagall. Minerva McGonnagall." Kyle grinned at the old lady in the strange dress. "Oooh, a fellow James Bond fan." "Who?" "... Never mind." the woman said, shooting a reproving glare at the man. "And yes, my name is Sarah Granger and that is Kyle Granger, my husband. Why are you here?"
"Magic." The witch said bluntly, smiling at the blank look on the parents' faces. "More accurately, the fact that your daughter can do magic." Again, just a blank look. "Look, have you noticed your daughter getting into, let's say, strange situations? Odd things happening around her and her friends, perhaps? Floating objects, things changing colour, ring any bells?"
"Sure, some weird things happened when she was younger, but her grandma set us straight." Ah, this will make things much easier... "She's got ESP." Or not.
"ESP? Is that some kind of muggle disease?" Kyle just looked at her, cleared his throat and proceeded to show just where Hermione's attitude came from"Honestly, has no-one told you this before? It stands for extra-sensory perception. She can do things like move small objects, bend spoons and predict small events in the future. It's all very exciting, really. And so much more believable than magic." Minerva just stared at the young man that was lecturing her about muggle rationalisations of magic whilst insulting her intelligence. Sarah slapped her husband upside the head. "Kyle Cameron Granger! How dare you be so rude to that poor befuddled old lady? Apologise to the poor dear right now!"
Right, that's it. And Minerva proceeded to do the only thing that she thought would redress this insult to her very nature; she turned the coffee table into a Pony whilst pinning the two muggles down with a Severus-worthy glare. Hermione and Harry could only stare. They could see, even in the Force, that this was an actual bloody Pony. She'd somehow twisted the Force surrounding the table and in the table itself into the shape of a Pony, and it'd turned into a small, horse-shaped creature that was sniffing the decorative flowers with interest. Whoever this lady was, she was scarily good. The two adult Grangers just stared at the glowering witch.
"Now listen here, you two. I am not, as you call it, a befuddled old lady. Nor is magic any more unbelievable than this Espee you hammered on about." There was a short silence while the Grangers stared at the miraculously appearing Pony, which was eating Sarah's potted plants and peeing on the living room carpet during this little speech. "My name is Minerva McGonnagall, deputy headmistress and transfiguration teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and I am here to deliver your daughter her acceptance letter to said school, which happens to be the best magical school in all of Europe. Now, I am willing to ascribe your family's blatant rudeness to the fact that what I am telling you is just too plain unbelievable for people as open-minded as yourselves to accept, so let's start over again."
She breathed in, reversed the table-Pony transfiguration, vanished the mess and cast an accelerated growth charm on the surviving plant life. "Hello, my name is Professor Minerva McGonnagall and I am here to talk to you about your daughter" she said, stretching a hand out to Kyle Granger. "Hello." "You made a Pony appear in my living room. A messy Pony. All gone now..." he said, shaking the hand with a frighteningly vacant expression on his face. "Quite. Sarah Granger, I presume?"
The woman blinked, shook herself and offered the older woman a weary smile while shaking her hand. "Indeed, Professor. You have to excuse my husband. His mind does not deal with changes in reality that well." "Really?" "Quite. You should have seen him after I asked him to marry me rather than the other way round. Poor dear didn't snap out of it for a week!" That certainly explained a number of things to the professor. "Truly? Will he be alright?" "Oh, oh yes, don't worry! He married me after he resumed normal operations, so this will work out just fine." Minerva relaxed. "Good, then. That is rather reassuring news to me, so I will just finish talking to you about a few things, then we can all go to Diagon Alley to introduce you all to the magical world."
And so Minerva and Sarah talked about Hogwarts, magic and what future Hermione could expect after her magical education. Then came the muggle sales pitch. "Of course, a lot of muggleborn decide to go back to the mug-normal world after graduation" Minerva declared. "We have an entire Ministry department dedicated towards providing whatever is needed for them to transition back into normal society". Sarah visibly relaxed "That's good to know. Will her post-magical education be covered by this as well?" "Oh yes, definitely!" Minerva smiled. "Why, we will assist her in catching up to normal education standards afterwards. She will even get to go to University through Ministry sponsorship if she wants to."
Even Hermione perked up at that. "Really? You'd pay for my tuition?" "And living expenses for the entire span of your muggle education, dear. After all, wizards and witches are magical Britain's most valuable asset. We look after our own." The deputy headmistress then discovered another oddity; an eleven-year-old girl that squeed at the idea of more school. Definite Ravenclaw material, especially with the rudeness factor there.
And little Harry, sitting quietly in the corner of the couch, had paid more attention after learning about that as well. For the first time, he spoke up."And me, professor? Will I get to go too?". Suddenly, Hermione deflated. "Harry, I haven't even said yes to going yet. I mean it sounds great and i'd really like to go, but it's magic. I couldn't really find out what it really is without talking to my faithful student about it, now would I?" Though the phrasing was... odd, Minerva felt, she couldn't deny the way Harry's smile lit up at her words. "Thanks, Hermione!"
Hermione turned to the professor, face set into a perfectly serious expression. "What pre-requisites would Harry need to fulfil to come with me, Professor?" The old witch chortled "Well, he'd need to be a wizard first. Then he'd need to turn eleven before August the first of next year and he'd need to have the consent of his guardians-" Sarah and Hermione winced at those words while Harry's smile fell.
"The Dursleys." Sarah muttered. "Of course it'd be up to the Dursleys."
"Actually, it isn't. You see, Harry's parents were wizards themselves, and Harry's been registered to attend Hogwarts since the day he was born. Only his magical guardian could actually intervene and stop the lad from going, but trust me when I say that that would be unlikely to happen at best. And based on the display those two have put up today, I would say that Harry is definitely getting his letter sometime soon."
Harry's face went numb from shock. My parents were Force users? I can go to... Hogwarts, what a funny name... with Hermione?
"Harry? Harry, stop ! You're losing control again." He started at the unexpected voice and touch on his shoulder. He looked at his teacher and friend, the joy of actually having options other than Stonewall and the Dursleys shining through the Force and infecting the stream around them. He quickly throttled his connection before his connection dumped the truly massive amounts of emotion swelling through him into such a closed space. "Whatever you decide, i'll be right there Hermione."
"Good, because i've decided that we're going to accept. Think of it, Harry! We have a whole new world to explore. We no longer have to hide our research, or our training-"
"Wait a moment. What have you two been up to?" A slightly apprehensive Sarah asked the duo. "Well, we've discovered that we are able to do... things, cool things. It took a while, but we've been exploring and mastering more and more cool abilities that help us do stuff." "We've got like these cool comic book powers! And Force powers, too!" An excited Harry chimed in. "Watch this! I can fly, you know." And then he proceeded to levitate himself off the ground. Both Minerva and Sarah fainted at the sight.
"Err princess, why is mommy out cold?" "Oh, Harry just decided to fly around the bloody room without warning me!" Kyle could tell when his little princess was angry with someone. He just sighed in naked relief at the fact that he was not involved and decided there and then to keep it that way. "Ah, so I am hallucinating. Hermione, love, can you look after Mom for me? Daddy's off to have a nap and burn off whatever was in that coffee he had this morning." And so Kyle Granger left his unconscious wife, the strangely dressed old lady who was also sprawled on the floor, his furious-looking daughter and her embarrassed friend to deal with whatever had happened. Turns out that being vulnerable to sudden paradigm shifts made for a handy excuse. Who knew?
"I'm really sorry" a sheepish-sounding voice said from somewhere in the corner. "I really thought it would be okay to show them, Master." "Harry!" a furious-sounding girl-voice said. "What did I tell you to call me in front of everyone?" "Your name." "And why did I ask you to do that?" "Because it's our secret... and because it's today is your day off from teaching me" "Why bravo, so you do remember! And what did I say about showing what we can do to others?" "Not to." "So tell me, apprentice, exactly what are you thinking, breaking these rules which, by the way, we both came up with and agreed to follow?" Harry just hung his head, unable to say anything in his defence. "Just don't do it again Harry, okay?" "Yes M-Hermione." "Good. Come on, let's wake up Mom and the Professor. Too bad Professor McGonnagall forgot to bring back the bottle of smelling salts when reversing the table-Pony Shift. Interesting way to bend the force, though."
Once again, Minerva McGonnagall woke to the rank stench of... something. And the face of a smug-looking James clone. She almost fainted again when she saw him. What was Harry doing here? What was this about a cupboard? What had those muggles done? She would find out. Heaven help Albus if what she suspected was true...
"See, Hermione? Told you that sour milk would work too." Harry said, handling a white carton of milk at arm's length. Hermione just snorted his way, too busy trying to slap her unconscious mother awake to direct a glare at her friend. "Then what are you waiting for, Harry? Bring the milk here, please." And so the professor got to see Miss Granger awaken and immediately start laying in with questions.
"Harry, what? Since when can you do this? What else can you do? And why do my cheeks hurt?" Minerva cleared her throat. "I do agree, that piece of magic would be rather... advanced by magic standards." The boy just shuffled his feet around, looking at Hermione questioningly. At her nod, he sat down on the edge of the couch. "A few months, a lot of other things and your daughter tried slapping you awake before I came up with the idea of using sour milk." Again, the older lady cut in. "And where did you learn this?" "Well, it's mostly meditation and manipulating our environment. There isn't any great secret to it" "I... see."
After Sarah's slightly dazed look vanished and a slow nod later, she looked around the living room. "Where's Kyle?" "Daddy went upstairs. You know how he is with paradigm shifts in the morning." Sarah sighed. "That man chooses the worst possible times..." She noticed the elderly Professor watching the group. "So then, my daughter clearly wants to attend, as does her friend. So what do we do now?"
Minerva smirked at the woman. "Now, we go shopping."
Across the street from the Leaky Cauldron lay a narrow alleyway. It was a somewhat strange place, even for a city such as London where strange stuff is part of everyday life. It had a reputation of playing host, depending who you talked to, to the most bizarrely outfitted drag queens this side of SoHo, an underground renaissance faire that spikes its mead with LSD, a gang of Sherlock Holmes impersonators and a deranged gun runner who tested out his stuff in a basement somewhere in the alley.
If anyone had actually found out the truth, chances were that they would have just laughed at such a stupid idea. Right up until a squad of these bizarrely dressed people turned up to try and steal their memories. Needless to say that the local Met Police Station was best known for having the highest number of head cases on file compared to anywhere else in the entire United Kingdom.
And so, when a crack resounded up and down the narrow alleyway, nobody looked up, or called the police, or paid any notice to what sounded like gunfire in the narrow alleyway. Rather, they just figured someone else would do it for a change.
Minerva looked at the three pale-looking people she'd just side-along apparated. Hermione rallied the quickest, turning a scowl on her future teacher.
"Lady, just what are you thinking, Displacing like that without a stasis shield? You could've killed us all!" Sarah just looked questioningly at her daughter. "Hermione, what are you talking about? What was that?"
"That, Mom, was what Harry and I call Displacement. It's a kind of teleportation where you throw yourself through a crack in space while directing yourself as close as possible to a destination. You need to firmly keep the destination in mind as well as put a stasis shield between yourself and the Void if you want to stay alive. And that lady over there -" She said, pointing at her, Hermione's voice carrying an inflection on the word lady that put Minerva in mind of the tone some of the Slytherins used with the Hufflepuffs or muggleborns. "- just Displaced three people with no bloody protection!"
With both adults gaping at the clearly furious girl, they almost missed the chuckle that Harry was unsuccessfully trying to stifle. "At least i'm not getting it for a change. You're lucky you're an adult." Hermione rounded on him "Like you're any better Harry. Or do I need to remind you of that time you tried to Displace home and ended up in bloody Paris?"
The boy scowled at her. "Oh yeah? How about that time you tried remotely Displacing the Polkiss's car?" "I keep telling you, that was a qualified success!" "They still haven't found the bloody thing! How does that count as 'success'? Do you know how many times Piers has tried to get me to find the puppy that was in the back seat using my 'freakish powers', huh?" And then Sarah joined in. "Wait, the Polkiss's car being stolen was you?" she started, her voice getting louder and louder "And you didn't bother to tell me? I am your Mother! How could you keep this from me?" Minerva just sighed, raised her wand and set off a canon blast charm. Again, nobody outside of the group really noticed.
"Look, can we have this discussion later please? We still need to get to the alley, after all. Miss Granger, if you could hold onto my hand." The group looked at each other with expressions generally conveying the fact that this was NOT over and then set off across the street. Outside of the Leaky Cauldron, Minerva tightened her grip on Sarah's arm and yanked her along into the dusky Tavern. They were shortly followed by the two children.
"Cool. This reminds me of the Mos Eisley Cantina." "Nowhere else will you find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy, eh?" Sarah chuckled as she looked around the dingy-looking space crowded with weirdly dressed humanoids. "Though this place could do with some music..." On cue, the two kids started humming the Cantina song while Minerva approached the counter.
"Why Minerva! Stopping by for a pint in the middle of a school day, lass?"
The witch scowled at the wrinkled old man behind the bar "Not a chance Tom. I am here to escort two children on their first visit to Diagon Alley, not drink that sludge you southern scunners call alcohol." The old man just smiled back, said smile getting larger as Minerva's accent got thicker "Of course, Professor. So just a quick nip round the back then?" "Aye." "Alright then. And remember to drop by next Sunday." "And why should I do that, then?" "Haggis" "Ah, ye're a gud man fer an Englishman, Tom. I ken that I will be aroond then." She nodded to Tom and motioned the others to follow her.
"Sorry aboot the accent. Couple of me wee lion cubs, pranksters they are, charmed me brogue ta get thicker aroond large amoonts a madjeck. Wee scunners, i'll 'ave 'em fer tea. Now pay attention, ya wee blighters, fer this is the secret ter Diagoon Alley." And saying that, the witch pulled out her wand and showed them the sequence needed to gain access to Diagon Alley. "Ya remember the sequence then, aye? Aye, right. Now on with ye!"
The portal opened up and Harry, Hermione and Sarah caught their first glimpse of Diagon Alley. Minerva took her wand and pointed it at the back of her neck while everyone else was distracted. "Finite Incantatem." Ah, that's much better. The little buggers are getting better at it, though. Maybe I should sic Moody on 'em, see if that would work as well as it did for Gideon and Fabian. Constant vigilance indeed.The children were awed by the weaves of magic strewn around, the hue of their colors unlike anything they'd come across before, with commands and functions unguessed at, beckoning them ever onwards in their hunger for knowledge.
Merchants manned oddly carved stalls outside of the main shops, their rainbow-colored display areas hocking anything from discounted newt eyes to second-hand racing brooms along a street barely wide enough in most areas to accommodate four people marching abreast. The buildings themselves were strange, a clearly medieval design clashing with construction methods and materials lost in the normal world since Roman times. No two houses looked the same, with a vivid purple multi-story block of flats sitting right alongside a neon green magical paraphernalia shop. The roofings were as eclectic as the buildings, with some using thatch, others being flat topped, others lined with tiles and some being topped by some kind of animated ooze.
The humans were, if anything, even more diversely outfitted, with rainbow robes thrown over what looked like a bright orange business suit being the norm. As the four walked along, the children and their guardian just stared around themselves in clear disbelief before grabbing a hold of themselves. It was clear that, wherever they'd ended up, logic was as foreign a concept as colour coordination.
"Well, I am glad I didn't bring Kyle along" Sarah said, a sentiment that made both children nod in agreement. His notorious inability to deal with the... strange would definitely be a hindrance here. "Hermione, hand your supply list over to Harry, would you? He needs to check the list for anything he can buy right now with you. Will that be a problem, miss McGonnagall?" The old witch just shook her head. "No, absolutely not. In fact, I think that we can buy all of his things together right now. Just don't go telling anyone else, alright?" A chorus of "Yes, professor" was heard. "Right then, off to Gringotts." She said, pointing at what looked like a small white office block towering over its neighbouring buildings.
Up close, Gringott's didn't look like much. It was a slab of white marble disguised as a building, about four stories high, with a large front entrance. There were far more impressive sights to be seen almost anywhere else in London, office towers rising far above the ground in a majestic display of glass, bronze and engineering brains. Monuments to man's romantic soul and jet-black heart were literally strewn around central London, open and bare for all to see.
By comparison, the outside of Gringott's looked rather puny. But what was inside was far more, well, magical than anything you could expect to see anywhere outside of Gringott's itself. From the Goblin guards holding their silent and menacing vigil in the lobby entirely decked out in black marble, to the strange murals depicting scenes of incredible slaughter to the piece of poetry threatening thieves with punishes unspoken, everything in the entrance lobby seemed to be designed with foreboding in mind. And then the doors to the main floor of Gringott's opened. The three new arrivals stared in awe at what lay before them.
"It's bigger on the inside!" "Like the TARDIS!" "They have a stock exchange sitting in the main hallway? How quaint..." "Look, Mom, a centaur." "Bet they have Dragons somewhere around here too." "Why would they have that?" "Have you seen the look of this place? It's practically screaming 'fire-breathing Dinosaurs ahoy'! How can there not be Dragons?" "Well, we are in the middle of London -" "- in a goblin lair. A lair full of Goblin bankers. Of course they'll have dragons. Probably use them as accountants, too." "Get off it, there's no way, I tell you!" "And I say way. Bet you an ice cream. Deal?" "Sure, i'll take you up on it." "But Moom, it's not fair if there are three of us! If I lose, i'll have to pay for two ice creams!" "Okay princess, why don't you ask Professor McGonnagall whether she wants to bet too?" "Profess-" "They do have dragons, miss Granger. I dare say you lost that bet." "Aww..." "Enough gawking now, we're next."
The Goblin teller the group walked up to didn't look up from his paperwork for a full minute before Hermione decided to get noticed. "Professor, how do I politely approach a Goblin?" "The trick is to approach the Goblin with Goblin politeness rather than human politeness, miss Granger" At the group's puzzled expression, she sighed and moved one step forward. "Watch me."
"Goblin! What is your name?" The Goblin looked up at the witch, a malevolent sneer painted across his face " Wyrmchoker. What is yours, smelly old wandwaver?" "Minerva McGonnagall. Wyrmchoker, what are the three happiest things in life?" "To use your enemy's skull as a cup, to use their spouse's bones for cutlery and their offspring's flesh as food. Wandwaver, what are the three saddest things in life?" "To be brought low in battle, to suffer the friendship of cowards and to be caught without a fight. Varak'thol!" "Varak'thol!"
The goblin somehow pulled off a friendly-looking scowl "Fine, your imperfect knowledge of the old ways means I shall deign to suffer your infuriating interruption without having you all for dinner. What do you want, fast food?" "I am here to escort these people" she waved at the three people behind her "and convert some muggle money into proper Galleons." "And who are these" the goblin's gaze travelled from person to person "people then? More of your common-born, I presume?" "The two females are Sarah and Hermione Granger" the two females snapped out of the greetings-induced trance at hearing their names "and the young man next to them is Harry Potter".
Wyrmchoker peered at the child from over the counter. He suddenly barked out a harsh laugh. "Hah! A fitting hero for a wizard indeed. To think that your kind worship a runt..." Harry just looked at the strange creature insulting him and his lineage, his upbringing, his education and his position in the world. He could tell that the Goblin was merely trying to get a rise out of him, so he kept on grinning and bearing the insults until... "Well, enough of this. Since you are here, we might as well see if you are who you say you are. Give me your hand." Harry did so, only to have his palm slashed open by a lightning-quick strike from the goblin's knife. Even as he gasped and tried to withdraw his hand, some of his blood fell onto the parchment underneath his palm, the blood being absorbed by the dried animal skin and not leaving a trace behind. Runes started to appear on the parchment, symbols so ancient and forgotten even the professor looked puzzled by them. The goblin, on the other hand, dropped the sneer and just stared at the parchment in disbelief.
"Alright, so you are Harry James Potter. For what it's worth, I knew your father, may his flesh leave a bitter after-taste in his enemy's stomach. You may look like him, but you are a runt and probably taste too game-y for me to bother challenging you for the right to the Potter estate. Therefore, Gringott's will allow you access to your trust vault until someone stoops low enough to kill you and claim your estate as spoil or until the laughably unlikely advent of your seventeenth birthday, when other vaults will become accessible to you. I will now have one of my assistants take you to your vaults and change your companions' money. GRIPHOOK! GET YOUR MANGY ARSE OVER HERE NOW!" a smaller, slightly chubbier Goblin appeared next to the counter. "You are to take these people down to vault number 687 right now, do you understand?" "Yes, Teller Wyrmchoker." "Then you are to exchange whatever money they want for Galleons, got that?" "Yes, Teller Wyrmchoker." "Then what are you slacking off for? Move it!" "Yes sir. Ladies, sir, if you would follow me please..."
"Wow, that was an awesome ride!" "Speak for yourself, young lady. I still can't figure out how I didn't vomit on the way down." "The carts are charmed to prevent customers from succumbing to motion sickness whilst on Gringott's ground." "That's... nice of them." "No, they only do it to stop people from using it as an excuse for 'dawdling'." "Okay... It's still nice" "Wow, actual vaults! I always thought only Fort Knox and some Swiss banks still did this." "Well, you wand-wavers are backward like that. Still stuck in the sixteenth century on most things." "Well, at least we have a bank that fits right in with the times. Isn't that right, Griphook?" "Indeed, old one. If it were up to us Goblins, we would be using computers out in the open instead of hiding them from the wand-wavers." "You have computers here? Can I see them, pretty please?" "I am afraid not, Madame Granger. Letting you see them would be fine, but letting any of the wand wavers near them would be a disaster." "Why is that?" "Put simply, wand magics interfere with electricity very badly." "Oh..." "Anyway, here we are. Vault 687. Here's your new key, runt."
Griphook handed the key over to Harry, who then proceeded to turn it in the lock. The door opened to reveal stacks upon stacks of Gold, Silver and Bronze coins, oftentimes touching the very ceiling of the vault.
"This... This is all mine?" He squeaked out, amazed at how wealthy he was. Minerva coughed. "Indeed, you are very wealthy Mister Potter. And remember, this is only your trust vault. There are others you will be allowed to access when you turn seventeen." Without another word, Harry picked up a bag he'd found next to the entrance and started shoving coins into it. After a while, he showed it to Minerva, who was busy chatting with Sarah and Hermione in front of the vault. "Would that be enough for me and Hermione, Professor?" The witch just looked at him and nodded her head. "Indeed, mister Potter. More than enough for today, I would say." "Okay, then let's go."
"So where to next?" Sarah asked, eyeing the increasingly bizarre architecture that should not stand up to gravity. She felt oddly insulted by the way the wizards seemed to mock the basic tenets of physics with such a casual ease. At least the Goblins were sensible, even if just a tad bloodthirsty and more than slightly insane. Minerva was alright, but the other magical people she'd come across... She looked over at her daughter, who was reading off the list.
"Madame Malkins would be best. Then Ollivander's, Eeylops and, finally, Flourish & Blott's." Sarah looked over at Professor McGonnagall, who indicated a direction for them to follow. Diagon Alley was, simply put, downright bizarre. It was clearly not meant as a shopping district, given the amount of aged and cracked cobblestones, the shops crammed into whatever narrow space they could find and the disjointed and oppressive feeling in the narrower areas.
Harry was sticking close to either Hermione or McGonnagall, seeking reassurance in the face of what was an extremely uncomfortable experience for one as unused to crowded spaces as Harry was. Minerva wished that Hagrid was with her. If anybody would be able to reassure the little tyke, Hagrid was that man. She sighed as she spotted a larger-than-usual shopfront not far from their little group.
"Here we are, Madame Malkin's. Miss Granger, can you go get yourself fitted out for Hogwarts? I think that Mister Potter will need to wait until next year if he still wants his robes to fit by the time he goes to school." The little girl's eyes widened at having missed that particular detail" and what about me, professor? I won't just stay the same size for that long, will I?" "No, Miss Granger, growth is almost guaranteed at this point. However, your clothes will be a lot easier to resize than his. The difference in enchantments between male and female clothing means that women's clothing generally favours adaptation over the men's embedded resilience charms." "Ah, okay then. See you three later, then!" the girl shouted, darting off into the Uniform fitting area.
A faint "Hogwarts, dear?" could be heard coming from there, followed by a small yet enthusiastic "Yes!" answer. Sarah just shook her head. "She really is dead set on going to Hogwarts, isn't she?" The professor just looked at her, sympathy shining in her eyes. "They grow up so fast, you know. Every time I turn around, it seems that the little children I helped Sort turned into adults while I wasn't looking. At least you know she will come back to you someday." The mother turned to the Professor. "And you? What about your children?" "Oh, never had the time. None of the men in my life stayed long enough, and I poured my life into the school. By the time I realised what had happened, it was too late for me." Sarah looked away from the expression on the older lady's face, opting to look around the British wizarding world's favourite clothing shop.
"Do they just sell robes and uniforms here? I was under the impression that this was where every wizard ended up when looking to buy clothes." "Yes, when they're looking to buy wizarding clothes, this is the place to go. But there are muggle clothing specialists, which is where most wizards will go when buying clothes for everyday wear or for interacting with muggles. The outfits you saw outside were of the most fashionable muggle styles sold in Diagon Alley this year." "Good heavens. Do they need their eyes checked? I've never seen such colors on clothing before, and I still have some of my mum's clothes from the sixties!" The two ladies laughed at that.
While the two ladies were chatting away, little Harry Potter was exploring the shop. There were some truly strange items from his ten-year-old point of view. From the few times he'd gone into clothing stores, he could tell that there were a lot of differences between the so-called magicals and normals' fashion senses. There were robes he could have sworn belonged in medieval fantasy movies, dresses that seemed to come straight out of a Star Wars movie or Battlestar Galactica episode, uniforms he'd seen illustrated in books on the Roman Army, cavalry boots... To little Harry, it was like that time the Dursleys had forgotten him at the museum and he'd snuck into the back rooms to find shelter for the night.
Everything around him was new, strange and exciting. He'd had to turn his Force Sight off when entering the Gringott's cavern, the Force weaves were so densely packed. The headache the light from such a raging Force torrent caused had almost been too much for him. Since coming back up from his vault, he would steal a quick glance through his Force connection, then keep it off for the rest of the time. He didn't want to experience such head-splitting pain ever again.
He caught a glimpse of Hermione talking to the nice seamstress as she duly recorded all the girl's measurements with a floating tape measure. Why didn't she just take measurements by using the Force? He and Hermione could do it fairly easily using their Force Sight, but then judging by the old lady's reaction when he'd hovered on the spot... He would have to figure out how to allow people to do the same with a wand. Was that why these people were so obsessed with the strange connection a wand provides to the Force?
That was the only explanation he could come up with, given how almost every single wizard he'd encountered had a smaller connection to the Force than either he or Hermione had. Even the old lady had a similar problem, with a large but atrophied set of connections outside of her main one. The few times she'd used the wand, he had seen how the wand's connection fit her main Force connection almost perfectly. It would take her years of meditation if she intended to catch up to either him or his Master in terms of control of the Force.
He shivered at the thought of having to use a proxy every time he intended to access the force. To him, it sounded almost like those people that needed a set of Iron Lungs to breathe, relying on such a fragile thing to perform something that basic. He would never complain about meditation to Hermione ever again.
But then again, he could see why wand use was so prevalent. It was apparently easier to use than a direct connection, not to mention that it was faster since it used the Force collected inside the body rather than pulling it from the surrounding Stream. Typically, Harry's internal Force build-up was far more potent and attuned to himself than that pulled straight out of the Force. The connection filtered out any impurities in the internal build-up, dumping the dangerous or unwanted elements right back into the Stream. Exclusively relying on internal stores would be far too dangerous and exhausting for a Force wielder, but a wand user could afford to do so, thanks largely to the fact that it focused the Force into a tight beam.
It also allowed for immediately replicable results that anybody with a wand and a large enough internal Force store could learn to achieve within days rather than the weeks or months some of Harry's and Hermione's more demanding disciplines took. And the way the wand itself connected to the Force made Harry a tad envious. The things a wand did without the wielder even realising it... Needless to say, both him and Hermione would be spending a long time picking up any tricks their wands would be teaching them.
But, wands also had glaringly blatant disadvantages too. People using wands manipulate the Force around them without completely understanding what was going on. Harry and Hermione often spent months figuring out and experimenting with the Force during their meditation exercises, giving them a basic understanding of how the Force reacts to them and how their actions react to the Force. It became infinitely easier with Force sight giving them the ability to visualise how the Force acted and reacted to different combinations of thoughts and emotions, but they still needed the understanding of some things happened while others didn't.
Wands were the shortcut to use. It cut down training time from months to hours, delivered a versatility and focus it would take even an early-starting Force wielder a decade to master, at the very least. A force wielder had to feel, see, understand and predict what makes the Force work in a given way. All a wand user does is point, think about what they want and wave the wand until something happens. That means that the familiarity a Force wielder acquires through their hard-won abilities with the Force they use is such that they quickly begin to master extremely complex aspects of the Force. Ask a Force wielder how come there were rivers in the Force, and you will get an incredibly detailed and well thought-out answer that you couldn't hope to understand, seeing the amount of time spent trying to uncover the very nature of the Force means having very little time to translate it for non-Force users. Ask a wand wielder where the magic comes from and you're likely to hear that magic is a gift from wizards to the rest of the world. Without the need to know 'magic', very few wand users take the time to actually understand it. The result: incredible danger when doing the simplest things.
The professor-lady's earlier Displacement was an example of this; it was the wand that had put up a weak shield between their group and the monstrous Void that hid... things. Had he not insisted on applying a stasis shield to Hermione the first time Master had tested the idea, he doubted there would have been anything left of her to find afterwards. In point of fact, that was exactly what had happened to Piers' dad's car...
And yet, apparently every wand waver could do it, and did so in complete, blissful ignorance of just how close they come to losing their mind and their body to the solid, colourful noises and loud stench of the in-between every time they do so.
Then, Harry reflected as he looked at the impressive array of hats on offer, there was the issue of aiming. Wands are incredibly good at focusing on a very narrow area, but they don't really come with any sights or anything you would expect such a precision Force tool to have. This, of course, meant that aiming where you wanted to project your Force weave was a bit difficult.
And, of course, there was the main problem; wands were too focused and single-minded. Harry and Hermione had meditated long and hard for the ability to project the Force from any point in their body outwards and to even join the projections together into exponentially more complex weaves. It was thanks to this ability that the duo were able to master flying, shielding and Force Lightning. Wands would find replicating these effects extremely difficult, largely because they relied on the interactions between Force weaves, rather than the individual direct effect of each of the weaves, to work. The best way for a wand to attempt replicating these weaves would be to use said wand to carve runic arrays that would do the same thing as Harry did and use the wand to power up the arrays when needed.
This did not even cover the fact that anybody wanting to prevent Harry from accessing the Force would have to completely atomise his body, since he had been able to establish completely new Force connections through any part of his body ever since his shape shifting powers came into play. If he focused, he could open and use three separate connections at the same time rather than having to split and channel the Force through different parts of his body. Hermione had only recently been able to emulate his shape-shifting ability to a degree, but she was catching up. She was able to open one new Force connection so far, but was optimistic that she'd be up to two soon. But someone who relied purely on a wand could only barely maintain one connection open, let alone two. So anybody looking to incapacitate a wand wielders' ability to access the force would just have to smash the long, thin, extremely fragile stick before the wand wielder could protect it.
Harry, having resolved never to entirely rely on a wand, made his way back to the Ladies, thoughts revolving around both the wizarding world's addiction to wands and the glorious headgear he had spent about ten minutes perusing while the ladies amused themselves. "Sarah, I think that Hermione's about done for measurements now." "Thanks, dear. Let's go pick her up."
They found the bushy-haired menace arguing loudly about cloak colours with the shopping assistants. "No, I will not wear pink cloaks to school! In fact, I refuse to wear pink anything! It's an unnatural and degrading colour that stereotypes-" Harry winced. Hermione was using big words in an argument. She only did that when she was pissed. "-all young girls my age. Do you all go around liking the same man as everybody else your age? Do you wear the exact same perfume as the lady living on the other side of the street? Do you watch TV at one o'clock in the morning, just like my next-door neighbor? No? Then how do you think I feel when someone tells me 'but all little girls like pink!'. So let-"
Her mother put a hand on her shoulder "Hermione, we get it! No pink, right?" Looking slightly abashed, Hermione muttered a 'yes mom' and allowed Harry to pull her away to check out the overly large collection of hats and ceremonial weapons that were laid out in a separate part of the shop. "Sorry, but she tends to get passionate about the oddest things sometimes. Got that from her father, she did."
The saleswitch smiled at her. "Don't worry, miss. We get all sorts here. Besides, we're used to it. Since muggleborns tend to come in for their birthdays to get fitted and kitted, we get our fair share of normally nice kids who decide to act like spoiled brats for the day. And between you and me" and the sales witch leaned in closer to Sarah. "Your daughter has got nothing on some of the purebloods we get in here. Even the men act like they were born with their equipment inside and that they're out shopping to forget that it's their 'time of the month'. Dainty little princesses, the lot of 'em."
Minerva snorted. "At least you never had to teach the scunners anything. You get to meet them when they're acting civilised." The trio chuckled and the saleswitch rang up the till. After paying for and receiving Hermione's new Wizarding clothes which had the mere mention of pink removed from the package, Sarah rounded up the two children while they were staring at a top hat that was a metre high ("Why would someone even want this?" "You know, i'd rather not find out") and the group set off on their merry way again.
Harry and Hermione had decided to check out the new area of the alley with their Force Sight switched on when Harry looked to his left... and froze. There was a billowing cloud of purplish-black smoke obscuring a complete section of the alleyway. New sensations he'd never heard or felt before started to assert themselves through his Force connection. There were... weird, disjointed creatures lounging up near the top of the buildings framing the Dark Force mass that was the mysterious alleyway, each one desperately trying to expose as much of themselves to the sun as possible. Their chitters and subtle scratching noises could be heard by the ten-year-old through the Force, clawing at his conscience like a pack of rabid dogs would tear at a piece of meat. He backed away from the alleyway, fearful of what would happen should he come into contact with the dark-purpleish cloud through his Force connection.
"Professor?" Minerva turned around, only to behold a very pale-looking and fearful Potter pointing across the street. "What is... that place?" His voice rose to a squeak. She looked at what his pointed finger indicated and sighed. "That, Mister Potter, is Knockturn Alley. I would advise you, mister Potter, to stay away from that Alley for as long as you possibly can. Evil things, very evil things indeed, have been known to happen to innocents wandering into that alley." The little boy just nodded. "Y-yes, professor. I'll make sure of it. Let's just go." He said, pulling a sick-looking Hermione along with him.
"Did you see that? I've never felt anything like it! What happened in there?" The girl stage-whispered to Harry. "Evil things, she said. The professor told me to stay away from there for as long as possible." "No need to tell me twice. Those... creatures." She shuddered and said no more, opting to catch up with her mother, who was busily gawking at a never-ending tea dispenser on sale a few shops away.
Soon enough, the group were entering Ollivander's wand shop.
AFTERMATH: The Goblins (because it sounded cool at the time)
Deep under even the lowest of vaults, deeper even than the cities and holding pens that made up the Goblin nation, a cavernous amphitheatre played host to the hundred elders, the council of the Goblin Nation's branch of Greater Brittania. The hundred heads of various Goblin clans, as well as uncounted thousands of their retainers, filled the massive Colosseum-type structure, impatient and nervous in their wait for this extraordinary meeting to begin.
The roar was deafening as yet another fight broke out between the senior Gringott's district manager of Ireland and the senior Gringott's branch manager of Northern Ireland. The glint of fire and sword flashed across the cavern as the two war veterans fought and parried each other's efforts to kill their neighbour, which doubles as the word for 'mortal enemy' in Gobbledegook. The iridescent moss and magical torches lining the cavern helped the District Lord of Greater Cymru estimate the odds of the battle and preside between bets laid for or against either combattant. No matter what happened, many crime slaves and pack beasts would change hands come morning. Finally, the Ogre of Belfast managed to graze the Dublin Droughtmaker's shoulder with his poisoned blade, causing the dying Goblin to rush and impale the other through the eye before the poisoner could claim his head in battle.
The outcome of the duel was a victory to the Irish Goblins, with the Northern Irish Goblins having to issue a Battle Challenge by the end of the week or suffer watching their spouses become Dragon food. The goblin clans of Ireland would be united come Halloween, either way.
As the crowd calmed down and paid their bets, a door opened in the highest stall available. Every Goblin present clambered to their feet, straightening whatever clothing or armor they chose to wear for the occasion. Not a peep was to be heard in the massive, old-fashioned stadium. A lone figure, taller than the average Goblin, appeared on the stall's balcony,with hands outspread. He was dressed in an impeccable pinstripe suit, the only indication of his rank being the wreath of white laurels, stained with the blood of his predecessor, circling his head. King Ragnok the Third, slayer of Lord Cracknut the Elderly, Rustyknife the vengeful and Silverado Savings & Loan stood before his assembled stakeholders, the most powerful political force in the European division of the Goblin Nation.
"Brother Goblins! Welcome to the Royal Amphitheatre for this extraordinary session of the Goblin Nation's Branch of Great Britannia. I, King Ragnok, hereby call this session to order!"
A massive roar of greeting and relief rose from the crowd as the event they'd waited for the past hour finally began.
"First, I bring news from Wyrmchoker, humble teller at the Diagon Alley branch of Gringotts. Harry Potter has been met by Goblins!" A muted cry went out from the crowd, as some of the more isolated Goblins had their memories about the Hero of Wizarding Britain refreshed. "And he is as all wand-wavers are; weak!" A roar met the pronouncement. "Meek!" another cry of anger rose from the crowd. "And ignorant!" The din rose to deafening levels. "And yet-" the din died. "there is hope for the yound wand-waver. He has worthy companions at his side." Ragnok gave the crowd a razor grin. "And is already fiercely protective of his future mate. But best of all, we now know how he survived that vrel'kahush Voldemort." The grin widened at the angry hisses following the name. "His mother, his own mother, cursed him with a Carrick Tor shield. He is immune to death!" A shocked gasp ran through the crowd. "That's right, my brothers and sisters. The prophecy is valid! The Cursed Walker walks among us! And he has found his Navigator of The Eternal Void already!" The response was immediate.
"VA-RAK-THOL! VA-RAK-THOL! VA-RAK-THOL! VA-RAK-THOL!" "SILENCE!" The crowd stopped their chanting. "As you all know, there is now much to prepare. The heavens could fall to earth at any time, and only the Cursed Walker and his Navigator can save us now! We must give them a reason to take us with them when they leave this plane, as prescribed by the elder Seers. Eternal survival of the Goblin Race is our reward, and extinction our failure! Are you with me?" The crowd responded with a resounding "YES!" "Are you with the Walker?" "YES!" "Then we must work together! We help them bring the Dark One down when the time comes, we give them the help they need to set the plan in motion. Then we follow them wherever they go. Are you still with me?" "YES!" And Ragnok clapped his hands together "Then, on the bones of our ancestors, SO MOTE IT BE!" The massive wave of sound and golden glow following the pronouncement was like a flashbang to the King.
"SILENCE! Now that we have finalised the Oath of Prophecy, time to turn to tonight's entertainment. Bring in the prisoner!"
In the pit of the Amphitheatre, a small door at the base of the south wall opened. In walked, head held high, a Goblin bearing a diminished stature and an impressive collection of sores and bruises. On his left and right, two lightly armoured guards had their spears pointed at the Goblin's stomach, marching in lockstep with the prisoner. He turned towards the royal balconies, an expressionless mask on his face. "Well met, Usurper Ragnok!"
The King scowled at the dot in the fighting pit, no doubt imagining the insufferably smug expression prison seemed to have grafted onto the disgraced Goblin's face. "You will be silent before your king, Gridlick The Rebel! Too many times have I had to suffer your presence already. Tonight you shall die for your crimes. For Inciting Rebellion! For Treason! For Theft Of Position! For Murder! I sentence you to the VARAK!" The roar following the sentence and the clamoring of Varak'thol filled the cavern.
"SILENCE! But, since I am a generous and forgiving monarch, I shall allow you the honor of defending yourself. Guards, hand a dagger to the prisoner and withdraw!" The Goblin on the left pulled a small dagger from a shoulder scabbard and threw it to the ground in front of the prisoner. When Gridlick bent to pick it up, both guards kicked him in the buttocks and ran for the entrance while it was still open.
The prisoner picked up the dagger and stood up, the cruel laughter of his lifelong enemies still ringing in his ears. "Gridlick the Rebel, are you prepared to meet your fate?" "I am, you cowardly fool! I shall show you how a true Goblin dies, Ragnok. May you die on your knees, like your idiot of a father did when I ran him through with the Sword Of Rome!" Gridlick drank in the shocked hush of the crowd, startled at the Rebel's audacious boast about the previous King, Grendelslayer The Great, Master of Investors. Ragnok would be well within his rights to have a wizard flay the Goblin alive for his disrespect, yet all knew it was now too late. The lone voice of the king broke the silence "Very well, Gridlick. May you prove just how noble a death a traitorous bastard such as yourself can provide. OPEN THE GATES!"
Gridlick turned towards the massive set of porticullis gates slowly rising upwards, ever upwards. Nothing but darkness greeted his sight, even as the starved prisoner crept nearer the seemingly empty chasm on the other side of said gates. Clutching his dagger, he shouted. "VARAK! I am Gridlick, of clan Yelnick, seventh heir to the Sunborn and First among Equals of the Siberian commissariat! Face me, as I would face you."
A sudden bass roar greeted this pronouncement, followed by the hollow boom of a truly enormous mass moving ponderously towards the opening. The Varak, worshipped as a God by the Deep Goblins, is an albino dragon a hundred metres long, with snow-white hide and deep black eyes. It dwells in caverns a kilometre underground, digging its way through the earth's crust with its diamond-hard claws and massive hinged jaw. Its flame of black light is said to have inspired the idea of punishment in the afterlife amongst the humans, so horrific the results could be. And, out of the inky blackness, a completely white face framed by Onyx eyes and black smoke seemed to fill the arena. Gridlick charged.
The Varak looked at the small creature whose magic had forced it to look the creature's way and was now running towards the Varak's face, yelling defiance all the way. It breathed once upon the creature, annoyed at having its meal interrupted over a challenge by so puny a creature, and withdrew. Gridlick fell to the ground in agony as his skin dissolved under the heat of hellfire, refusing to scream until he knew no more. "Gridlick the Rebel is no more! His sentence has been completed! May he be remembered for dying like he said he would; a true Goblin to the end."
The crowd roared one last time, laughing in remembrance of the fool who'd defied the Goblin Nation unto death and toasting his impressive departure. Strong enemies are worthier of remembrance than weak allies are, after all. And, as far as Ragnok was concerned, Harry Potter and Hermione Granger would have a long way to go before proving themselves to him either way. For friend or Enemy, fate is not the responsibility of the weak. Ragnok would follow a strong Walker, but not a fool.