Chapter 4: Goblin Diplomacy

Harry had left the others at Florean Fortescue’s citing errands, eager to speak to George alone and find out how he was going before the others caught up. He was also pretty eager to escape Ron and Neville’s sniggering.

As he entered the luridly decorated “Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes” he nodded to Verity behind the counter and found George sitting in his usual pose in the stockroom, head in his hands. Harry hung back but George caught sight of him approaching before he had time to turn and leave.

“Don’t go,” George called, “come and join me.”

Harry walked over as George stood to greet him. George’s eyes were dry but his face looked quite worn, betraying the toll that the last couple of months had taken. He seemed to manage a laugh at the smear of ice cream across Harry’s cheek.

Wiping at his face, Harry spoke, “How are you going, George?”

“Yeah, not too bad I guess. Ginny has been more or less keeping me alive. She’s pretty great, you know.”

Harry looked quizzically at the tall red-head. “You realise you’re preaching to the choir, don’t you mate?”

“Ah, ickle Harrikins! In love!” George crowed, leaving Harry to search desperately over his shoulder making sure that the others hadn’t arrived to hear this. “So when are you finally going to sort things out between you?”

Harry decided to indulge George’s matchmaking on the strength that he was having a hard time. It was a nice change to have a Weasley so enthusiastic about seeing him pursue their sister. He also thought he might have stumbled upon a sure-fire way to discern exactly what Ginny’s feelings were for him. His conviction that she wasn’t ready for their relationship to move forward had been somewhat shaken by Ginny’s declaration at Florean Fortescue’s, but the more affirmation he could get, the better.

“Have you… um… asked her about it?” Harry asked, trying to keep his voice casual.

George’s eyes widened in terror, “Oh no, mate. Wouldn’t dream of bringing it up. You still haven’t been on the pointy end of that Bat-Bogey Hex of hers, have you?” He shuddered. “Keep it that way, mate.”

Harry was annoyed, “So why are you so sure that I should try to make something happen?”

“Keep your hair on, Harry,” George laughed. “As if it isn’t bleeding obvious! Anyway, this little visit is really good timing on your part. Early this morning I went and talked a few things over with my business partner at his new premises,” George waved a hand at a photograph of him and Fred on the mantelpiece, “I need to have a word with you. We have some money related matters to discuss.”

“Do you need more money?” Harry asked. “I’m your biggest fan, George. How much do you need?”

George chuckled, “You’re a champ to offer, Harry, not that I’d expect anything less from the Saviour of the World, but just in case you’ve forgotten, you’re already our number one shareholder. Or has it slipped your mind that you provided every last cent of our start-up capital?” George grimaced, “Bloody Bagman! Anyway, this time I don’t want to take money from you, I want to give it to you! You made an investment in us, Harry, in Fred and I, when all of this was just a dream for us.” His voice quietened, “You made it possible for Fred to spend the last few years of his life doing something that he loved and finally being able to contribute to his family.”

Harry started to interrupt, but George held up a hand to silence him. “We really want you to accept the dividends of our profit that are due to you, just like a real shareholder. We’re not going to take no for an answer.” He smiled. “And Harry?” His voice lowered to a whisper, “It’s a hell of a lot of profit!”

Harry contemplated George for a minute before answering. “Can I layout some sort of plan for my dividends? A plan that you’d have to obey seeing as it comes from your largest shareholder?”

“Sure – list your requests!”

“Ok,” Harry paused thoughtfully and then took a deep breath. “Fifty percent of my income is to go directly back into Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes and is to be considered the profit of the company itself, not the shareholders. You can use it to do whatever you want – hire ten new members of staff, research new product lines, start an apprenticeship program if you like! Whatever you want to do, fifty percent of any profit of mine is given as a gift, not an investment mind you, a gift, to your company.” George looked at Harry for a moment before grasping him into a huge hug.

“Ok,” he said as he pulled away, “What about the other fifty percent?”

“George, the second half of my plan will require every bit of craftiness you’ve got.”

Looking like he needed the challenge, George’s eyes twinkled, “What are you up to, Potter?”

Ginny, who had rolled her eyes and parted company from Ron and Neville when they ordered their third sundae, watched her brother and Harry through the shop window intrigued as to what it was that made her brother embrace Harry so fiercely. But the significance of that particular gesture soon paled in comparison to what she saw in her brother’s reaction to whatever Harry said next. By the time Harry had finished explaining whatever it was he was explaining, Harry was laughing and George had pretended to collapse at his feet in a faint. Ginny’s curiosity was piqued but she had no way to work out what was going on.

Spying Ginny through the shop window, George sprang to his feet, beckoned her inside, but then cast a muffilato charm so that he and Harry could finish the rest of their conversation privately. Harry smiled at her apologetically. George had turned Harry to face her, talking rapidly and occasionally indicating in her direction. Ginny tried to focus her attention on the products lining the shelves but she couldn’t help occasionally flicking her eyes over to look at them as George finished whatever it was that he said to Harry. After a few minutes, Ginny was surprised to see Harry now grab her brother in a fierce hug before pulling back and offering his hand for George to shake. They shook hands warmly before George ended the charm leaving Harry standing there, very red in the face and looking a bit shell-shocked.

As George sauntered past Ginny he gave her a particularly knowing wink and affectionately patted Fred’s photo on his way back to the counter.

Ginny turned and watched him continue to saunter off, whistling cheerily as he went, a very different picture to the George she had seen the night before. She turned back to see Harry shaking his head in a mystified way as he wandered vaguely over to browse the brightly coloured display of Skiving Snackboxes. She’d have to deal with that next. Her brother was her first port of call.

She sidled up to the counter and smiled hopefully at the tall, pale red-head.

“Hey Georgie,” she began winsomely.

George looked at her flatly. “What are you after?”

“Ok, ok, alright. Straight to the point then,” Ginny laughed. “It’s probably for the best – you’ve never been particularly susceptible to my charm. Well, I need a job and I can’t think of anyone that I would rather have order me around than my favourite joke-shop owner. Do you think you could employ me for about a week? I’ll do anything!”

George’s expression did not change for a moment and then he raised one eyebrow suspiciously.

“And what could have brought on this sudden desire to enter the world of the waged, Gin?”

“Must I tell you all my secrets? Can’t I just be saving up for an unidentified object?”

George laughed, “Not with me around, my dear. Spill it!”

Ginny lowered her voice to obey, “Well, there’s...” She rolled her eyes. “Is telling you this really a condition of my employment?”

George narrowed his eyes but retained his amused expression, “Absolutely.”

“Ok,” Ginny hissed. “I want to have enough money to buy Harry an amazing birthday present and right now I have absolutely nothing. Satisfied?”

“Your job starts at nine am sharp tomorrow morning,” George responded smiling.

Ginny whooped with delight until George spoke again. “Oh and Ginny,” he called out, “Bring earmuffs and some dragon-hide gloves will you? I’m going to start you re-potting my little mandrake crop in the basement.”

Harry was drawn back to the counter by Ginny’s short-lived triumph and she was reminded of the scene she’d witnessed on her entrance to the store.

“You looked a bit shaken before, Harry. What has George got you into? Are you going to be in trouble?” she demanded as he drew near.

“Your brother is a good man, Gin!” he replied in mock surprise “What trouble could he possibly get me into?” But she noticed that even behind the jesting, Harry had a new, softer way of looking into her eyes and she decided that perhaps George wasn’t up to no good in this particular case.

“What about you?” Harry enquired smiling. “Are you going to be in trouble?”

“Oh probably,” Ginny laughed. “I will if he has anything to do with it!” She nodded in the direction of her new employer.

“Ah!” George cried, spotting Ron and Neville as they entered the shop. “Custom! How can I help you fine gents?”

Ron looked surprised at his brother’s cheerful demeanor. “Alright, George?”

“Alright, mate,” George responded quickly. “Right, out the back, the lot of you. Shonky business dealings are only to be discussed in the stock room. Can’t have you frightening away the patrons!”

Harry, Ron, Neville and Ginny obediently traipsed through to the back of the store and Ron performed the second muffilato charm the shop had seen that morning.

Ginny’s eyes narrowed. “Alright, what’s all this about? I’ve only been told that I’m meant to look innocent. That smacks of the more dangerous kind of scheme as far as I’m concerned.”

“Yeah,” Neville joined in. “This bloody sword is getting a bit difficult to conceal in my trousers. What are we in for?”

Harry and Ron exchanged glances. “Go on, Ron. Talk us through your predicament and then I’ll talk us through the plan.”

Ron turned a bit pink and swallowed.

“Come on, mate,” Harry encouraged. “You’re amongst friends here.”

Ron’s ears burned as he launched into the story of Hermione’s situation and his intention to go to her rescue. Neville, ever the hopeless romantic, was clearly moved by the tale, sniffling suspiciously into his handkerchief as Ron concluded. Ginny looked highly amused at her brother’s gradual emotional development and patted him condescendingly on the knee.

“Right,” Harry interjected. “So here’s the tricky bit. The last visit Ron, Hermione and I paid to Gringotts left the place a little bit worse for wear. I don’t imagine that the goblins will be all that happy to see us back. What I’m proposing is a two-pronged attack.”

“Attack?” Neville’s voice sounded a couple of registers higher than usual.

“Ok, poor choice of words,” Harry acceded. “We should emphasise that this is really more of a peace keeping mission than anything else.”

“So which prong am I?” Ginny demanded, looking a little bit dangerous.

“Ah, erm, well… Seeing as you weren’t involved in the original dragon incident, we thought you might be willing to take responsibility for making first contact with the goblins?” Harry responded tentatively. “It’s actually the whole first prong.” He looked a bit embarrassed. “Essentially, Ginny, we need you to get us out of trouble.”

“Which boils down to?” Ginny left the question hanging and tapped her foot impatiently.

“Look sweet and innocent and ask for Griphook?”

Ginny looked sceptical. “Is that all?”

Ron laughed at his sister. “Are you relieved or disappointed?”

“Not sure,” she murmured smiling. “This is a little too reminiscent of all the times my loving older brothers used to send me in to Mum first in an attempt to butter her up before she found out what they’d been up to. In my experience it usually involved bearing the brunt of any oncoming wrath.”

Harry laughed humourlessly. “If there is any wrath, and I hope there won’t be too much, I can guarantee that they’ll save it for Ron and me.”

“What about the sword?” Neville asked, hoisting the enormous ruby-encrusted silver weapon out of the waistband of his pants.

“That’s our bargaining chip,” Harry responded. “Is that ok, mate? You know you’ve only got it until the next Gryffindor in a pickle asks for help, right?”

“Yeah, no worries,” Neville responded quickly. “I’m sick of Gran making me get it out every time she has friends round for tea.”

“Right,” Harry declared confidently and the four put their heads together to tease out the finer details of the plan.

***

About half an hour later, still sustained by their ice cream lunch, the four Gryffindors harnessed all of their courage and surveyed the enormous gleaming white establishment that was Gringotts Wizarding Bank. The burnished bronze front doors, left in such disarray by the dragon, had since been replaced. Ginny mounted the marble steps fearlessly causing Harry’s heart to swell with pride and she passed the probe-wielding wizards without incident. Harry assumed that the continued war-time security measures were an attempt to engender renewed confidence in the patrons after news of the break-in got out. Before the front doors swung closed, Harry caught a glimpse of Ginny making her way confidently though the silver doors at the end of the inner hall and entering the vast marble hall of the bank.

Ginny approached the long counter manned by goblins sitting on high stools and stepped up to the first one available.

“How may I help you?” the old goblin asked.

“I’d like to see Griphook, please,” Ginny responded calmly.

“One moment.” The old goblin clapped his hands and another elderly goblin approached. “Fetch Griphook. This young lady would like to speak with him.”

After a short pause, yet another goblin came into view studying Ginny curiously. He motioned for her to follow him over to a section of the bench with an empty stool and he clambered up to the high seat before addressing her.

“Have we met, Miss er?”

“Weasley,” Ginny replied politely. “You enjoyed the hospitality of my brother, Bill, and his wife, Fleur, a few months ago. You also assisted my other brother, Ron, and my friends, Hermione Granger and Harry Potter in their recent, err, visit to Gringotts.”

Griphook was looking around nervously and leaned in closer to whisper his next question. “What do you want? I’d prefer my role in that incident not to become public knowledge if it can be avoided.”

Ginny lowered her voice, but only marginally, causing Griphook to wince in fear. “Harry and Ron are waiting outside with another friend of ours, another Gryffindor in fact, Neville Longbottom. You may have noticed that the sword of Godric Gryffindor is no longer in the possession of the goblins.”

“Yes, yes,” Griphook hissed, waving his hand dismissively. “It seems like that’s out of our power. I hope that your friends are not intending to enter the bank today. That might be unwise of them.”

“Well actually,” Ginny replied, “that is exactly what they are intending to do. And that,” she smiled sweetly, “is why we will need your help.”

Griphook swayed precariously on his high stool and wiped his hand across his perspiring brow. “That isn’t advisable,” he whispered.

“Of course it is!” Ginny replied smiling. “Harry, Ron and Neville are right outside this very minute and they have the sword of Gryffindor to return to you. Harry has an urgent need to visit his vault and, as the Saviour of the World, he does you the great honour of requesting that you personally accompany him and guarantee him no personal harm. May I also remind you that Harry is a very close personal friend of Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minister for Magic? Mr Shacklebolt is of course aware of the necessity of Harry’s last visit to Gringotts, as you also must have been, being such a willing participant in the scheme.”

Griphook looked even more ill. “No personal harm will come to him. The Ministry has already been quite aggressive about the policy we are to adopt towards Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger. An unannounced visit, however. I will have to discuss this with my superiors.”

“That,” replied Ginny, “would be lovely.

The goblin looked broken and Ginny felt extremely pleased with herself. “Why don’t you go and chat to your superiors, and I’ll head out and fetch Harry, Ron and Neville.”

“Err, yes, but why don’t you wait out there until I come out and fetch you?” Griphook stammered.

“No, I don’t think so, Griphook. I shall bring them straight in.”

Griphook had already leapt off his stool and was running for the central desk before Ginny had finished her sentence. She was surprised at just how much she had enjoyed herself.

Harry, Ron and Neville loitered nervously outside the bronze doors of the bank, waiting for Ginny’s reappearance. In what seemed like almost no time, her smiling face reappeared round the door, shining in triumph.

“Come in, I’m pretty sure you’re safe,” she laughed. “Griphook is terrified!”

Harry could see the nervous wreck of a goblin approaching them from inside the building. “Gin! What did you do to him?”

“Nothing at all,” she replied in feigned shock, unable to suppress her triumphant grin. “Anyway, it seems like Kingsley may have already cleared the way for you. Doesn’t mean the goblins like it though!”

The four humans made their way through the bank observed by an extremely hostile crowd of goblins, which grew as more and more came out from behind their desks and from hidden rooms to stare. Just as the crowd reached its menacing capacity, Neville ostentatiously swung Gryffindor’s sword into view and presented it to Griphook.

A grudging murmur of approval seemed to ripple through the crowd. Many of the goblins accepted this as a fitting tribute and stepped away, leaving only the angriest watching on.

Griphook presented the sword to a wizened old goblin sitting behind a grand desk. He examined the sword keenly and then nodded grudgingly towards Harry and his companions.

Harry finally let go of the breath he hadn’t realised he was holding as Griphook led the four of them towards one of the doors leading off the hall.

“Harry Potter,” Griphook stated simply, failing to acknowledge that anything had passed between them, “The contents of the Black Family vault, which were left entirely to you by Sirius Black, have now been assumed into your family vault. You wish to visit this vault in order to withdraw money? Do you have your key?”

“That’s correct. And yes, here’s my key.” Harry held out his key to the goblin, who took it, yet the wizard kept his hand extended towards him. “It’s good to see you again, Griphook, I’m glad to see that your burns have recovered,” Harry continued warmly.

Griphook surveyed the young wizard with the same quizzical look he had given him at Shell Cottage and then tentatively reached out his hand to shake Harry’s.

“You are an unusual wizard, Harry Potter.”

Griphook held the door open for the four friends, ushering them into the stone passageway dimly lit by flaming torches. At Griphook’s whistle, a cart appeared on the tracks and they all clambered in. The cart rocketed into the depths of the bank at break-neck speed and in almost no time, compared to Harry and Ron’s last visit, the cart stopped in front of a familiar small door in the passage wall.

Harry’s vault was not quite deep enough in the bowels of Gringotts to allow them to see any evidence of whether or not the goblins were struggling to break in their new dragon. Harry smiled, imagining the scorch marks all over the newly reconstructed walls.

Griphook and the others exited the cart and the goblin unlocked the vault door. Harry noted the audible gasp from Neville, Ron and especially from Ginny as the contents of his vault were revealed. The mounds of gold, columns of silver and heaps of little bronze Knuts Harry had seen in there seven years previously had been significantly expanded by his inheritance from Sirius and it was apparent to all observers that Harry was an extremely wealthy wizard.

“Ok,” said Harry, pulling a money pouch out of his pocket, “How much do we think Ron is going to need for his trip and for four aeroplane tickets from Sydney to London?”

Ron, Neville and Ginny looked stumped, having no concept at all of Muggle money or travel costs.

Griphook spoke up, “You’ll need at least three thousand five hundred Muggle pounds just for the travelling.”

Harry thought for a bit. “Well, we’d better get out the equivalent of five thousand pounds just in case Ron has any extra expenses.” Ron’s jaw seemed to be somewhere near his knees. “And can we convert all of that to Australian money?”

“Of course,” Griphook responded.

Neville and Ginny laughed at Ron who was shaking his head as if trying to clear water out of his ears. Though she managed to laugh, Ginny was also internally astounded at the riches she had heard of but now witnessed for herself. No wonder Harry had always been so generous whenever the tea-trolley had come by on the Hogwarts Express. Her family could only ever dream of having a vault so piled with gold.

“And I might just top up my own cash supply,” Harry murmured as he gathered a few handfuls of coins and tipped them into the pouch round his neck that Hagrid had given him for his seventeenth birthday. It was hard to believe that the relaxed little party at the The Burrow had been almost a year ago. Harry would turn eighteen before the week was out, Bill and Fleur would mark their first wedding anniversary and shortly after that, Ginny would come of age. None of these occasions would be marked with raucous celebration given the circumstances of the year, and he knew that neither he, Ginny, Bill or Fleur would want to make a fuss. However, he knew that some small celebrations would serve to help them all remember that life would go on, and he got the sense that George, at least, approved.

Harry remembered back, as he had done at least five times everyday all year, to the moment when Ginny had led him into her bedroom and given him the best birthday present he had ever received. He could feel his ears going red as he calculated the chances of receiving a similar present this year. Even if not, and he had to wait another eleven days, Harry had every intention of marking Ginny’s coming-of-age with an equally momentous gesture, but he also needed some money to buy her the kind of gift she could show to the rest of the family. That kiss had sustained him through a horrific year and he wanted to make sure that he conveyed his gratitude, and also his love, in his choice of birthday present.