I do not own Harry Potter, the Wizarding World, or any canon characters.

A Taste of Magic

54th Course – Reputation

It had been the best summer of Harry's life and it was slowly and sadly coming to an end. Harry genuinely could not think of a time where he had been this happy and fulfilled. He was still quite busy, just as if not more so when he was responsible for three daily meals and tea and numerous dinner parties and social events. He had managed to find a groove working for Hog's Head Inn and Gringotts Kitchen Main One. He had managed to move into a new home that still needed a fair amount of work. He had managed to keep in touch with friends and build relationships with a brand-new family.

He loved every moment, exhausting or not.

Diglin, Ragnok, Flitwick, and the Dumbledores all insisted that Harry take the last two weeks of summer off before the start of his fourth year and he had reluctantly agreed to, though he managed to negotiate some more time at Hog's Head. Ariana had laughed and said he was always welcome, just not always welcomed to work there. An important distinction.

So it was with some confusion when Harry was asked to return to Gringotts after his last day. The day prior had been especially busy. He was a regular on the line now and Gringotts had many international visitors and they had filled the lunchroom from the beginning of the lunch break to the very end. Harry had left the most exhausted he had ever been, and satisfied with his performance.

It was with a bit of trepidation that he returned the next day, nervous that he did something wrong, curious as to why he was there. When he entered the kitchen, he was greeted by the Crew and Diglin. "Hi everyone," he said happily.

The Crew smiled and greeted him warmly as well. After his birthday, they treated him as one of them. They still teased him but it was done kindly. They still expected his best at all times, holding him to the standards they held themselves. But they were warmer to him, more open. In fact, a potentially nasty incident almost happened when some visitors from a foreign branch of the bank made rude and disgusting remarks about Harry loudly, thinking that none would defend him.

Flynt and Amythyst had gone over the front counter with their knives and the guards had to be called in. Much to Harry's surprise, more than a few of the other workers of Gringotts, ones that did not work in the kitchen, had defended him as well. Doran, Ragnok's personal assistant, had been especially angry along with the Crew and Diglin and the foreign visitors had been roughed up some, physically and verbally.

Harry had been embarrassed and yet felt very touched when it happened.

"Take a seat," Diglin said, and waited for Harry to sit down. "Normally, when someone leaves Gringotts, at least amicably, there's a bit of a to do but we were really busy yesterday."

"Oh I know, I wasn't expecting anything," Harry said honestly. "I've been grateful for the opportunity. I learned a lot."

"Good," Diglin said, looking pleased. "You've been a good worker and a fine cook." Harry preened at that. Diglin was always plain in his praise, but you always knew he meant what he said. The head chef of Gringotts steepled his fingers. "Remember that first day, when I asked what you knew of goblins?"

"Yes Chef." Harry smiled wryly. "It wasn't much."

The Crew laughed at that and Diglin smiled. "Well, let me ask you again. What do you know of goblins, now?"

"I know goblins are hard workers," Harry said easily. "Most families are part of clans and a lot of clans are clustered around a common trade but not always. You like strong flavors, spices and chilis, and have very lax rules about drinking and age." He smiled when they laughed more at that. "A lot of people say goblins are scary for lots of reasons, but I've never been scared of any of you. Intimidated, definitely, but not scared."

Diglin smiled even wider. "Good. That's good. You've touched on something that's really important for goblins. Reputation. Your words, your actions, your history and your clan's history, they all matter. People will hear about your reputation before they meet you, and that can be a good thing, or a bad thing."

He looked at Harry directly. "When Flitwick and Ragnok came to me, asking me if I'd mentor a childling, I was hesitant. When I heard he was a human, I was very very hesitant. When I heard it was you, I was…curious. Flitwick told me your history and your reputation and I decided to give you a shot, something many asked me why.

"Some thought I was doing them some grand favor and well, yeah I was. I run a tight ship here and don't want anything to jeopardize my job and my craft. Others said I did it because I'm scared of them and I'm not. I have a very healthy respect for my wife however, who's Ragnok's sister and Flitwick's cousin."

"You're afraid of her, Chef," Amythyst said cheekily.

"Well yeah, you've met her. Most people are if they have any sense," Diglin said flatly and everyone laughed at that. "Anyways, I swore to treat you like I would any other prospective worker in the kitchens. I might've been a little harder on you at first, wanting to test the mettle of your metal. And I have been surprised that your metal is sound."

He leaned back. "I really shouldn't have been though. You see, I have it on good authority that Potters are good people."

"Really?" Harry asked, his eyes wide. "You met my father?"

"No. But I have records of my grandfather who was friendly with your Second Great-Grandfather." Diglin smiled sadly when he saw Harry's eyes light up, at how the boy leaned in to hear more. "Your second great-grandfather, William Potter, did a lot of business with my family. My grandfather, Anbin, was a blacksmith of note, one of the best. Anbin was notoriously not fond of humans but he liked, or tolerated, William because William was respectful. That he didn't take any liberties like most humans and magical do."

Diglin's eyes lost focus as he looked past Harry and into the past. "William asked Anbin to make him a blade, a knife that he could use as a last resort. It was a common thing back then, to arm yourself with more than just your wand. William wanted something that he could depend on, to defend himself and his family. Anbin did just that, made him a fine blade. Worked hard on it. No decorations save for one. It was a blade made for one thing and one thing only, to fight."

The faintest smile grew on Diglin's lips. "He swore to William that the blade wouldn't fail him." The smile died. "Years later, William's widow, Melodia, came to Gringotts carrying a box. It was William's knife, broken. William went to war to spare his son the duty, to do his duty to his country and family, and came back with the only kind of honor the dead can have."

Harry blinked at that, feeling intense longing and pain. The Crew bowed their heads briefly and Diglin coughed. "Anbin was distraught, thinking that it was his fault that the blade broke and William died. Melodia didn't blame him. She thanked him actually. She was told of William's final moments, how he stood alone against many of the enemy, wand in one hand and blade in the other. He held them back so his friends could evacuate the wounded. When the counter came back from, they found him still standing, holding a broken wand in one hand and a broken knife in the other. He was dead, but so was every other bastard that was around him. They had to dig the other half of the knife out of the one that died last at his feet."

Diglin sipped from a bottle. "Goblin tradition is that when an item is made for another, the item does not belong to them. It is only held by the person for the length of their life, and it should be returned. Unfortunately, that's a point of contention between goblins and other races. A lot of magicals choose to ignore that. William asked Melodia to honor that tradition and she did it willingly. She thanked Anbin for helping her husband to the end."

"Wow," Harry breathed softly.

"Anbin saw it as his only failure," Diglin continued. "He thought that William would have lived if the blade never broke. He wanted to reforge it and give it back to Melodia but she didn't want it. Grandfather tried to throw it away many times, but never did. He thought William would never forgive him. He finally left it as it was in the case in his vault and never touched it again."

He wiped his eyes. "I was blessed with a lot of his things when he passed. I read his many journals and he wrote that he died with few regrets, but the blade that broke was one of them. Towards the end he was looking forward to seeing William again, to apologize in spirit." He snorted wetly. "He said that it was just his luck that he liked one human and the human died before him."

Diglin reached down beside him and brought up a slim flat case. It was made from metal and stone and a large latch in the front held it shut. He put it in front of him and rested his hands on it. "After your first few weeks, I went looking for this. It took some time but I found it and for a while, I worked at the forge after work and on days off."

He pushed it to Harry. "Open it."

With shaking hands, Harry did. When he opened the case, he gasped. Within sat a beautiful chef's knife. It gleamed in the lantern light, sitting on a bed of blue velvet. The blade was burnished steel, almost silver in shine and brightness. The handle was black, small rivets bonding the wood to the metal. A thin cap of metal covered the butt, a symbol was etched there and at the base of the blade above the bolster. A smaller paring knife sat below it, made in exactly the same way and shape only smaller.

"Goblin steel," Diglin said and the Crew looked at it with clear admiration. "Hand forged from beginning to end. Eight inches from the tip to the tang with an additional cap over the butt. Flared tip, with a steel bolster for balance. The handle is riveted on with treated iron wood, grown and mined from the deepest places in the world. That symbol on the cap is my family's symbol, hammer and anvil." He pointed at a tiny symbol on the sides of the blade. "That was the mark etched and engraved by Anbin for William, the Potter Family Crest."

Harry stared at the stylized P, emblazoned on a shield. He felt his mouth open and close, no words coming forth.

"The broken shards I reforged into the paring knife," Diglin said softly. "But the body of the chef knife was made by my Grandfather for your Second Great-Grandfather. I reforged the broken parts, smoothed it out, remade the handle, and beat it for as long as I could, as much as the metal could tolerate."

His smile was heavy and freeing all in one. "When I finished, I felt Anbin's touch on my shoulder and in my hammer. I think he's glad, wherever he is."

He sipped again to clear his throat. "Now some might question if it was wise to allow a knife that was made to spill blood to be used for the kitchen. But in a way, what we do is not so dissimilar. We take life to sustain life. The food we eat, the meat we eat, were once living beings as well. It is our duty to use the gifts responsibly, and remember that life is about giving and taking."

He smiled wryly. "That said, I spent a long time purifying it in every way I knew and cleaned it in every single possible way. And from what I've read of William, I think he would have appreciated the idea of it and liked that a descendant of his is using something once used in violence, is being used in peace instead."

His eyes met Harry's. "Go on then. Pick it up."

Harry did so slowly. The knife felt right to him as soon as he picked it up. His hands wrapped around the handle snugly and the blade was solid in his hand. The balance was perfect and no matter where he gripped it, the knife felt light but with a solid weight of memory and time and emotion. He looked at the symbol, drinking in the details. "Thank you, Chef," he said at last, his voice a whisper.

"That knife is yours, in perpetuity," Diglin said quietly. "It belongs to you and it is your right to gift it to your blood or your family."

"Thank you," Harry said, awed. "I swear I will always use it gratefully and always do my best with it."

"Good." Diglin nodded slowly. "Well, what are you waiting for?"

"Chef?"

Diglin nodded to the kitchen at large. "Go on, cook with it. That's a chef knife now, your chef knife. Show me what you learned and prove to me that you deserve to own that blade."

Harry nodded. "Yes Chef," he said, his voice solid. He wrapped the dark blue bandanna around his head and walked to the back prep area with his knife in hand.

"If only every magical is as grateful as that," Flynt said softly. "We'd have a lot better relations with them."

"He's one of a kind," Amythyst said.

"He is," Diglin said sincerely.

"Thank you for sharing the story and the moment with us," Hacker said. "It was an honor to hear more of Master Smith Anbin like that."

"He's probably really mad at me sharing it to be honest," Diglin snorted, making the others chuckle. "He did enjoy his infallible reputation. Still, I figure he might forgive me, eventually. He had a temper for sure and carried a grudge."

"My father told me stories," Hacker laughed.

"And Anbin actually liked him," Diglin chuckled.

-0-

Harry looked at the mountain of ingredients that the Crew had prepared for him. They were laid out on the main table and he looked at them carefully, wondering what to make. He was still a little scatterbrained from the story. Hearing a story about his ancestors, holding the knife in his hand, filled him with so many complicated feelings.

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly and nodded. Deciding on what to do.

In no time at all, pots bubbled and steamed, ingredients were set up and were being broken down. A smile started to grow on Harry's lips as he worked. He had used many knives up to this point. The Dursley's had gotten some very fancy ones from some big-name personality and Harry had thought they worked well enough.

The knives he used at Hogwarts were much more solid and nicer to use than the ones at Number 4. It took some time to find some he liked since the majority of them were made for House Elves, but he liked using them. He learned that keeping them sharp was imperative, preventing unfortunate injuries from worsening.

Aberforth's knives were solid and well used. He obviously did not care about flash or appearance, using what he was used to and relied upon. The knives that Harry used from when he started working at Gringotts were among the best, even in their older state. He learned how to properly care for knives from the Crew as time went on and he learned that chefs protected their knives zealously and carefully, that they were a part of them.

This knife, his knife, was nothing like any knife he had ever used before. It cut things beautifully, offering just the right amount of resistance when cutting and chopping and slicing. The weight was perfect, no needing any force to use, no need to hold it a certain way to use properly. The first cut had taken him by surprise, at how effortlessly it cut through the potato. The more he used it, the better it felt, and he almost laughed at the sheer joy it was to use it.

"Would you look at that," Amythyst smiled. "He looks happy."

Diglin looked at the ground, looking happy himself.

After a little more than a couple hours, Harry brought everything over. Normally when kitchen workers ate together before service, it was called family meal and that was something Harry liked a lot. Whoever had the duty for the day would generally make a large pot or a large batch of things and people would take their portions. So Harry made the meal today to reflect that.

"What did you make?" Diglin asked.

"Crake chowder, Gringotts Main Kitchen One style," Harry said proudly. "I also made chickpea and mushroom fritters, and crake-stuffed mushrooms. I also made fried nicken and American style biscuits. I got an American cookbook and made fried chicken and biscuits from it and really liked it."

"Looks good," Diglin said. He served himself a bit of everything and took a bite of each thing with Harry and the Crew watching on. Diglin chewed slowly and looked at Harry. "Tastes good too."

Harry's smile was from ear to ear and the rest of the Crew dove in ravenously, serving themselves and eating eagerly.

"I'm a fan," Amythyst said, chomping on the crisp batter of the fried nicken. "Mmm, that's a good spice to it and the meat tastes great!"

"It's weird calling these biscuits," Hacker said as he munched on one. "But I like it too. Really sops up the chowder broth well."

"You've gotten good at cooking mushrooms," another Crew member said. "Humans usually overcook the heck out of them. This crake meat stuffing is really good!"

"I've been here longer than you and you make a better pot of chowder," Flynt sighed.

"You're too bitter, that's why you make everything taste bitter," another laughed.

"Not everything," Flynt retorted.

Eventually the meal came to a close and Harry had a sense of longing, a reluctance for change. He was truly sad about leaving, something that surprised him. Finally, after everything was cleaned and put away, when his new knife was secured in the case, Harry stood at the door, a little uncertain. He took a deep breath and bowed slightly. "Thank you for everything," he said, meaning every word. "I learned so much and I enjoyed my time here. Thank you for having me and teaching me."

"Keep in touch," Amythyst said. "Send us a message through Flitwick or something here and there."

"It's been good having you," Hacker said.

"Potter," Diglin said, looking at him. "You worked with us here, worked for Gringotts. Once you work for the bank, you're a part of it unless you're fired." All the goblins shuddered at the last word. "If you're not fired, you're still a part of the bank. Remember, the honor of Gringotts resides on the honor of her employees. Don't do anything to tarnish it."

Harry smiled. "I remember Ragnok's axe, I swear I won't."

They chuckled at that with Diglin snorting loudest. "Don't get lazy. Study hard and keep your skills up when you can. When you come back next summer, we won't take it easy on you if you get rusty, do you understand?"

Harry's smile grew. "Yes Chef, understand completely."

"I'm going to miss him," Flynt said, after Harry left. He flushed when everyone looked at him. "What? Just saying. He was better than I thought he'd be."

"We're going to have to hire more people," Hacker said. "Maybe more than one."

"I've already started looking," Diglin sighed. "Harry did a lot here and it was nice."

"Any more humans?" Flynt asked.

"I don't know," Diglin said honestly. "I might trust them a bit more now but as we all know, there aren't many like Harry around."

"He's one of a kind," Amythyst smiled.

-0-

Sirius' whistle was low and long. "Now that is really something," he said, admiring the knife.

That night, Harry had shared the story and showed them the knife before he started making dinner. Sirius, Remus, and the Tonkses had sat, entranced by the tale. Sirius had said James never shared that story, either because it was too personal or he did not know it. It sounded like something the Potters would do, however.

"Oh my, that is a famous symbol," Andromeda said, pointing at Diglin's family symbol. "They are one of the best smithing clans in all of Britain, all of Europe even."

"And you own it outright, that is a very rare gift," Remus said.

"I still can't believe it was something my second great-grandfather owned," Harry said, looking at it. "That's incredible."

"It really is," Andromeda said. "That is a legacy artifact, something that belongs in a family to be treasured. It is precious."

"Not only that, you got it because Diglin recognized your name and your family has a good reputation," Dora said. "And we all know that goblins have harsher reputations over certain things."

"It's a lot to live up to," Harry said softly.

"You already have," Ted said gently. "You wouldn't have gotten this if you didn't. Trust me, goblins that work with Gringotts simply don't do anything they don't want to. They are masters of malicious compliance and following legality to the letter and not a period more. If they make this kind of gesture unprompted, they did so honestly. You earned this, Harry. Don't think otherwise."

"I just…cooked," Harry said, flustered. "I just worked like I would normally."

"And that's an amazing thing," Sirius said flatly. "We're not trying to butter you up. Goblins recognize hard work and, well, lots of magicals don't work like that. Not only that, you're nothing but polite to them usually, not counting the ones who are arses to you. Don't diminish your hard work Harry. That's what makes you who you are, it's a part of your character, as much as your kindness is."

"You think so?" Harry asked, hopeful.

"We know so," Andromeda said warmly, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. "You have proven it countless times."

Harry smiled, feeling a lot better.

"Speaking of buttering something up though," Dora said. She yelped while the others laughed. "Mum!"

Andromeda put her wand away, shaking her head. "Must you think with your stomach?"

"I don't have to but I like to," Dora retorted.

Harry grinned. "Let me make dinner. Did we get those crabs in? I bet crab chowder is just as good as crake chowder, only without the chance of poisoning."

"I stocked up on teagale too anyways," Sirius grinned. "But yeah! We got those crabs and one of them pinched the hell out of me and I'd like nothing more than to eat him."

Later that night, Harry carefully cleaned the knife and slipped the cover that came with it over it. The case had several little things within, made by the Crew. Flynt had made him a sharpening rod and Amythyst included a series of whetstones and cleaning cloths. Hacker made several sheaths and covers and the rest of the Crew had made the case for him.

When the knife was cleaned, he nestled it securely in his knife roll and hung the roll off the headboard of his bed and hung the case off of a loop on the roll. He slowly fell asleep and dreamed of bright knives, simmering chowder, and kind voices speaking Gobbledegook. He ended summer with a completely different feeling than when he started it.

Warm and content.

-0-0-0-

DOOOOOOM Lord of Waffles - I am fairly confident in saying that I will be doing something not a lot of people will see coming for fourth year. If I'm wrong, don't tell me.

odonnellzoo99 - You know how I enjoy subverting expectations. It was fun to see Primrose, a Society witch, be completely thrust into a situation she would have never seen happening and trying to come to terms to it. Luckily she doesn't do the stereotypical reaction.

SixFtWookie - I always announce when the end of a fic is coming.

darthjohn - Thank you for the kind words. I really like knowing I am helping people get through the day and provide some entertainment and comfort. Thank you for reading.

Kaya - It did feel a bit messy while writing it. But I think it came out okay in the end. I try to do some research when I write something I am not familiar with and I always worry I'll make an ignorant faux pas. Thank you for the kind words.

Mitkon2001 - I'm trying to make most of the adults feel more proper and adult like in this setting, it felt right to me.

Hands Off MY Wolfie - I think they probably were a bit more polite at the start out of respect, but they eventually became more at ease genuinely and wasn't as forced.

DarkRavie - Thank you.

poka - I'm glad I included Drake. He is a lot of fun and silly and slightly over the top but I think it works. It's fun having such a different sort of vampire that is irreverent and odd. As always, thank you for your kind words.

guest - Thank you. I try to keep things interesting and try not to rewrite what I've written before in broad strokes.

DustieDaven - Drake and Nicolas would be the best and worst history professors. You'd learn a lot from them but learn a lot of bad things from them at the same time as well as a lot of personal bias on their part.

SvenHPotterFan - Yeah, there were so many guests in these two chapters and it was a bit of a challenge making them all feel important and different. But it worked well I think, well worth the effort.