Chapter Three
Diagon Alley
It took a while living in Wizarding London for Alexander Lavell Harris to force himself go get used to such a quaint little community. It wasn't as bad as Africa had been with the trials of being with the Mini-Slayers, and some of the food, and the weather, and some of the animals like the very dangerous hippos, the hyenas who liked him and insisted that he join their packs (which he kinda understood due to his connection with 'Primal Girl', who had never fully left him), , and some of the people he'd met while over there. The far majority of the people were wonderful, and he made many friends there. But almost all of the warlords and seriously crazy witch doctors who had access to the old ways were a true pain. All of them had power but possessed none of the wisdom that went with it, forcing him to fight them with as much ferocity as he had the vampires and other dark entities inhabiting the part of Africa where he was stationed. But that was a long time ago and there were worse things in the world that he and his friends had to contend with in those days.
For example. the Wolf, Ram and Hart on one side and the Powers That Be on the other, were major pains. Their problems were that they both assumed they had authority above their station, and they acted as such. This attitude and the lack of common sense due to that arrogance was what almost set the world on fire.
Alexander was lost to his thoughts thinking of the good old days as he slowly walked towards the Gringotts Bank about three blocks away. Most of the people that passed him gave him strange looks which he ignored. That wasn't unusual in small tightknit communities. Strangers were always seen as someone to be wary of, but it wasn't that bad. Some of the locals had seen him around and were comfortable enough to speak to him in somewhat friendly I-acknowledge-your-existence kind of way and had nicknamed him and his associate the 'American Colonials'. He didn't mind as he kind of encouraged it, plus it was good for his soon-to-be-open business. he maintained that lazy relaxed attitude needed to establish himself and allow people to get used to him without being overly threatened.
Diagon was a quaint little place and everything he'd imagined a nineteenth century village would be. It was like a lot of the small English villages in some of the outskirts of Bristol he'd visited in the last few months. More importantly though, it provided him with a secondary base of operations to do what he needed to do to help save the world.
To any of the old Scoobies, this was like stepping into a Victorian imagined past mixed with knowledge of the early Nineteen Hundred and a touch of the Nineteen Twenties. If Faith was here, she would have been nuts.
Dawn, her husband and her kids would probably have collectively died by now due to lack of internet access. He could imagine Dawn screaming now. "it's the 1990's! What's wrong with these people!"
He was so glad that Willow wasn't here. It would be a disaster.
There was little doubt in his mind that these magical community were some of the most isolationist people he'd ever seen and he honestly worried about their future.
There was nothing wrong with being isolated to some extent and Alexander admitted that these people had a legitimate fear of non-magical people coming to exploit, control and kill them. This community was extremely powerful but their fear of the non-magicals had left them ignorant and vulnerable. Their opinion of non-magical people was that they were primitive, violent, uncivilized, ignorant, and had had no respect for others not of their own kind. They were a stupid people.
But, weren't they guilty of being the same, oblivating any normal who knew of their world without restrictions or consequences? They were doing this more and more, all of the time almost without restrictions. Magical communities all over the world were becoming more aggressive in their memory wiping of any no-maj or no-mag considered an even possible threat or had seen something they shouldn't have. That was bad enough, but these same people were quickly extending their definition of what said threats meant. Alexander's growing numbers of sources were informing him of rumors that they were actively going after the few magical communities that were not wand users, taking their memories and therefore their abilities all in the name of security. He and others were here to stop this. Traditions were good, but oppression wasn't. They were literally destroying the other sources of magic in this world, magic that helped keep the balance.
It was a concern that needed to be addressed sooner rather than later but that wasn't his first worry. The consequences that happened because of Glory, the moron goddess and what she unleashed into the multiverse in her quest to get home was the stuff of nightmare. The Scoobies had closed the rift, but the cracks had allowed things to get through and for other things to become aware of opportunities that they were once denied. No one had known of the damage at the time. Those dimensional fractures that ran across time and space allowed entities that should not have been allowed in this world to gain access. Whether it was from the past or the distant future, it didn't matter. The world had been seen and there were entities that lusted for such fresh meat.
Those 'all-wise' morons, the PTB didn't see that coming although it was so obvious that they probably tripped over it a couple of times. The evil law firm's CEOs didn't think past next week if it didn't interfere with their plans or bottom line. Both sides missed it and the enemies that they feared crushed them in a matter of months. Fortunately, the Powers above the Powers That Be, stepped in and contained the threat, but not everywhere, which was in part why he was here.
"I'm spoiled," he whispered. "Give me good old London any day." Looking towards the clouded sky he muttered ironically, "Giles, I take back everything I said about the land of tweed."
People who heard him muttering paid him no attention. Afterall, it was just 'the American' doing what Americans did. Those colonials were strange.
Sometimes, it was good to walk in order to get the layout of the land. It gave him a feel of the place. He could sense the wards and spells caste upon the entire area. The place was filled with magic, old and powerful. But the basics were all the same, all originating from the same source.
Still lost in his musings, he nearly bumped into a young couple exiting the bank. Looking up, he mentally slapped himself. He needed to work on his awareness of his surroundings more often. His instructors drilled that into him, but obviously, he still had a bit of trouble with that particular lesson. Even in Africa he was slapped by the harshness of that lesson a couple of times. He had his master's degree now and he vowed not to be caught off-guard again. Thinking of the bank's motto, he smiled because the words were true. Fortius Quo Fidelius, meaning strength through loyalty. He could definitely relate.
The structure looked like an oversized marbled version of a magical Fort Knox. Unlike most banks in the normal world, this one had several guards with ancient, very sharp weapons standing next to the door. Said guards literally glared at the patrons, as said patrons entered and left the bank. Each of the guards wore what looked to be archaic but functional armor. Alexander assumed that both the weapons and the armor were magically enhanced.
What struck the man were the looks of absolute contempt the guards had for the people, and how completely unaware the wizards and witches were to their attitudes. He'd read some of the history of the Goblin Wars, but he didn't expect to see the open animosity that they exhibited. The patrons were oblivious, and he had little doubt that any serious infraction could well start another war. The magical humans felt they were safe. Xander doubted they were as safe as they thought.
Maybe it was his natural paranoid but as he entered the bank, he could feel the aura of menace that pervaded the establishment. Years of being on the Hellmouth and then in Cleveland, not to mention in some of the more dangerous parts of Africa had honed his senses. Sometimes it wasn't the fast vanishing jungles you had to worry about, it was the sprawling cities which hid a significant number of vampires. The feeling he experience here was almost as bad as the feelings he had in New York.
'Oh, those were the good old simple days where there were only vampires, demons and occasional madmen to worry about', he thought.
The line to the tellers was long and he waited approximately twenty minutes to get to one. These may have been the most civilized of the goblin species that Xander knew of but there was no doubt that they were of the same family, just less overtly savage. Most of the goblin species were savage animals bearing a hatred of anything not their own that was truly frightening. For many of them, it was kill, or be killed if you were human, elf, or anything else. Here, they were just annoying unless you screwed with them. This was expected, so he was prepared.
The goblin tellers were in no hurry to conduct business with their patrons and in this the patrons did notice. Being the only bank in town other than the gnome Federated Savings and Loans whom few people trusted with their money, the people gritted their teeth at the disrespect and waited their turns. The goblins obviously enjoyed their influence and the ability to stick it to the wizards and witches in every way possible–legally, of course. Alexander was also that the people here were so used to it, they likely didn't even realize what the goblin were doing it anymore.
After a seeming eternity of waiting, he finally, he stepped up to the booth. The name of the goblin teller who was sneering at him was on a placard. Xander had no intentions of trying to pronounce it. As was custom, this goblin barely glanced up at him, however when he did so, his eyes widened for an instant. Normally wizards didn't wear capes and this cape somehow impossibly looked threatening. Furthermore, rarely did Americans come to the British branch to do business.
"What do you want," the unnamed teller growled as he tried to intimidate Alexander and show his disdain at the same time.
"I want to do business with thus sorry excuse of a bank," he growled back. "Correction, I mean to do business with a sorry excuse for a minor bank employee. I want to open an account here but looking at such incompetence, I wander if I've made a mistake," he said. And then he whispered something that made the goblin teller blanch.
His eyes flared in surprise and anger. "That was the old tongue," no-name gasped. Other than a few words, that language was lost to time and only a few knew how to speak it. But every goblin knew the intonation and a few insults of that lost language. Then he stood still in shock as the caped American proceeded to further insult hm and his family in the old tongue. Most of the words went over his head, but he got the point most eloquently. The teller was enraged. He was also intrigued. "How do you know our language? How do you know of the old tongue?"" he demanded.
"One of the old tongues," Harris corrected. "I know several, but it doesn't matter to you, does it? What I want is to open a bank account at this sorry establishment, if you can get off your behind and help me or get someone more competent get someone else."
The goblin looked at him for a long moment. "Wait over there," he said pointing towards a small chair off to the side. The teller disappeared though one of the many back doors behind him.
The people behind him sighed in frustration. Their wait was about to get longer.
After a few minutes another goblin opened a small door off to the side and motioned Xander to come with him. They walked through several corridors before they got to the goblin's office. The man was unsurprised that the office was larger than most. His introduction–using one of the old languages was more than enough to capture their interests.
As Xander sat, the old goblin did the same. Immediately the goblin started speaking. "I am the manager of this fine establishment," the male said in the same old tongue that Xander had used. "You wish to open an account?"
Xander didn't miss a beat. "Yes, I seek to create an account at this bank. But I'm here for a second reason which I will discuss with your Head Manager later."
The old goblin almost sneered and would have, if it weren't for the almost flawless way the human spoke the goblin language. "How did you learn to speak the old tongue?" he finally asked in English. Only a few souls on Earth know of that language.
Alexander snarled it nicely. "That is the second reason why I'm here. But first, I want to open an account starting with three thousand pounds, normal currency."
"That's all?" the goblin grumbled. "I expected more."
"Guess what?" Alex said matching the ferocity that the old goblin used. "My account is priceless to your bank. Money is good but it's far from everything of value."
For the first time. the goblin's stare wasn't filled with the contempt that pervaded the other goblins he'd seen so far. "We shall see," the goblin with no name allowed. This wizard interested him as far as humans could.
My associate said that you want to open with three thousand British pounds. Normally I would have one of my underlings prepare the papers, but I will do this personally. Your 'introduction' demands this. I am curious why you're here and it's not just opening an account with our illustrious institution, is it?"
"Good" said Xander giving off a sinister smile. "Now, continuing the introduction, would you be interested in completing this application in the old tongue, just for practice? I have no desire to use words like 'sorry' and 'incompetent' when I speak of this institution. I want to know what it's like to work with a first-rate establishment without first having to insult those who work for it. then we will discuss the real reason I am here."
"I accept the challenge," the goblin growled amiability. This human was intriguing and had offered honorable challenge using words instead of weapons. The aged goblin rarely had the opportunity to speak in the ancient language so wouldn't waste the opportunity. Besides, he wanted to see how fluent this 'American' was.
For the next half hour, the goblin found himself pleasantly surprised and he learned a bit in the process. This, of course irritated him somewhat knowing that the human knew more than he did about the obscure language. However, he was never one to ignore new knowledge.
And learned he did.