A/N: Chapter 17 didn't get moved to our "Posted" folder last week, so, thinking it was the next to be posted, I went in and made some changes that I rather liked. They don't make any enormous difference to the story, but you may want to go back and re-read Chapter 17, as I've updated it to include my changes.

I met Hagrid in the courtyard the next morning. It was slightly overcast, and a little chilly. For Scotland though, it was a grand morning. No cold rain after all!

I made a conscious decision to go Muggle. I was wearing my black shirt, pants, socks and combat boots, all cleaned and mended compliments of Pippy. The little guy was incredibly useful. The Man Scythe was strapped across my back for easy access. During the night, before Hermione appeared at my door again, I'd considered bringing another weapon or two on the Gringotts field trip, but then...well...Hermione arrived and most of my higher cognitive functions took a vacation.

"Good morning, Frank!" Hagrid called out. "Are yeh ready for yer first trip ta Diagon Alley?"

"I suppose so. How are we going to get there?"

I looked up at the enormous man, it was all you could do unless you wanted to eyeball his belt buckle. Somewhere behind that beard, Hagrid might be smiling, but it was equally likely that an entire tribe of magical creatures had set up a sophisticated society within the hair.

"Dumbledore suggested a Portkey, ta keep things simple. I'd wanted ta take yeh for a ride on my motorbike, but he thought it might be a bi' much after breakfast."

"You won't hear me arguing." The thought of clinging to Hagrid's back, with my ass streaming in the air, as we rocketed through the woods, didn't fill me with confidence. "What do I do?"

"Jus' hold my coat," Captain Gigantic rumbled, "and we'll go. Oh, remember, the more polite yeh are to a Goblin, the more polite he'll be to yeh."

I put my hand on the unfamiliar leather and tried to speak.

"Gob…"

The Portkey turned the universe inside out.

"...lins?" Thankfully this time I didn't suffer as badly as the last Portkey. I managed to stay standing, and it only took 53 seconds for my head to stop spinning. Perhaps it was because I was only travelling through space.

"Aye, Goblins. They run Gringotts, y'see. Come on. It's this way."

We were standing in what must be Diagon Alley, a frightful menagerie, really. There were smells, street vendors, bizarre things for sale—looked like a "dare you to eat it" reality TV show—and everyone in robes.

When I looked beyond street level, I knew for a fact that I wasn't in someone's dream version of an exotic street market. No one who hadn't been here could imagine this. The buildings made me wince. Their owners created acid-trip architectural hallucinations, often sporting paint colors that only Tim Burton would groove on.

"You remind me of the babe," I whispered as they walked by an Escher-like staircase that defied perspective. "What babe? The babe with the power of voodoo."

"What'd ya say, Frank?" Hagrid bellowed.

"Nothing! Just keep going. I don't want the houses to eat me alive."

Everyone cleared the way for Hagrid, and there were quite a few people around. Monday morning, going to work, and so on, I guessed. Many of those individuals expected to close up the area behind Hagrid as he passed by, but they got one look at me (hidden by the groundskeeper's bulk) and took several steps back.

I could hear the whispers.

"He has a black arm!"

"The bodyguard."

"The Immune Muggle!"

"The Muggle demon!"

"The Black-Armed Man."

"The Immune Muggle."

Sounds like I'm making a name for myself already.

One of these days, I'll have a word or two with the reporters at the Daily Prophet. Their little Karnak article made me wince.

-**HPDEB**-

Hagrid noticed that his companion was aware of the talk. "Don' let it worry yeh. They did the same thing...Well, they do the same thing every time Harry is about. He's a legend, and yer a legend attached to a legend. Goin' ta generate a bi' o' conversation."

"Better than offers of marriage," Frank sighed.

"Hahahaha! Tha's a grand one!"

Hagrid reached around and pulled Frank up beside him. They'd stopped in front of a door. Like so many of the things he'd seen since arriving at Hogwarts, the building in front of him screamed "Venerable British Institution: We Still Wear Bowler Hats and Bowties."

They opened the doors and went inside. Everything stopped. Or rather, all the clients stopped. The Goblin bank tellers started paying very close attention.

"Oh, go about yer business!" Hagrid rumbled. "Everyone's got ta visi' a bank sometime."

-**HPDEB**-

I could hardly believe what I was seeing. I had a distinct desire to rub my eyes and pinch myself. There were angry-looking midgets at the desks. They had bat-like ears, beak noses, and beady eyes. One of them smiled, or grimaced, hard to tell. All his teeth had been filed to points.

"Hagrid, no one would ever try to rob these people."

"Well, summat did in August o' '91. Din' get caught. Made the Goblins angry summat fierce."

A goblin approached us, and adjusted his bow tie. "Rubeus Hagrid, and the infamous Frank Stewart, The Immune Muggle. I am Slothbaugh. How may we be of service today?"

"Well, Master Slothbaugh, we have a matter o' right o' conquest. I also suspect that Mister Stewart here would like ta open an account."

The little monster rubbed his hands together. "One doesn't see conquest issues very often these days. How refreshing! Come with me to my desk."

We followed Slothbaugh to an office with a low desk. Hagrid stood. I sat.

"To complete the paperwork," the banker said, "I will need the wand and the head of the deceased."

Hagrid pulled the bag out of his coat and dropped it on the desk.

Slothbaugh opened it, visibly excited.

The horrible little being sighed when he pulled out the head.

"Gregor Karnak. Goodness me. That's a face I've not seen in many years." Slothbaugh turned the head this way and that, even upside down to peer at the stump. "Sir, this is a sublime decapitation. Truly. So very clean."

I tried to smile but it didn't quite come together properly. Goblins, it seemed, bothered me immensely. Perhaps the bloodlust?

"Ah, I see the wand. Yes, this is it. You see, Mister Stewart, I have an encyclopedic knowledge of wands. I can match Ollivander from his first sale until the present day."

"He's not kiddin' this one," Hagrid said, indicating the seated Goblin. "I watched him and Ollivander arguin' one night. Amazin' thing it was."

"Oh," I breathed, "astounding." The magical community had quite odd ideas about entertainment.

Slothbaugh rang an oddly shaped bell, and spoke to the Goblin who appeared in a harsh, guttural language, then busied himself with the drawers in his desk until he found the proper papers. Gregor's head sat on the desk and seemed to regard me with pure hatred. Hagrid must have noticed, as he turned it to face in another direction.

The second Goblin returned shortly and handed Slothbaugh a folder with a bow.

"Here we are! Gregor Karnak was head of house Karnak, he had one wife whom he divorced, and two children from that union. No other surviving relations." Slothbaugh smiled unpleasantly. "The divorce settlement was a lump sum, so you owe her and her children nothing. His ancestral estate and remaining financial resources now belong to you." He pushed a few sheets of parchment and a quill pen at me. "Sign here, Lord Karnak. Oh, and there is a five thousand galleon price on his head as well."

I signed the papers in a daze, scratching it slightly with the quill, and barely noticed when a bloody thumbprint was required to cap the deal. I just sliced my left thumb with my right index finger and plopped it down on the parchment.

"So, the black arm changes shape," Slothbaugh whispered. "If you ever want to sell it, I would be honored to make an offer."

That snapped me back to attention. "It doesn't come off, but I appreciate the compliment, Sir."

"Very well. I will have an associate escort you to the Karnak vault, and I will attend to settling ownership issues while you are occupied."

"You're very gracious, and I appreciate your attention to the details." I bowed from the neck, which seemed to please the banker greatly.

Slothbaugh rang a different oddly shaped bell, then slipped away, and within minutes, another awful Goblin came to fetch us.

"Would you come this way Lord Karnak. Vault 903 awaits your inspection."

I didn't know what to expect, but a horrible roller coaster ride through dank caverns is something I never would have imagined. The entire ride made me want to toss my breakfast. Did the Goblins invent this just to make the magicals uneasy? Hagrid didn't seem to enjoy the ride, either.

When I arrived at the massive iron door, our ghastly concierge opened it for us, then handed me the key. "Working keys cannot be created outside of Gringotts. Should you ever lose this key, come to Gringotts immediately. The inherent magic in the key allows us to recall it for you with a drop of blood."

I nodded to show I had heard, then stepped inside, and tried not to stare. There were piles of gold coins, antique furniture, what appeared to be gold candlesticks and vases, and some hideous family portraits.

"His fortune was drastically reduced by the parting with his wife," the nameless goblin explained. "However, our records indicate that twenty thousand Galleons remain, and the accumulated value of everything (aside from the portraits) is another fifteen. There are likely some wizarding items as well, but the records on those were purposely kept vague by the previous Lord Karnak."

"Frank, what were that noise? Did you gulp loudly?" Hagrid asked.

"Yes."

"What funds would Lord Karnak like to withdraw from the account today?"

"Hagrid, how much do I need to live comfortably for a month or so?" This really was making me realize how little I knew about magical society.

"Yeh could live like a king with five hundred, give or take. Me? I get by on much less."

Something in my mind kicked into high gear. I stood up straighter, and looked down at the bank's representative, making sure not to appear pompous. I was fairly certain the smile on my face was worthy of a Goblin.

"Please have two thousand Galleons waiting for me when we arrive upstairs. Would you be able to liquidate the furniture and similar items?"

"Yes. We charge fifteen percent of the proceeds."

"Fifteen percent? Make it ten. I have a feeling you'll still be making quite the profit."

The Goblin smiled at me. "I can perhaps do thirteen percent."

I sidled up to him, and leaned down. "Does it serve you best to take gratuities here, or would you prefer something more official?"

"It matters not, Lord Karnak. A Goblin's overall wealth increases his standing in our society. How said wealth was obtained makes no difference." He smiled.

I picked up a solid gold candlestick and held it out to him. "I know the value of gold right now. Make it ten."

The smile got wider. "Very well, Lord Karnak. Ten it is." And his voice was kinder.

I waved my hand imperiously and told the financial monster to "Make it so."

Then I realized that I had another pertinent question

"And can you exchange Galleons to pounds?"

"Indeed, Lord Karnak, the current rate is 15 pounds to one Galleon."

I nodded and then I strode back to the nausea inducing tram.

-**HPDEB**-

"Either he adjusts quickly or he's so far out of his element that he has no idea what to do."

"Mister Goblin, I'd wager it's the second," Hagrid whispered.

-**HPDEB**-

I turned around, and called out to the evil little banking turd, "Can Gringotts provide Muggle-style identification materials? Drivers license? Birth certificate? Passport?"

"Yes, we are often called upon to provide this service. The bank charges seventy galleons for such a thing."

Hagrid hissed. "Tha's highway robbery, tha' is!"

The Goblin shrugged. "It is a premium service, Mister Hagrid."

I walked back to the little Goblin, my mind was cranking away at full speed.

"What is your name, Mr. Goblin?"

"I am Griphook."

"Very well, Griphook. Premium service or not, seventy Galleons seems incredibly high. If I can live like a king on 500, I'm thinking this should cost no more than 10."

"You must keep in mind, Lord Karnak, that these are all forgeries that must be integrated into the Muggle systems. I can perhaps see my way to 60 Galleons."

I didn't realize they were that legit. "50 Galleons."

"55."

"Acceptable. How good is your memory, Griphook?" I asked.

"Perfect."

"Grand. Now remember this, and produce the identification materials based on the following information. Ready?"

"Please go on."

I dropped a ton of information, down to my fake birth weight, on Griphook's head. He didn't even take notes, and I didn't need to fake being impressed. After I finished, he explained that the work would be completed within the hour if I cared to wait. It appeared that they offered tea, biscuits and such for their preferred customers.

"That would be lovely. Your service is superb, and I am grateful for your assistance. I'd also like a complete inventory of my vault. None of this "keeping it vague" silliness."

"Gladly, Lord Karnak. I must inform you that any items classified as "Dark" by the Ministry of Magic must be reported, and will likely be confiscated."

"And how much will it cost me to be notified before such items are reported?"

"You are quite astute, Lord Karnak. I suppose, seeing as you have claimed this vault, it would only make sense to inform you of everything in it before alerting any necessary authorities. We will be required to make our report within ten days, but if the items were no longer in the vault, we would not need to report it."

"And would you know of a market for such items should any be found?"

"Gringotts knows all markets."

"Excellent. Griphook, I offer you my trust. Select any artifact from the vault as an additional reward for excellent service. I place a high value on being treated well."

"Thank you, Lord Karnak." He bowed to me, then chose a silly little ring. It didn't even have a gem.

"Are you quite certain?"

"Indeed. This is Goblin forged gold and platinum. Although wizards would never know, it was made by one of the best smiths known to Goblin-kind."

"Very well." Something occurred to me, and I had to ask. "Griphook, does Goblin culture place great value upon reclaiming items made by great craftspeople?"

For a moment, Griphook seemed very surprised, almost shocked.

"It is our belief that those who acquire our works of art rent them, rather than possess for eternity. We would, if we were able, reacquire all that was ever 'purchased' and subsequently inherited by humans."

I nodded, because I understood that notion, and I saw a tangible way to create social credibility with the Goblins...that is, if having someone share their point of view had any meaning.

Shortly after I finished that thought, we boarded the nasty pod, and I scooted sideways to allow my bulky companion a seat.

"Why didya get all the Muggle things?" Hagrid asked me once we were back on solid ground.

"Because burp, at some point, I'll need to visit the real world...excuse me burp...the Muggle world. I don't carry identification where I come from, and I can't be a mystery man if something happens in 1996. This is part of a very important time in Muggle history involving how information is stored and used."

We were led back to Slothbaugh's office and I was presented with all of the official papers relating to the right of conquest, Karnak's wand, as well as a lordship ring and a key to the manor. I decided not to wear the ring, but I kept it with me, as it also served as a portkey to the manor.

"Lord Karnak, you will also need a Floo address for your home, unless you would like to keep the current one" Slothbaugh held up a gnarled finger. "We can record a new one here, in complete security, so that none but your chosen intimates may arrive in this manner. We will be happy to register it with the Ministry of Magic for a nominal fee of two galleons."

"Floo?" I looked around at Griphook, Hagrid, and the senior banker. "I have no idea what that is."

"Lord Karnak has not been well informed by his hosts." Griphook coughed. "Floo is a magical means of travel. One throws floo powder into a fireplace, utters the address of his chosen destination, steps in, and emerges through a fireplace at the destination."

I didn't like the sound of that and promptly said so.

"Oh, lad, it's completely safe! Quite the convenience, if you ask me. No' tha' I can use it much at my size. But even Dumbledore's got an address for his office fireplace." Hagrid said with a reassuring pat on my shoulder.

"Fine, fine. What do I do to make this happen?" You can imagine how excited this made me.

My banker of dubious intent pulled a tiny bag out of his frock coat and told me to whisper my chosen word or phrase into it. I took the bag from him, all the while staring at him like he was the Mad Hatter.

I put my lips to the bag and said, "Donne House," and handed it back to him.

"Excellent, Lord Karnak! If you will give us a little time, we will prepare everything you will need to enjoy your new status."

The Goblin strolled away, leaving Hagrid and me to avail ourselves of tea and shortbread.

"Damn it. I need a massage." I grumbled to no one in particular.

Hagrid cracked his knuckles. "D'yeh prefer Swedish or sumpin' else?"

"I appreciate the thought," I smiled despite my abject terror of a gigantic masseuse, "but I'll be okay."

An hour and thirty minutes later, I had a complimentary bottomless bag—with a featherweight charm—packed with galleons, the papers I'd been given, and falsified documents. The damned thing weighed nothing at all.

"Big guy, I owe you a meal and a night full of beer for all your help," I said to Hagrid, once we were outside the bank. "Could I prevail on you for a little bit more time? I need clothes."

"Oh, Dumbledore specifically tol' me ta help yeh shop for robes. Maybe basic black."

I nodded, not sure why the Big Dore would want that. I chalked it up to his judgement.

"By the by, Frank," the enormous fellow added, "thank yeh for takin' care o' the boy. I've known him since he were a baby, and I been worried, no lie."

Hearing Hagrid say that made me smile.

"You're welcome."

-**HPDEB**-

Shopping took a bit longer than they expected.

"I haven't bought clothes for years," said Frank, "and I never liked doing it then."

"Times do change yeh know." Hagrid shrugged, dislodging the pigeons on his shoulders. "Yeh do look quite flash in them robes."

Hagrid's companion looked down at himself through the round-rim sunglasses he'd purchased.

"I suppose. This is what I get for being a fan of 'The Matrix'."

"Wha's that?"

"Oh, a movie that hasn't been made yet. The good guy wears a black outfit that looks something like this." Frank pointed out the length of the over-robe and the fitted sleeves.

"I've never seen one 'o them. Heard quite a bit from James and Lily, Harry's parents, and Hermione, but never seen one."

Frank looked up at him. "My friend, this is a deficit that you and I will rectify. Say, are you hungry? I could murder some fish and chips."

"Oh definit'ly could do tha' meself. The Leaky Cauldron is just up the way, a fine slab o' cod and a nice pint of 80 Shilling."

"Hagrid, did you say 80 Shilling?" Frank grinned like a shark.

"Yeh."

"Lead on MacDuff, and damned be he who first cries 'Hold! Enough!'," Frank pointed triumphantly to the skies. "And I'm paying. No argument."

"No, Lord Karnak! Perish the thought!" The huge man laughed, and escorted Hogwarts' guest to his favorite pub.