Chapter 2: The Headmaster and The Goblins

Later that same morning, Albus Dumbledore was standing in the dark and dreary kitchen of #12 Grimmauld Place. The Order of the Phoenix had not used it since Sirius's death as they were unsure who the current owner was. Dumbledore was here to test a theory, so he cast a lumos and the lights came on, which didn't help lighten the dark colored room much. "Kreacher," the old man called.

Seconds later there was a 'pop' and the much cleaner house elf stood in the kitchen.

"Kreacher, who is your new Master?" the Headmaster asked, stroking his long white beard.

Kreacher was silent as he glared at the Half-blood muggle-lover. His Mistress would hate the fact that he had to answer his call. He stood there with his arms folded, not talking as he had been ordered.

Dumbledore smiled. "Come now, Kreacher, you can tell me," he said in his grandfather voice.

Kreacher remained silent.

The retired professor raised an eyebrow. "Can you come with me, Kreacher?"

Again nothing was said by the somehow mute house elf as he stood firm, not communicating in anyway.

Albus sighed. There really was only one other way to test this and he left the house and with a 'crack' was gone. A few minutes later the brightly dressed old wizard was outside #4 Privet drive. He made his way to the front door and let himself in the house (not at all worried about the fact that he was breaking the law). He quietly went up the stairs, musing on the fact that the blood wards won't let anyone but Harry Apparate into the house. He was soon in front of Harry's room his eyebrows raised at all the locks. At least five hung from the door, but as they were not engaged, he paid no more attention to them.

The old man vaguely worried for a minute about young man's relatives and what they would do should he be discovered, but since it was quite early in the morning he knew they, and Harry, would be sound asleep so he shook it off. He opened the door to Harry's room and made his way to the young man's bed. Gently, the Headmaster shook him awake. "Harry, my boy, can you wake for just a moment?"

"Professor?" Harry asked upon waking as he grabbed his glasses off the nightstand, rather clumsily. His eyes widened at the fact that the Headmaster was in his room, judging from the lack of light it must still be night. When does he sleep? He wondered.

"Yes, Harry. Shhh, we do not want to wake your relatives," Dumbledore said softly as he waved his wand and cast a ward to keep the noise in the room. He then conjured himself a comfy, floral chair and sat down. The old man watched as the young man yawned widely, not at all disturbed that he woke someone so early.

"What time is it?" Harry asked quietly. His eyelids fluttered and opened as he awoke, having only just gone to sleep a few hours earlier. He struggled to sit up in his bed, rubbed his eyes under his glasses, to help with get the sleep out so he could see the early morning intruder.

"Just past 4 a.m., my boy," Albus answered brightly, as if it was perfectly normal to break into someone's house and wake them up at that time. "I apologize for waking you, my boy, but I was wondering if you would do something for me. You see the Order is not using Sirius's old place as we are unsure who owns it. The next in line for the Black family is Draco Malfoy. However, Sirius might have insured it so that you own Grimmauld Place, if simply to keep it out of the hands of the Malfoys. To test if this is the case, I was hoping you would call Kreacher to you," he requested with a twinkle in his blue eyes.

"What would that prove? I mean, he comes when anyone calls," Harry asked in confusion as he avoided looking at the Headmaster with a very convincing yawn, not wanting the old man to read his mind. I don't think I should let him know about Sirius's letter. He might try and stop me from going to the will reading. Well, that and Sirius said some unkind things about the man.

"While that is very true, Harry, your godfather may have left you the house and Kreacher with it. If this is so then Kreacher would have to do as you say. So I would like you call him here and order him to do something and he if he obeys then we will know that it was fact. Would you do this for me?" the old man stroked his beard and peered over his half-moon spectacles.

"You do know, sir, I despise that vile house elf. I'm dead sure he feels the same," the young man said, narrowing his eyes at the old man's crooked nose. 'Wonder why he never got that fixed,' came the non-sequestered thought.

The Headmaster smile gently and said, "I know, my dear boy, all the more reason for you to call him. If he does what you say, knowing how each of you feels, then there will be no doubt."

"Yeah, that might work. Kreacher," Harry called softly, not daring to attempt anything louder.

With a familiar 'pop', Kreacher appeared. "Half-blood scum is calling Kreacher."

"Shut it, Kreacher," Harry said as he jabbed his finger at the old elf's chest. "I want you to… clean my room," he demanded, grasping the first thing to come to his half-awake mind.

"Kreacher must do as Master says." And with a snap of his fingers the room straightened itself out and was very clean. There wasn't much to do anyway; the Dursleys almost never gave him anything worth keeping. And he didn't dare spend money on anything in fear they would find out about his vault.

"Go back to what you were doing, Kreacher." And with a glare and another 'pop', Kreacher was gone. "Did that answer your question, sir?" Harry asked, this time looking just above the Headmasters right ear.

"Indeed it did, my boy. We now know you own Grimmauld Place. This is very good news indeed." The Headmaster's face lit up with pleasure. "Do you suppose we could still use it for Order meetings and a safe haven, Harry? I promise, we will endeavor to keep the place in order," he asked, quite satisfied with these findings.

"Of course, sir. Do you know when I can go there? I'd like to leave here as soon as possible." The young man stopped, as if in thought. "Do you know when the will reading is, sir?" he asked, wanting to see if the old man would answer.

"I feel one more week here should do it for the blood wards. Alas, I do not know the exact date for the reading. But do not worry too much about it, Harry. I will stand in your stead and inform you of what you need to know," Dumbledore said in his grandfather voice. It was a tone of voice that Harry quickly found himself coming to hate.

"I'd like to be there anyway, sir. I've a right to know. I'll be very upset if I can't attend," Harry stated firmly.

Dumbledore seemed to be in thought for a moment, once more stroking his beard. "I will see what I can do, Harry. Unfortunately, I can make no promises. Now, I will take my leave and you can try and sleep the remainder of the morning," Albus said and with a pat on Harry's hand, he stood, waved his wand to drop the ward. Then once again and the chair disappeared. Then he left exactly the way he had come.

Want to bet he doesn't try all that hard? Harry glared bitterly at retreating man's head before seeing the need to get to the bank by himself. Well I'll just have to find my own way, he thought firmly. Then he sat up further and called, "Dobby."

A softer 'pop' and Dobby was there. "What can Dobby be doing for the Great Harry Potter?" said the excitable house elf. Dobby looked absolutely giddy to have been summoned twice in the same night.

"Dobby, I need to go to Gringotts. Can you take me there, please?" the young wizard asked quietly, getting up from his bed.

"Dobby can be doing that. Did yous want to be going now, sir?" the tiny house elf said, bouncing on his feet.

"Yeah, let me get my key and cloak and I'll be ready," the now wide-awake teen said, and with that he went to his trunk, scrounged around and pulled out his Invisibility Cloak. A few moments more came up with his key. I really need to clean this trunk out, he thought and then he looked at his newly acquired house elf, and he was suddenly struck with an idea. "Hey, do you think you could clean and organize my trunk for me?"

"Dobby is happy to be doing this for Harry Potter, sir," With a snap of his long spindly fingers everything from the trunk was on the bed. Another snap all the broken quills, torn parchment and cracked ink bottles were lifted and banished. Another snap and all the clothes folded themselves, parchments rolled and tied themselves and quills and ink bottles were put in their boxes. Another snap and everything was put back into the trunk in an orderly fashion. All that was left on the bed was the broken mirror Sirius had given Harry and the Sneakoscope Ron got him from Egypt. "What does Harry Potter want to be doing with these? Dobby can fix the mirror, sir."

"No," Harry sighed sadly at the mirror. "Leave it." He gathered his cloak and attempted to put his key into his pocket. It was then that he realized he was still in his nightclothes. "Hold on while I get dressed," with that he went to his wardrobe. "Will Gringotts be open this early?"

"Yes sir, Harry Potter, sir. They is being open all hours."

"Good to know." Getting dressed in Dudley's old clothes, he turned to grab his cloak and key off the bed where he had left them.

"Harry Potter, yous cannot be going out like that," the horrified house elf said.

"What, why?" Harry said, looking down at his oversized raggedy clothes. Dudley's tee shirt had become old and faded, and it still hung off of his skinny arms. The jeans were held up only by a hand-me-down belt and had a hole in the left knee. The trainers on Harry's feet seemed to be the only thing that fit correctly, and even then it was a somewhat loose fit. "Sorry, Dobby, but these are the best clothes I've got and it's not like I can go shopping," he shrugged and started to gather up his cloak.

"Dobby is sorry, sir, but Harry Potter is needing new clothes. Dobby can fix these if Harry Potter is wanting," Dobby offered, pulling his ears until Harry grabbed his hands gingerly.

"Stop that, it looks like it hurts. If you can make these look better, go ahead." He waved his hand in a relenting manner.

With a look of determination, Dobby snapped his fingers and the clothes became cleaner, mended themselves seamlessly and started to shrink. The shrinking stopped just when the clothes fit snuggly on Harry's frame. The hole in the jeans was gone. The ghastly belt no longer needed and was banished. The shoes fit better as well. The shirt looked like new and the green color was renewed. "That is being better Harry Potter," the little elf nodded in satisfaction.

Putting his key in his front pocket, his wand in his back pocket and his cloak on his arm, Harry turned to Dobby with a grateful smile and said, "Thanks, buddy, you're the best. Come on, let's go."

Dobby was near hysterical with happiness at the new nickname, he grabbed his master's hand and with a 'pop' they were gone. When the spinning stopped and Harry picked himself up off the ground, he noticed they were outside of Gringotts Bank. He quickly put on his cloak, cursing the fact that he didn't put it on beforehand. He took a look around to see if anyone noticed him. However, due to the early hour the streets of Diagon Alley were all but empty. Heaving a sigh of relief, he moved toward the bank.

"Dobby, go ahead back to Grimmauld Place and wait for my call, okay? Since I know that the Headmaster is up, why don't you and Winky go and talk to him," the invisible teen softly ordered.

"Yes sir, Harry Potter sir. We will be doing that." And with a pop the tiny house elf was gone.

Harry entered the large imposing bank, the spacious white lobby was mostly empty, there were only a few night-dwellers seen. Harry was pretty sure one was a vampire. He looked cautiously at the other dark cloaked figures as he crept up to the first teller. When he got there he parted his hood showing only his face. "I know it's early, but I'd like to talk to or make an appointment to see Ragnot, please," he whispered, glancing worriedly around to see if anyone was paying attention to the disembodied voice. They weren't.

"Key, please," the goblin sneered, not even bothering to keep his voice down.

Harry looked into the beady eyes of the goblin and realized he was only doing his job. Hagrid had told him once that they were clever as they come. This remembrance felt like a touch of a warning. Digging into his pocket, he pulled out his key and dropped it on the counter. He kept himself covered from sight with his cloak, sending a nervous glance to the figure he was sure was a vampire. The being took no notice of him. Great, I'm becoming paranoid, he thought, turning his attention back to the teller.

"Ragnot is a very busy individual. I will see if he can meet with you. Wait on the bench by that door over there," the goblin said as he pointed to a stone bench by a large double door. He then hopped off his stool and made his way to the same door.

Harry went to the ornately decorated bench and sat down, looking once more around his pristine surroundings that was known as Gringotts Bank. To his dismay, his tummy grumbled and he thought that maybe he should have eaten something before he left and wondered if he would be back before he was missed. Some of the patrons looked up at the noise, but not seeing anything went about their business. Harry kept a close eye on them, making sure he made no more noise than he could help.

After about a fifteen minute wait, the goblin returned and motioned him to follow. After walking down a long hallway with many doors in all shapes and sizes, they come to the end where another set of double doors stood. The goblin, who never gave his name, opened the doors and announced, "Harry Potter to see you, sir." Setting Harry's key on the desk, he turned and walked out of the office.

"Ah, Harry Potter, I was wondering when you would come and see about your account. But, I have to wonder, why you would ask to see me and not your account manager. Excuse me for a minute," said the goblin behind the large wooden desk, who Harry assumed to be Ragnot. He then turned his attention back to the paperwork he was hurrying to finish.

The teen removed his cloak and looked at the goblin who spoke. This goblin appeared older and perhaps… kinder than the ones he usually met in the lobby. Maybe it was because he didn't deal with wizards on a daily basis. Ragnot was dressing in a Muggle type business suit, like most Gringotts goblins, which was a little old-fashion, but very neat and sharp.

The head goblin glanced up at the young wizard. Then he focused back on his paperwork. He only needed to sign his name on a few more, and then he could give the nervous young man standing in his doorway his full attention. It was the only reason he was here this early in the morning, paperwork waits for no wizard or goblin.

"I didn't even know I had an account manager," Harry explained, nervously shifting from foot to foot wondering if he should just take a seat. "The only experience I've had with Gringotts is when I take money from my vault for school. I was told to ask for you in a letter from my adopted father Sirius Black. He said there might be a block on my magic core. He said my dad, James, put one on me as a baby and he doesn't think it was ever removed. So he suggested I ask for you and that you might arrange for a healer." The quill that Ragnot had been using stopped and the goblin met the wizard's gaze. "Why would he want me to see one of your healers, I mean how do you even know how to treat humans?" he asked curiously, hoping not to offend the goblin.

"You have never met your account manager?" Ragnot asked as his brow furrowed slightly, looking troubled at this development, ignoring the other questions for now. He waved the young man closer.

"No, sir." Harry shook his head as he walked closer to the desk that dominated the middle of the room.

"Have you ever received your account statements? Do you even know your account balance?" the head goblin inquired, placing the quill completely down and focusing on the dark haired wizard. He gestured for young man to sit in the rather hard looking chair in front of the desk.

Harry sat in the chair and was quite surprised to find it comfortable. "No, sir, I know that there is quite a bit of gold in my vault, but I've never thought to ask how much. It seemed to always be enough to cover my school expenses," he replied with a shrug.

"Tell me, Mr. Potter," the manager said, folding his hands together and placing them front of him, leaning forward slightly, "how much fan mail have you received this year? How much hate mail did you receive last year when the Daily Prophet was defaming you?"

"I'm sorry, sir, I am confused. The only owl post I get is from my friends and Hogwarts. Sirius's house elf, Kreacher, brought me the letter," Harry answered, scratching his head in thought. "Well, I did get some letters after my interview with the Quibbler, but that's it," he reiterated, now that he thought about it. "What do you think is going on, sir?"

"Well, Mr. Potter, it would seem someone is interfering with your post," Ragnot said, sitting back in his chair and putting his folded hands to rest against his chest in a thoughtful manner. "There may be a charm that diverts all but specific letters. Though, if you say you got some last year then maybe it is breaking down." He rubbed his pointy chin in thought. "Someone as popular as you, should be screening post every day of your life. If you are not answering your letters it would explain why the public was so easily turned last year. For a fee, we can find and remove this charm. We have healers that work on humans," he said, finally answering Harry's previous questing. "They remove curses and charms from our wizard curse breakers. I am sure we can get one to see you."

"Yeah… yeah, let's do that," Harry said as he rubbed the back of his head. "Do I even have enough money to cover that? Can we look for the block on my magic at the same time?" he asked what he thought were the important questions.

With all the hate mail Hermione received in their fourth year when the Prophet called a scarlet woman —said she was cheating on Harry with Viktor Krum, which of course is ridiculous— it would make sense that Harry would receive more. With all the fame he had he should have been receiving fan mail all his life. Should I be angry at whoever limited my post? Then again, if I got owls my whole life, the Dursleys would have hated me more, maybe, or they would have been more scared that I was famous or tried to use me. I think instead of hating that person, I'll thank them. He was pulled out of his musing when the older goblin answered him.

With a greedy glint in his eye, Ragnot nodded. "Yes, I'm sure you have enough money to cover this; yes, we can look for the block you believe you have. Let me see who I can find this early in the morning to solve all of these issues. While you wait, do you wish to see what your account entails?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'd like to know. Do you know who I'd talk to about my godfather's will? He gave me a copy so I know what it says, but I don't think that Dumbledore is going to get me to the reading. Is there any way I can have it read to me now and then you can have a public reading later?" Harry asked. He didn't know if that was the way to go about it. He had never been to a will reading.

Ragnot rang a bell on his desk and young goblin scurried into the office. "Bring me the Potter account manager. Find out which healer is available right now. Find out who is in charge of the Black accounts and have them bring Sirius Black's will and account ledger here immediately," he barked out orders.

The young goblin bowed and rushed out the office to complete the demands.

Looking back to the young man, the bank manager said, "We shall see what we can do about the reading. It is all in the details of the will. If it says that everyone named in the will must attend the reading for it to be fulfilled, then you cannot have a separate reading. Do you have your copy with you?"

"No, I didn't think to bring it," Harry said sheepishly, but after being woken by Headmaster, he wasn't at his best. "I didn't even know I was coming until I talked to Dumbledore about a half an hour ago and he made it quite clear that he wouldn't be helping me get to the reading," he answered, putting more thought into the matter. If he ever found out that Harry was doing this behind his back… "Do you think he'll try and suppress this reading? I know he was in charge of my parents' will. Do you have their will? I was told to ask that as well." There was worry in those green eyes now at the thought that Dumbledore would curtail his nonexistent plans.

Ragnot looked thoughtful. "If, as you say, the will was suppressed then there might be little that we can do to have it read and implemented. But I will have someone look into it. I am unsure if we have a copy of your parents wills. I will ask your account manager. However, if they used a solicitor than we may not have a copy and it might be one of the reasons why it was suppressed so easily. Gringotts is above many of the Ministry's manipulations, whereas a solicitor is not," the bank manager explained to the confused teen.

"Oh yeah, okay. Not that it really matters, I guess, I'm pretty sure all but a few people in those wills are dead or on the run. I really don't know everyone my parents knew. But, there should be some bequest to friends and such. I do know they thought a lot of Remus Lupin and they'd've left him something. I hate to think that people didn't get what was left to them," Harry said, frowning at that thought.

A goblin entered the office without even knocking, causing Ragnot's eyebrows to rise. "You wanted to see me, Ragnot." The goblin bowed to the head goblin, then noticed Harry and sneered.

"Yes, Spearhead, this is Harry Potter. Mr. Potter, this is your account manager Spearhead," Ragnot gestured to the other goblin, deciding to ignore the breach of etiquette since there was a wizard in the office, he would address that later.

"Pleasure. Can I ask how long you've been the Potter manager?" Harry asked, not really liking how this goblin was acting towards him. I mean really, he reminds me of Snape.

"I have been in charge of the Potter accounts for the last fourteen years," Spearhead answered, puffing up importantly.

Harry's brows furrowed in thought, Could it possibly be…? He thought, and then brought his attention back to the self-important goblin. "Oh, who was the account manager before you and what happened to him?" Harry inquired, thinking it was bit unusual that the account manager would change around the same time his parents died.

"I do not know who the manager was before me. I do know I was asked to be the account manager by Albus Dumbledore, after he became your magical guardian," Spearhead answered as he straighten up with pride.

"What?" Ragnot bellowed, slamming both fist on his desk with great force as he rose to his full height, making both Harry and Spearhead shrink back. Although a mere four feet in stature, the furious goblin was now the most dangerous person in the room. "Since when does a wizard control what goes on in this bank? I am in charge here!" He rang the bell again.

When the young goblin entered, the angry goblin snapped out orders, "Find out who the last account manager of the Potter account was and bring him here immediately. I want to know why a change in management happened without proper procedure."

The young goblin left quickly.

"We will find out what is going on Mr. Potter. Know that this is very irregular," the bank manager continued in a calmer voice, until he turned to the goblin that had spiked his ire in the first place. "Spearhead," he snarled, "I want a complete audit of the Potter accounts and I want them on my desk in ten minutes and if you tell anyone of this meeting –I will not be pleased."

The now pale Spearhead left in a hurry to complete his task, not daring to defy the head goblin.

"Do you think there is anything wrong with my accounts?" Harry asked tentatively, not wanting to anger the now seemingly calmer goblin. The fact that it was Dumbledore was controlling the strings again didn't particularly please him. No, right now, he was more than a little annoyed with the meddlesome magic user.

"There better not be or heads will roll," the grumpy goblin threatened, slumping back in his chair, face scrunched up in anger. Harry had a feeling this threat was all-too-real.

They both waited, each in deep thought. Harry was thinking about his parents and Sirius's wills, hoping that there was some connection to his past in the form of missives. Ragnot was thinking about how something like this could happen in his bank without his knowledge, how far the damage extended, and what they could do to repair it. The young goblin from before came in and let them know that the Black account manager was there. Ragnot told him to have them wait.

After about eight minutes Spearhead returned with the account ledgers. He slowly walked up to the still irate elder and handed him the book.

"Go and sit over there until I've gone over this with Mr. Potter. There better not be any discrepancies in this account or it will come out of your hide," Ragnot threatened, snatching the book from his hands and pointing to a chair on the other side of the office.

The still pale goblin complied.

"Let us see what has been going on with your account Mr. Potter. If what you say is true then there should be little activity in the last fourteen years." Looking through the ledger Ragnot saw that there was indeed little activity. There was only the yearly withdrawal for the retainer from the law office the late Potters had used, school supplies, tuition, and deposits from investments. "Spearhead, you are indeed lucky that there is no skimming going on. Now, what I would like to know is how Albus Dumbledore got you appointed to the account manager without my knowledge." Ragnot turned his frightening glare onto the scared Spearhead.

"D… D…Dumbledore came to me stating that he needed a g…goblin in charge of the account that would keep him up to date with withdrawals and d…deposits. Since, he was Mr. P…Potter's magical guardian I saw nothing wrong with the appointment. I did not know it was without your approval," Spearhead stuttered, his tone of voice rightfully fearful.

Ragnot huffed angrily, "Next time…," he waved his hand, "… actually there better not be a next time. If anyone outside this bank approaches you, you will verify any task they give you with me. You know the procedures for this bank and they are there for a reason. You will stop all reports going to Dumbledore as they are not authorized by this bank. Since there is nothing wrong with the account you may remain the manager. I demand to see all investments for the account and for going against bank policies you will be paying for Mr. Potter's healer this day, out of your own pocket."

Harry went to protest, but a hand with large nails belonging to an angry goblin halted whatever he was about to say.

"No, Mr. Potter, he will pay. He knew what he was doing was against policy. He will do this as reparation or he will forfeit his position."

Spearhead nodded, being very thankful that he did not steal from the account as that would have been worth a beheading.

Harry was also glad that no foul play had happened to his accounts. He settled back into his chair and let the goblins hash this out.

"Do we have the Potters' wills? If we do, why were they not read and executed?" Ragnot demanded, just remembering the teen's question.

Spearhead answered swiftly, "We do not have the Potters wills nor do we have a copy. They filed it with the family solicitor. I am unsure of his name, the ledger only shows the company name, but I can look up that information if it is needed, sir."

"Yes, look it up and contact them. Inquire about the wills. Have a report on my desk tomorrow at the latest," Ragnot said and he glanced to the door as a knock was heard and he waved for Spearhead to stay. "Enter."