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Harry stood sheepishly in front of the intimidating entrance to the Gringotts, trying to think of a plausible explanation for his actions during the war. The stone guards at the gates were looming over him particularly viciously today, and he was half-of-mind just to apparate away. And if not for a threat to his most loyal friend, he would have dumped the entire mess into someone else’s lap to try to clean up for once. The temptation to do so was almost overwhelming.
Unfortunately, he and Hermione, and thank Merlin she was currently in Australia retrieving her parents, broke in and out the bank, stole and ruined goblin-wrought treasures and one escaped on the back of one of the bank’s precious guardian dragons, before almost levelling the entire place when they had to fight through the vicious wards after that rat Griphook betrayed them.
Harry straightened his back, lifted his chin in a clear challenge and marched towards the entrance with a clear purpose written all over him. He would be lucky to escape with his life with how vicious the goblins were rumoured to be. And of course, Binns’ lessons, aka nap time for him and most of Hogwarts’ students, didn’t help their reputation in the slightest. But… If it saved Hermione from facing a similar fate, he would take their censure and punishment, pay for the damages and the replacement vault guardian. The goblin-wrought jewellery, well… It would be a hard nut to crack… They had to be destroyed, mostly because of Riddle, in his obscene desire to live forever, had befouled them with his soul. He had burnt remains with him, mostly to show them why they had to be destroyed, and hopefully, it would be enough for goblins to refrain from cutting off his head just on principle.
Harry pushed his magic against the formidable wards, and he was realizing how lucky they all were that the goblins didn’t have war wards raised when he and Hermione… hmmm… let’s call it… visited Bellatrix’s vault and… liberated the poor cup from the cesspool of dark magic that was that particular witch’s vault. The wards rippled and with a great groaning noise, the gates fell open for the first time in weeks.
The young wizard entered reluctantly, his unease with the entire situation mounting. The wizarding world was again pinning their hopes on him to resolve this entire situation for them. He was getting fed up with all of that nonsense and was seriously considering running after Hermione to Australia to beg her parents to take him in and never return to this island for as long as he lived. He agreed only after he realized that he might have played some kind of role in the latest mess, perhaps, not that he was going to disclose the secret to anyone anytime soon, or rather never, lest he ends up in Azkaban swifter than snatching a snitch from under Malfoy's nose.
Harry suspected it was most likely because of his Potter (un)luck that the bank closed its gates all over the world shortly after Riddle, ha, fell dead at his feet and refused to open until he, and everyone involved in the breaking and theft, presented themselves to the London branch. Which he refused, of course, because Hermione didn’t deserve to be hounded for something that had to be done for Riddle to be finally defeated. The bank was insistent in their attempts to contact him, bombarding him with letters, portkeys (which didn’t work in Grimmauld Place, thank Merlin for all of those paranoid old Blacks that warded that house up and down to the last brick), communication mirrors, etc. for weeks. He relented only after Hermione was out of the line of fire and more-or-less safely on the other side of the world tending to her parents.
The gates closed with a bang, trapping Harry inside with no way out. Immediately, he was surrounded by heavily armed guards, and he raised his hands in surrender, as not to provoke the goblins further to some hasty actions.
Only… There was something strange… Harry squinted. And yes, he was right. It was very strange. Instead of almost grotesque short beings, he was used to seeing on the rare occasions when he was allowed to make his own purchases and visited his vault for the required gold, in their places stood almost human-like beings, fairly radiating with the magic, armed to the teeth and they were prodding him somewhere.
Harry frowned. He could almost understand their language. They were whispering to each other, probably some orders or whatever, and shooting him glances eerily similar to the wizarding population whenever he appeared in the Diagon Alley. It was making him nervous. And edgy. Very edgy. Inconspicuously, he was gathering his magic little by little, to make an attempt to break out if the goblins tried anything.
Young wizard almost baulked at entering a forbidding door with a majestic inscription shimmering invitingly at him from the clearly enchanted wood. He hadn’t the best of luck with the magical objects; beginning with the Sorting Hat and ending with Riddle’s Horcruxes. He was unceremoniously shoved inside by his guards, almost stumbling inelegantly on a carpet. At the last moment, he regained his equilibrium before he made a spectacle of himself and ended face-plant on the ground.
The first glance around his surroundings made Harry adjust his robes self-consciously. If he thought the bank’s entrance was intimidating, well… it had nothing on the opulence of the office where he found himself, facing the stern face of a fierce warrior, clearly someone important, judging by the heaps of the luxury items haphazardly scattered in his space.
Hm… He should start calling them something else. In their current circumstances, the word goblin had an unpleasant flavour of an insult, eerily reminiscent of the word mudblood Malfoy so liked to fling around.
“Dverger, young wizard. We are called dverger.” The gravelly voice of probably-a-middle-aged gob… dverger stated as if reading his mind. Harry looked around suspiciously. He wouldn’t bet on it that the intimidating male staring him down from his seat behind the desk, wasn’t employing some kind of mind-reading. Harry was more than done with anyone violating the privacy of his thoughts willy-nilly. He was ready to give the warrior a piece of his mind, no matter the consequences when the dverger stood up and bowed.
“Vakr, at your service.” The dverger said what was probably some kind of greeting amongst his people.
“Harry Potter. At yours and your family’s.” Harry replied as soon as he gathered his wits; the correct greeting flowing from his tongue easily, although he had no idea previously how. The wizard shook his head and cursed impatiently, fed up with everything. “What the actual fuck is going on?”
Vakr smirked and offered a short explanation. “You broke the curse laid on my entire race ages ago. So, we decided to forgo the fees you owe the bank for your stunt several weeks ago.”
Harry rolled his eyes and snipped back. “That explains exactly nothing. Although, thanks for not robbing me blind.”
The dverger snapped his fingers and an unfairly comfortable chair appeared in front of the desk, facing the other male. Harry took a seat with a sigh and listened to the suddenly serious Vakr. “Before the written history, this world was different. In a large part, it was ruled by a conclave of higher beings called Valar. I won't bore you with details, but let's just say, one of them decided he would like to rule the world.”
“Of course,” Harry remarked dryly. “I suppose it went as well as the entire war with the wizarding world’s latest dark lord.”
“Along the same lines.” Vakr allowed. “Only much worse. The war spanned millennia, plunging the entire world in the darkness with only brief lights of hope to encourage the alliance of all free races to rise against him and defeat him once for all. It was a Pyrrhic victory, as the last magical war devastated the entire world, rendering it inhabitable. The Valar deemed it unsalvageable and completely retreated into another plane of existence, together with their favourites - the elves. The slight we never forgot.” The dverger murmured darkly, glaring up at the ceiling as if daring the Valar to do something about his words.
The warrior’s words rang with an almost painful truth, the dverger revealed. “Fine. That was then. But... what does that ancient history have to do with me, for Merlin’s sake.” Harry demanded to know, as a heaviness in his stomach pointed to something big, concerning him.
“The Enemy, as the fallen Valar is known to us, had the last laugh. The magic released in the final confrontation raged freely on the planet, and several remaining tribes of dverger and men cowered in the caves, relentlessly getting attacked by the remnants of Enemy’s dark creatures. With no hope of salvation, our races made a desperate attempt to call for help. The exact details of the ritual weren’t preserved but our combined call caught the attention of the beings, nowadays known as Lady of Magic and Lord of Dead. Their combined power tamed the magic of this world and channelled it into some of our people. So, the deeply magical races sprung up into existence, calling Lady Helaine and Lord Athanasius their patrons.”
“But?” Harry asked, frowning mightily. It still didn’t explain the curse, he supposedly broke.
“But the Valar wasn’t happy with them encroaching on what they considered their territory.” Harry winced. That sentence didn’t bode well. He so hated when he was right, as Vakr continued. “As soon as they noticed the world was back in the order, its people alive and thriving, only under the guardianship of some upstarts, they tried to interfere.” The dverger took a deep breath, as he stared thoughtfully at the young wizard, almost a child that was forced to fight in a war that started long before his birth, and sighed. “Our Lady was greatly weakened after channelling that much power and the Valar used the weakness to attack. Our ancestors rose against heavy-handed Valar and got cursed for our troubles. However, it distracted Valar enough that the combined sacrifice of Lady Helaine and her husband forever bound them to the plane of existence they fucked off after the Enemy’s defeat. Unfortunately, it weakened them further, so they were unable to prevent the curse from nestling in my people. They only managed to tweak it so, it could be broken. Don’t ask me how… I have no idea. No one does.”
“So, we got to the curse. What did it do?” Harry inquired curiously. The history lesson was fascinating and all, and he kind of wished Hermione was beside him listening to dverger’s explanation, but it didn’t answer the burning question of why him.
“Well, firstly it interfered with dverger’s outward appearance, mutating it to reflect one of the Enemy’s creatures, funnily enough, called goblins. Secondly, it interfered with the access to our innate magic and messed with it at the fundamental level. That caused only a handful of dverger ever reached a master-level status, so the items crafted by them are priceless.” Harry flushed guiltily at the rather obvious reminder of the destruction of several of those items. “All of that sowed the seeds of distrust between our races and the alliance broke shortly after. Several wars were fought between our people until the last scion of the High King of Men became fed up and called a favour with Lord Athanasius. The first treaty was brokered between our races and uncertain peace reigned for several centuries. Until non-magical people popped out and it was decided to create protected enclaves in the face of the real threat of persecution.”
“How did it get broken when even Lady of Magic wasn’t able to lift it? I mean… You called me to the bank for some reason.” Harry trailed off uncertainly.
“You fulfilled all of the conditions necessary, starting with the blood of the High King of Men flowing in your veins,” Vakr replied dryly and waved his hand in Harry’s direction. “And ending with you claiming your birthright, a piece by piece. First cloak. Then the sword. The wand and finally the stone.”
“No.” Harry stood up abruptly and started pacing, glaring at the dverger. He didn't like where this was going. “No. No. And if I wasn’t clear enough... No.”
“The sword popped out several times throughout history to the worthy of it and we hoped,” Vakr murmured. “The Hallows appeared too. From time to time, very rarely, and never uniting under one person. Probably, the work of Lady of Fate. The meddling old hag. With your help, we will be finally able to cut off the Valars’ access to our realm once for all and save our Lady from further harm.” Vakr stood up, flashing his eyes at Harry uncompromisingly. “Call your sword, Lord Peverell. And stand in the defence of our Lady Helaine.”
The wizard didn’t even blink at the address the dverger used, his mind overflowing with all of the information he was suddenly learning. Although, a chance to get back at that bitch Fate was too good to pass up. Silently, Harry wriggled his fingers and the Sword of Gryffindor slapped into his hand. The Hallows came in next, attaching themself to the young wizard. He turned to the dverger and raised his eyebrow challengingly. “And now what?”
Vakr smirked, viciously pleased with the young wizard’s actions, and shot back. “And now, we get to the real work.”