Grâce aux Malfoys
Standard Disclaimer: Nope, not mine, never has been and never will be. All characters that you recognize are the property of Scottish author and the various companies and whatnot who have a slice of a lucrative pie. My eternal gratitude to Ms Rowling, however, for letting us romp in her playground.
Author's Notes: The usual apologies for the delay in the update and my continuing gratitude to all those who have commented, or marked this as a favourite and included me - and this story - in their favourites.
Two more chapters to go and hopefully, the last chapters will be uploaded very soon. One chapter is almost complete and the last (an epilogue) has been blocked out for some time.
Without further ado …
Chapter 8.
The Front Lawn, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
"Heads up, people. Here they come."
It was a measure of the Minister's commanding presence that the people gathered on the front lawn visibly straightened, flexed their shoulders and took on a serious, determined air.
Kingsley Shacklebolt looked around and gave a tight smile of approval even as he straightened his robes and put his game face on. This was his first `official' function as Acting Minister of Magical Britain and - he sincerely hoped - it wouldn't be his last.
Try as he might, though, he couldn't help a worm of unease from squirming in his mind.
They'd planned for this `meeting' with the precision of a military campaign or a Steven Spielberg production.
Hagrid, as Keeper of the Keys and Grounds and assisted by house elves wearing footmen's uniforms from a century before, would accompany the thestral-drawn carriages to Hogsmeade where the goblins would gather in front of the Three Broomsticks. Hagrid would then lead the procession to the Front Lawn where Minister Shacklebolt (with Headmistress McGonagall and Deputy Headmaster Flitwick on either side) would stand, ready to welcome their guests with the appropriate words and ceremony. Standing behind and to the left of Minerva would be Harry and Hermione (as nominal Head Students) while Percy would be standing behind and to the right of Flitwick, as head of Goblin Liaison. Remus and Tonks would be in the front row behind their `leaders' while the others (including Aurors and DA members) would be spread among the crowd, alert but non-threatening - no wands in evidence.
Simple.
Except for a few things that bothered him.
For one - why the Three Broomsticks? Gringotts had a Hogsmeade branch. Stands to reason, Shacklebolt thought, that the goblins will use their own transportation network to get from their main office to the Hogsmeade branch and proceed from there … so why `gather' at the Three Broomsticks?
Second - why were all the carriages in use for this? He was looking out the Headmistress' office when the carriages departed and he'd idly voiced the question of how many goblins were coming to visit.
The only times when all the carriages were used were on the first and last day of the school year - the first, to transport students Second Year and above from Hogsmeade station to the school; the last, to move the students from school to station for the return trip to London.
Even Hogsmeade visits did not warrant all the carriages being used since only Third Years and above needed them … so how many goblins were visiting?
And the most vexing question of all: what was this about? True, Ragnok said he wanted to meet with him and Harry - but did that require so many carriages? Or so many goblins? And did this have anything to do with the shocking revelation about Harry's heritage which had been hidden away for so long?
Goblins were, for some reason, immune from mind and compulsion magic - which made them the perfect bankers and financial managers for the wizarding world. After all, what trust can be placed in a bank if any competent wizard can use the Imperious or other compulsion spells to make an illegal withdrawal?
The question was, what did the goblins know about Harry's inheritance? True, Filius had been affected by whatever spell or ritual Dumbledore used (they all agreed that no one else could have done it) - but Filius was the first to admit that he could have been affected since he was not `full' goblin.
He shook his head and squared his shoulders - the lead carriage was in sight and the next few minutes would tell the tale.
The crowd stood in tense expectation as the carriages rolled to a stop and elves jumped down to open the doors. From the lead carriage, a distinguished-looking goblin wearing a well-tailored waistcoat and half-trousers stepped out, followed by a decidedly feminine goblin in beautifully embroidered robes …
Kingsley Shacklebolt blinked when a vaguely familiar face came into view behind the female goblin - a once stocky, now rather thin man with an arm in a sling, who limped as he stepped down from the carriage -
"DADDY!" The shout rent the air, quickly followed by cries of joy and surprise as people - some healthy, others apparently walking wounded - began stepping out from the other carriages, several being assisted by goblins and elves.
The disciplined ranks of Hogwarts' defenders broke; Nymphadora Tonks-Lupin led the charge, heading straight for the wizard who'd shared the carriage with Ragnok and his companion, crying "DADDY!" the whole time.
Chaos was inevitable (the Thestrals that everyone could now see rearing up in their harnesses from the commotion) were it not for Hagrid who, placing two fingers in his mouth, let out an ear-piercing whistle that calmed the unearthly horses and froze everyone in their tracks.
Except for Tonks who was face down on the grass, having apparently tripped in her dash for her father. In the sudden silence, Ted Tonks' long-suffering voice came loud and clear: "My apologies, Clan Chief. My daughter is rather … excitable."
"To say nothing of clumsy," Remus' aggrieved voice followed, just as Tonks leaped to her feet, eyes blazing and apparently anxious to start throwing curses at her husband for his remark. Her father's sharp "Dora!" made her pause - allowing the goblin chief to step forward and say loudly, "Please! Let us not stand on ceremony! This is a joyous occasion for all!"
Ragnok's words triggered a more controlled surge towards the humans who accompanied the goblins, leading to exuberant reunions all over the lawn.
As families reunited and friends embraced, Flitwick, Minerva and Shacklebolt approached the Leader of the Goblin Nation.
Flitwick took the lead and saluted the Goblin leader with a clenched fist over his heart; Ragnok returned the salute but followed this by wrapping Flitwick in his arms and lifting him up before setting him down and giving the diminutive professor a slap on the back that would have staggered a lesser man as the goblins with him (who'd approached from the other carriages) snickered in the background.
Shaking his head, Flitwick then introduced McGonagall and Shacklebolt with the former curtseying while the Minister bowed. Ragnok returned with a fist on chest salute before extending his hand to shake theirs.
Harry and Hermione stood back, watching exultant reunions (they recognized Natalie MacDonald surrounded by her year-mates) and biting their lips in sympathetic pain at the sight of a few who wandered around seemingly aimless, searching the crowd for a remembered face - and finding none.
"Harry?" Shacklebolt's deep voice interrupted their thoughts and Harry saw that the Minister was beckoning him over. He took a deep breath and, grabbing Hermione's hand, walked over. Stopping a few paces from the group, the two stood at attention for a moment before simultaneously bowing at the waist to the goblin leader as Shacklebolt performed the introductions: "Director Ragnok, may I present Harry James Potter, Heir-Apparent of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter and his … best friend and companion, Hermione Jane Granger.
"Harry Potter, Hermione Granger - Director Ragnok of Gringotts Worldwide, Clan Chief of the Clan Chiefs of the Goblin Nation and his Consort and life-mate, Reena."
The two teens straightened and Harry took a step forward, hand extended, saying, "Clan Chief Ragnok, Consort Reena. A pleasure to meet you both."
For a long moment, Harry stood with his hand out as deep, dark eyes locked with his. He was beginning to wonder if he had committed a breach in protocol when the apparently middle-aged goblin sighed before extending his hand and touching Harry's briefly.
"Potter." Turning his head, he gave a short neck bow to Hermione. "Miss Granger." He bit his lip, looking uncomfortable for a moment, before addressing Harry. "Protocol dictates that I address you as `Mister' Potter until the time you ascend to your titles. It would seem that, if not for … interference from wizards or witches unknown, I should be addressing you as `Lord' Potter now. My apologies."
"No need for apologies, Clan Chief," responded Harry. "I assume that you were affected, as we all were, by whatever ritual or magic was used to hide the knowledge of my inheritance from our world?" At Ragnok's raised eyebrow, Harry continued as he inclined his head to one side, "Deputy Headmaster Flitwick was kind enough to explain. He had emphasized your nation's immunity to mind and compulsion magic; as a half-goblin, however, he was unsure whether the effect on him extended to yours.
"It would seem that whatever was cast or used has affected us all. As such, no blame or culpability can be imputed to the Nation for any lapses or errors. If anything, blame or censure should be attached to the person responsible, whoever it may be,"
"Well said, Mr Potter. The Nation thanks you."
The ensuing silence was awkward as Harry and Ragnok, Hermione and Reena assessed the other - all of them waiting for the next move. The silence lengthened and human and goblin mouths opened to speak when ethereal phoenix song washed over everyone, just seconds before a flash of flame had everyone blinking, except for Harry's excited cry of "Fawkes!"
Harry's elation was replaced by a soft and pained "Oh" of disappointment as they stared at the beautiful blue and white phoenix flying above them, singing as it made a circuit of the lawn before gliding elegantly to McGonagall's outstretched arm.
"Hello, Anastasia. I trust all is well?" McGonagall said as she conjured an elegant perch on the lawn, to which the phoenix hopped before extending a scroll to the Headmistress. McGonagall turned to see everyone, including the goblins, gaping at her.
It was Ragnok who broke the silence. "I didn't know you had a phoenix companion, Headmistress."
"Unfortunately, Clan Chief, Anastasia isn't mine," McGonagall said as she removed the scroll and gently scratched the firebird's chest, which set it crooning. "She's my daughter's familiar."
McGonagall smiled at the goblin leader's raised eyebrow. "Samantha Minerva McGonagall Wallace … she dropped the McGonagall when she came of age, saying that she didn't want to be labelled a candy for the rest of her life." She sobered. "We also felt it best to obscure her origins, for reasons I am sure you appreciate."
"I see." The goblin chief sounded distracted and McGonagall frowned. Turning, she blinked when she saw that the phoenix had locked eyes with Harry Potter and was holding a seeming conversation with him: a burst of phoenix song would be followed by Harry nodding, shaking his head, or shrugging his shoulders - like a man giving non-verbal responses to questions asked.
As they watched, the phoenix and the young man bowed to the other and Harry turned to the others with a sigh.
"Harry?" Hermione asked worriedly as she gave him a hug.
"Hmm?" he absently replied. "Oh - Fawkes is all right. He's home now but would be back soon."
He blinked when he felt Hermione pushing him back and staring at him. "What?" he said petulantly - and then realized what he just said. "What? Didn't you hear what she said?"
"Ummm - no," replied Hermione, shaking her head - an action that everyone within earshot emulated.
Harry rolled his eyes as a series of notes that sounded like laughter came from the phoenix. "Great! First, talk to snakes … now I can talk to a bloody bird?"
He raised an eyebrow at an indignant squawk. "Well, what else are you? I know … I know," he said, in a placating manner. "You're not just a bird, you're THE bird." The phoenix responded with a sound suspiciously like a raspberry. Rolling his eyes, he turned to McGonagall. "Umm, Headmistress? The letter? I think Ana's waiting for a reply."
"Oh!" McGonagall shook off her surprise and scanned the letter, smirking momentarily before schooling her face into impassivity and turning to Shacklebolt and Ragnok.
"The Minister of Magic for Australia," she began in a formal tone, "extends her congratulations to the magical peoples of Britain -" she nodded at Ragnok who bowed back - "for removing the blight on the world that is Voldemort. She expresses a wish to visit and pay her respects."
She paused. "If you don't mind, Minister, Clan Chief, I would like to invite her to dine with us tonight." At their nods, she continued, "She also begs our indulgence as she wishes to bring some … guests … with her."
"Guests, Headmistress?" Percy asked. McGonagall glanced at Harry with an evil smile before responding. "Ms Granger's parents will be joining her."
"Is it too late to have a will prepared?"
The silence that followed Harry's unthinking outburst was broken by a bark of laughter followed by a loud `OOF!!' as Reena elbowed the goblin leader in the ribs. Straightening, Ragnok said in a pained voice, "Gringotts would be more than happy to assist, Lord Potter."
"Ummm … thank you?"
It was Anastasia's trilling laughter (for that was the only way to describe the burst of phoenix `song') that broke the awkward moment as goblin, human and half-goblin smiled or silently commiserated with Harry. McGonagall couldn't hide her smirk as she penned a reply on the parchment and handed it to the phoenix who'd jumped to Harry's shoulder and was crooning sympathetically to him.
The phoenix took the parchment in her beak and leaped, disappearing in a ball of flame even as phoenix song surrounded them.
McGonagall broke the ensuing silence, "It will take Anastasia some time to head back; may I suggest we retire to the castle for our meeting?" She gave both Harry and Shacklebolt a meaningful glance, to which the Minister responded, "Of course, Headmistress. If you would lead the way?"
As they proceeded to the open doors of Hogwarts, an errant thought flashed through Harry's mind: all they needed was a priest incanting prayers as the party headed for the gallows and his impending doom.
***
The Front Parlour, Malfoy Manor
It was a silent family that sat down to tea in Malfoy Manor - a most accurate term, Draco Malfoy thought to himself, as `tea' was the only thing they had. No scones, no sandwiches, no sweets … nothing but tea.
Not even milk or cream.
And no house elf to serve them.
He sighed; who could have thought that the Malfoys would sink so low? They were the top of the magical food chain only a year before … and now, reduced to this. He shuddered as he wondered what would be for dinner tonight - the elves had always done the cooking at Malfoy Manor; with no elves around (and no prospect of getting a replacement soon), it was either scrounge in the kitchen or starve.
He watched as his mother poured; one thing he could say for Narcissa Malfoy nee Black, her hands didn't even tremble. As he watched, his mind drifted off to the events that led to the present situation …
They'd adjourned to the parlour after their tense lunchtime discussion. His father, in a rare display of affection, had offered to teach him the basics of magical poker while his mother curled up on the lounge with a book. He was about to lay down his cards - a straight flush - when the magical pulse hit and he sat there confused, wondering who the hell Charlus Potter was.
Only to gape at the sight of his wide-eyed father sitting frozen in front of him, mouth open, cards forgotten - comically in the same pose that his mother was in, except that it was her book on the floor.
Their stupor was broken by a loud crash from the door, and all three Malfoys were on their feet with wands drawn - only to see Blinky the House-Elf standing there, the Malfoy sterling silver tea service on the floor where he'd dropped it, eyes glazed and defocused. Seconds or minutes passed before the elf shook itself from his immobile pose, suddenly standing straight and small before declaring loudly, "Yous is not Blinky's masters!"
Before he could pop away, a silvery curse impacted the elf - and Draco watched as its head separated from its body before the elf slumped to the floor, followed by an unholy screech from Narcissa Malfoy: "WHAT THE HELL HAVE YOU DONE NOW?"
"Stopping him," a shaken Lucius replied. He shook his head as he stared at his wife, "Don't you see, Narcissa? He's a Potter elf - why else would he declare that we are not his masters, so soon after that damned block was lifted? He'd probably be on his way to Potter if I didn't stop him … if he had, all our plans would be ruined! I did what I had to do!"
Draco fully expected his mother to start screeching worse than a Molly Howler - and gaped as she slumped to the floor, hands over her face even as his father wordlessly began banishing the evidence of the house-elf's demise from the room - including the food spilled when the magical pulse hit.
He glanced at his father, sitting and staring into the distance, unaware of the cup of tea in his hand. Who could have known that a simple and straightforward `prank' could become so complicated so soon? Although to be fair, no one could have anticipated what the old goat Dumbledore had done …
He shook his head of the thought; unless his father's plans came to fruition and Draco became the Head of the Black Family, his mother - and even he, himself, would have no choice but to work. He shuddered at that … what sort of work would he find with average grades in everything except Potions (and that only because of Snape's tutoring)?
No, Draco thought, the only chance to avoid that fate was to be declared the Head of the Black Family … but that seemed to be a slim chance that was getting slimmer with each passing hour.
Potter, he thought viciously. Who would have thought - Potty, the Half-Blood Prince, Head of an Ancient and Most Noble House, with titles in both magical and muggle worlds and an unbroken magical lineage going back centuries?
Or that Potty's grandmother was Dorea Black, which made the batard the senior heir to House Black. There was no need for Sirius Black's Blood Adoption - except that the memory of Potter's lineage had been removed from their world …
The lifting of Dumbledore's block - they all agreed he was the only one who could have done it - meant that Gringotts and the Ministry would investigate … which would lead to Potter's Black inheritance which could lead to Lucius' `prank' and all it implied … which would mean the end of the Malfoy influence forever.
To say nothing of the Malfoys themselves.
Or maybe not, Draco thought. Lucius' quick action ensured that the only one outside the family who knew the entire plot was silenced. Lucius insisted that he had nothing to do with keeping the Black inheritance from Potty … possible, Draco thought. His father had done quite a few stints as a guard at the bank - further humiliation by the Dark Lord of his once-trusted lieutenant - he could have overheard something. He was sneaky enough for that …
He shook his head. Four months. If Potty didn't marry or name an heir in that time … he could only hope that Lucius was correct, and the Prophet's story on the Weasel-Granger `wedding' would send Potty running for the hills and out of their lives.
He sighed, covering this by appearing to be blowing on his tea.
It was going to be a long four months.
***
Anteroom off the Great Hall, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
It was a stately if informal procession that entered the castle, headed for the Great Hall and an anteroom that Harry was all too familiar with from his fourth year.
In the lead was Filius Flitwick and Ragnok's consort Reena who were engaged in an animated conversation that Ragnok, who was following behind with Kingsley Shacklebolt at his side, was watching with a grin. Behind the Clan Chief and the Minister strolled Harry, Hermione and McGonagall, who were also watching the half-goblin and the goblin consort in amusement.
Trailing behind were Percy Weasley (who was looking at the `procession' disapprovingly), while Remus (who had left Tonks with her father outside) was engaging several older goblins - who had the look of advisors to Ragnok about them, being in the same sort of elegant outfit as their leader - in a conversation.
Taking up the rear in a defensive formation were several goblins whose movements shouted `protection detail' to anyone who cared to look. Even they, however, were clearly amused at the conversation taking place at the head of the procession.
"So, Fil," Reena said to her diminutive companion. "Deputy Headmaster already? My dear old dad would be so pleased … Little Fil Flitwick, all grown up and Deputy Headmaster of Hogwarts."
She grinned at the blushing professor and turned to wink at her husband, who smirked back. Ragnok turned to Shacklebolt and the others behind them. "Reena's father is the Headmaster of our equivalent to Hogwarts … Filius, Reena and I were in the same class until Filius decided to transfer to Hogwarts where Armando Dippet accepted him."
"It was a loss to the Nation, Minister Shacklebolt," Reena said. "Filius was well on his way to a Mastery in Charms even then, as well as becoming a rising star on the duelling circuit. Unfortunately," her expression darkened as did her husband's, "circumstances at the time made him opt for your world. Many of us were saddened to see him go but heartened that he has made his mark."
"Your loss, our gain, Consort Reena," Kingsley said in his deep voice. "I have to admit that I owe my current position to Filius; he has generously lent his time during my school days and after in helping me hone my combat skills."
"I am right here, you know," the red-faced Flitwick piped up. "Although I haven't yet congratulated you, Reena, on either your acceptance as instructor at the Academy or both of you, on the latest addition to your family! When will I get a chance to see the newest rascal?"
A shadow passed over the faces of Ragnok and his consort - something that all nearby noticed. Flitwick spoke quickly, "Is there something wrong, my friend?"
The consort shook her head and smiled, although this did not seemingly reach her eyes. "No, no … the little one is fine. Her naming day is coming soon but she does misses her playmate so." She thought for a moment. "When you have time for a visit, Fil, I would appreciate it if you ask Miss McDonald to join you. She is not aware of our private access and cannot be told of these, but I have no wish to deny my little one of her companionship."
The procession stopped as Flitwick, McGonagall, Harry and Hermione stopped to gape at the consort. It was McGonagall who broke the silence: "Miss McDonald? Natalie McDonald? I thought …"
"We saw her outside, Headmistress," Harry interjected. "She was there with her family but we were unable to approach …"
"Thank Merlin," McGonagall whispered. She smiled, tremulously, at Ragnok and his consort. "She was one of my students and a member of my house … as well as a good friend of these two (indicating Harry and Hermione). Being Muggle-Born, she was unable to attend last year and since we had no word of her …"
"I understand, Headmistress," Reena said. "She and her family were granted asylum by the Nation and has been with us for some time. We were more than happy to have her."
There was a hint of something more in Reena's voice but no one was sure how to comment on it. Minister Shacklebolt cleared his throat, "Hem, Hem. I was unable to say this earlier, Clan Chief, Consort Reena … but I wish to express the Ministry's gratitude and appreciation for the … `repatriation' of our citizens."
He paused and shook his head. "My apologies but I cannot find a more suitable term … that sounded like you were returning prisoners of war but it is obvious that that is not the case …"
"No apologies needed, Minister Shacklebolt," Ragnok responded. "The Nation understands … in fact, the Nation owes a debt of gratitude to those who were with us."
He smiled, a smile mixed with sadness, pain and a hint of anger, at Shacklebolt's raised eyebrow. "Therein lies a tale, Minister, but all in good time …"
Shacklebolt blinked; he hadn't realized that they had passed through the Great Hall and were already standing at the door of the anteroom where their meeting was to be held. Percy had unobtrusively moved ahead of them and had opened the door and, with a flourish, bowed them through - every inch the perfect assistant to the Minister of Magic.
Without a word, the Minister of Magic and the Clan Chief of the Clan Chiefs of the Goblin Nation entered the room, followed by Flitwick and Consort Reena - and then Percy followed, leaving Hermione, Harry and McGonagall staring at his back before the three placed hands over their mouths to stop themselves snickering. Behind them, Remus was biting his lip while the goblin advisors were rolling their eyes in amusement.
Harry paused before entering, a fleeting memory of a Halloween years before flashing through his mind. He remembered that moment, wondering what the hell was going on with the Goblet of Fire and why Fate chose him as its boy toy … and stopped when he saw a small table with two facing chairs in the centre of the room, a single chair slightly behind and to the right of each of the facing seats, clearly for a designated advisor or assistant while the walls were lined with chairs - obviously for whoever else was expected to be here, whether advisors or spectators.
Ragnok was standing to one side of the table; he saw Reena by the wall behind her husband; without a word, an older goblin that Remus had been speaking with slipped by his side and walked to the chair immediately behind Ragnok.
It was the sight of the Minister, McGonagall and Percy standing by the wall opposite the goblins that truly disturbed Harry - the seat across from Ragnok was clearly for him. As he gaped, he felt Hermione's hand entwining with his, and give a reassuring squeeze.
Unthinking, he stepped forward and pulled her along - he would be damned if he faced this without his best friend at his side.
As he approached `his' chair, Ragnok spoke in his gravelly voice, "I believe it is time for us to rectify an oversight."
Without a word, a goblin approached and handed a small, ornately carved box to his leader who opened it, revealing a modest, unassuming ring: a simple silvery band, somewhat wide as would befit a masculine hand. It had a flat surface where a stone would be, with a barely legible seal which looked like crossed sticks or wands beneath a crude rendition of a crown.
Ragnok extended the box to Harry, and formally stated, "Harry James Potter, in accordance with treaties signed between our peoples and the Laws of Inheritance of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter, in the presence of the Minister of Magic, Gringotts Bank turns over the titles, inheritances, and properties of the Potter Family."
"Thank you, Clan Chief," Harry whispered. He silently removed the ring from the box (handing over the latter to Hermione for safe-keeping) and held it up. He saw runic writing inscribed around the band; like the seal, it was clearly worn down by age and countless fingers rubbing it as the runes were barely legible. Harry affected peering at the writing intently as he muttered, "One ring to rule them all - OW! Hermione!"
"This is serious, Harry!" Hermione hissed - but her impending rant was stopped cold when she heard the stifled giggles and muffled laughter of the others. Turning, she saw Ragnok with a benign smile on his face as he said, "Tolkien had a most facile pen, Lady - Miss Granger - although his unflattering description of the Nation saw him banned from the bank for the rest of his natural life."
"Besides," McGonagall said from her position behind them, "there will always be one or two who will say that when they receive their head of house ring."
Harry poked a tongue at Hermione before turning back to Ragnok and bowed, again thanking the goblin leader. Ragnok watched as Harry placed the ring on his finger and grinned when a golden aura surrounded the young man, confirming the fact that Harry James Potter was indeed Lord Potter, with all the titles, inheritances and responsibilities inherent in the name.
He was about to congratulate the young lord but stopped as he realized that tears were falling from Harry's eyes. A worried Hermione looked ready to launch herself at him when Harry held a hand up to stop her, even as the other was wiping at his eyes. Glancing around apologetically, he whispered, "I'm sorry … I was hoping …"
"Harry?"
He sighed. "It's nothing … I was just hoping that the ring held some … memories or something. I mean … I have no memory at all of my grandfather and was hoping that the ring …" He shook his head, "My apologies, Director … Consort Reena."
"No apologies needed, Lord Potter," Ragnok said softly. "I'm just sorry that the ring is not what you expected or hoped for. The only magical property it has is that of recognizing or confirming the rightful Head of an Ancient and Noble House …" At the curious look the two teens gave him, he continued, "The rings for the Most Ancient Houses have enchantments to prevent unauthorized use by anyone not entitled to wear it. Those same enchantments are used in the rings for the newer families, although many of the latter have additional magic on them." He smiled at their curious looks. "As I understand it, some Head of House rings are charmed to never be removed or hidden unless the Head of House passes on."
He shook his head. "I see it as a case of simple vanity; a means of constantly proclaiming the head's status to the world at large."
This time, Ragnok cast a curious look at the teens who exchanged meaningful looks with each other - but before he could inquire, it was Harry who was standing tall in front of him, saying in a formal tone, "Clan Chief Ragnok, before we proceed, there is a matter that I feel should be settled first."
Ragnok blinked but quickly recovered and nodded for Harry to proceed. Harry turned to Hermione who reached into the bag that they'd carried around for most of a year and started pulling something out. The goblins watched closely, alert for treachery or betrayal - and gasped when Hermione pulled out a canvas-wrapped sword whose handle gleamed with rubies the size of eggs.
With a slight bow to Ragnok, she handed the sword to Harry who removed the canvas, revealing the silver blade with `Godric Gryffindor' inscribed below the hilt. Turning to the shocked Ragnok (and mindful of the tense stance of Ragnok's guards), Harry stated in a firm voice, "As representative of Hogwarts and a past wielder of the Sword, I return this to the descendants of its makers in the hope that such gesture will remove one of the many contentious issues between our peoples."
The silence in the room was the proverbial `so thick you can cut with a knife' as Ragnok stared at Harry, who held out the sword to the goblin leader. Ragnok flicked his eyes to McGonagall, then to Shacklebolt and Flitwick who nodded in agreement or resignation.
It had been a controversial issue in the Headmistress' office earlier - although the argument was between the living and the dead. The portraits of Headmasters past were adamant about keeping the Sword of Gryffindor in the castle; Hermione and Harry were just as resolute to return it while the Minister, the Headmistress and her Deputy were unsure.
The argument ended when Harry banished the glass case holding the Sword and turned it over to Hermione for safe keeping.
A sigh escaping Ragnok's lips broke the silence - Ragnok gestured for Harry to place the artefact on the table between them instead of accepting it. As Harry complied, the head of Gringotts sank into his chair with everyone else following.
"Lord Potter …" Ragnok's gravelly voice broke the silence, "while the Nation is appreciative of your gesture … what makes you think that we want the sword back?"
A school of goldfish would not have done a better impersonation of flap-mouthed surprise; not surprisingly, it was Hermione who first found her voice: "Bu-ba-but-huh?"
"I assume that a certain p'tahk -" Ragnok said, even as Hermione blinked at the goblin's invective - "told you that it was `taken' from my ancestor, Ragnuk the First, by Godric Gryffindor?"
At their nods, he continued, "May I further assume that the pathetic tahkeck said that this was the price of his cooperation to get you into the Lestrange vault?"
Again, Harry and Hermione nodded; the latter's brains near-melting as she wondered how Klingon epithets made it into the Goblin dialect … or was it the other way around? She shook her head as she realized that Ragnok was muttering imprecations under his breath - she was sure that she could pick up a few more Klingon words in there.
"Clan Chief?" Harry's query stopped Ragnok's diatribe and focused the latter back to the room and its occupants. Ragnok sighed and shook his head. "Lord Potter, Goblin history notes that Gryffindor defeated Ragnuk in single combat and claimed the sword, as was his right as a valiant and honourable warrior.
"There are those in the Nation, however, who choose to believe that it was a treacherous Gryffindor who `stole' the sword from the valiant Ragnuk - and that he who succeeds in bringing the sword back to our ancestral halls will be acclaimed a hero!"
Ragnok's eyes turned flinty as he continued, "Tell me, Lord Potter, what honour is there in displaying a symbol of our defeat? It would be a constant reminder of our loss - no! Far better to hold on to symbols of victory, of celebration, rather than fester in thoughts of what might have been!"
A squeak and a thump broke the tension generated by Ragnok's words; all eyes turned to see a mortified Professor Flitwick climbing back into his chair.
"It would seem, honoured friend," Ragnok's advisor said to him, "that Filius was asleep in that class!"
A loud bark of laughter erupted from Ragnok, only to be interrupted by the melodious voice of his consort: "Oh no, Honourable Ironclaw! Filius and Ragnok decided to sneak out of class for some `herbal experimentation,' I believe they called it. Apparently, someone -" she gave an apple-cheeked Flitwick an evil smirk - "got his hands on some muggle weed called `ganja' and decided to share it with Ragnok."
The goblins in the room were snickering at their leader's sputtering while the humans - especially McGonagall - were gaping at the totally mortified Flitwick.
"My father, the Headmaster, caught them on the training grounds," Reena continued. "Buck naked and running around, proclaiming they were Pan and a nymph … Pan, of course, trying to do what myth says he always does to nymphs."
She paused before casting a meaningful glance at McGonagall. "I still have the pictures."
It was too much - humans and goblins exploded in laughter, Hermione and Harry clutching each other as they roared, Remus and Ironclaw on the floor holding their stomachs as McGonagall gaped at her old friend and the image evoked of two young men stoned out of their minds and chasing each other around the grounds.
A loud "Hem, Hem!" halted the hilarity and they tried to look serious (although an occasional giggle broke through). Ragnok glared at his consort - who gave him a wide, wide grin to which Ragnok responded with a roll of his eyes and muttered maledictions which the goblins (and Flitwick) knew were along the lines of spoiled brats and Headmaster's daughters.
Standing up, the goblin warrior spoke formally, "The Nation and Clans thank you for the gesture, Lord Potter, but we cannot accept such a gift. It is rightfully yours, won in battle by your honoured ancestor and - as I am made to understand - it has found far more use than it would have, rusting away in whatever mouldy storeroom Gryffindor found for it."
The thought of the Sorting Hat's outrage at being called a `mouldy storeroom' made Harry grin - almost; jumping to his feet, he bowed to Ragnok and accepted the Sword back before turning it over to Hermione for safekeeping. Turning back to Ragnok, he asked, "Why would Griphook lie about something like this, Clan Chief?"
"Ah," the venerable goblin said with a sigh as he glanced at his consort. "We come close to the heart of the matter."
He sat down heavily in his chair, clearly gathering his thoughts. "How much do you know of the Goblin Nation, Lord Potter?"
Additional Note: My deepest thanks to the wonderful people who put together the Khemorex Klinzhai! Website for the database on Klingon epithets and vocabulary. I would also like to acknowledge a favourite author, robst, who cited Alorkin's review on a story which provided a perfect description of the goblins: "… a combination of Ferengi and Klingon. They have a strict ethical moral code and they stick to it assiduously."
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