With a pop, Harry and Dobby appeared just outside the entrance of the Gringotts Wizarding Bank
“Dobby, you can go for now,” Harry said in a serious tone.
“Next time I call you, come and immediately take me back.”
Dobby nodded in understanding and, with another pop, he was gone.
Harry, meanwhile, stepped inside the atrium of the wizarding bank.
With his strange appearance, wearing an oversized muggle sweatshirt and with its hood covering his face, Harry looked out of place.
He ignored the few glances, filled with intrigue and disdain, cast in his direction and approached one of the goblin tellers busy at a counter.
“Hello,” Harry greeted politely.
“I was wondering if I could get some help from the goblins.”
The teller raised his head and almost snorted in disgust.
“We do not help wizards,” he mumbled.
“We do business for gold.”
Though he was here for serious work in a serious situation, Harry still felt amused at the goblin’s behaviour.
They were the first magical creatures Harry had interacted with when he had stepped inside the magical world for the first time.
“Then can we discuss a business proposition?” He asked.
The teller nodded and stared at Harry, waiting for him to continue, though he still could not see Harry’s face due to the large hood.
“Can we discuss this somewhere private?” Harry questioned.
The teller stared even harder before he grunted in annoyance.
“This had better be worth it, wizard,” he muttered as he stood up and gestured for Harry to follow.
Harry quietly walked behind the goblin teller and the duo arrived in a room with two chairs in the middle.
The goblin took his seat on one of the chairs, which was the size suited for a goblin, and indicated for Harry to take the empty seat clearly designed for a human.
Taking his seat, Harry removed the hood but missed the surprised and shocked reaction on the goblin’s face as his face came into view.
“Hello,” he greeted once again.
“I am Harry Potter.
And you are, Mr…?”
The goblin teller was stunned for two reasons.
First, he never expected that the small, masked, underage wizard would be one of the most famous members of wizarding society.
Second, he was surprised by the respect with which Harry conducted himself and the fact that he had asked for his name.
“Runook,” the goblin replied a moment later, completing the introduction.
Before Harry could say anything further, Runook continued.
“Mr.
Potter,” he said.
“I believe I am not the correct goblin to deal with you.”
“Please wait in this room while I inform the manager of the Potter accounts of your arrival,” Runook continued getting up from his seat.
“It would not take very long.”
Although Harry was not entirely certain what Potter accounts entailed, he had a vague idea and suspected this was yet another piece of information hidden from him by Dumbledore.
“Mr.
Runook,” he replied instantly.
“I am afraid I am not here to deal with the Potter accounts.
At least, not this time.
I need a different kind of help.”
By the time Harry finished, Runook was already on his feet.
“So be it, Mr.
Potter,” he responded.
“But even so, your account manager would be the best goblin to deal with whatever issues you have.”
With that before Harry could say anything further, Runook was gone, leaving Harry to wait in the room alone.
It was nearly five minutes later when the doors of the room creaked open and an old-looking goblin walked inside.
The moment he spotted Harry sitting on the chair, a flicker of surprise crossed his face.
It was as if he had still not accepted that Harry had come to Gringotts.
Even before taking his seat, the goblin sighed deeply with relief spreading across his face.
“Thank goodness you finally came, Mr.
Potter,” he said.
“I have been desperate to meet you.”
Harry did not quite understand the remark and raised his eyebrows in confusion.
“What do you mean, ‘desperate to meet me’?” He questioned and then added.
“At least introduce yourself first.”
The old goblin was also surprised to be asked for an introduction, but he kept his expression under control.
“I am Sharptooth,” he said.
“The manager of the Potter accounts.”
“I have sent you nine letters requesting your presence at Gringotts Bank over the last three years,” he continued, “three letters per year, and yet, after your first visit during your first year of Hogwarts, you never returned to Gringotts.”
Harry still was not able to understand the situation.
Even so, he explained his side.
“I never received any letters,” he said.
“And,” he questioned.
“Why would you want to meet me, Mr.
Sharptooth?”
Sharptooth was taken aback by the response and bellowed in anger.
“Are you saying, Mr.
Potter, that someone intercepted our letters to you?” He questioned, his voice filled with rage.
“I never received a single letter,” Harry replied truthfully, “so, that is the most probable case.”
“Is this about my trust vault?” He asked further.
“No!” Sharptooth flared up.
“Why would I bother with chump change?
Do you truly know nothing about your family?
About the Potter family?
About the humongous wealth you have inherited?”
Harry shook his head in denial.
He was in a state of shock.
Was he really that rich that his trust vault could be called chump change?
Sharptooth was beyond angry now and was about to lash out once more, but Harry cut him off.
“Look, Mr.
Sharptooth,” he said.
“I understand things have not worked the way they should have.”
“Trust me,” he continued.
“I have also recently started to find out how people have been playing with me, but these are issues I will deal with later.”
“Although I have a vague understanding of what business you may have with me, I am personally unaware of many things.
We can probably delay that discussion until I have accumulated the proper knowledge.”
“I came here with urgent business that I hope Gringotts can help me with, for a fee, of course.”
Sharptooth, though still in a state of anger and rage, nodded.
“Tell me what you need, Mr.
Potter,” he said, regaining his composure.
“I have a magical binding placed on me, which I only recently discovered,” Harry said.
Harry had not even finished before Sharptooth was on his feet, screaming.
“Someone has placed a magical binding on you?
That warrants the death of that person!” He boomed, his voice echoing throughout the room.
Harry was taken aback by Sharptooth’s fury, not entirely understanding the reason behind it, but he did not dwell on it.
“Was it Dumbledore?” Sharptooth questioned.
Harry was surprised by the guess but even so nodded his head.
“I believe so,” he said, “but I cannot prove anything.”
Sharptooth, now controlling his anger and returning to his seat.
“I always knew that old git was up to no good,” he growled in anger.
“For years after your parents’ demise, he has been trying to get his hands on the Potter family wealth and heirlooms, citing himself as your magical guardian.”
“But thanks to your ancestors’ foresight, he never got anything major.
All he could siphon off was a few thousand gold coins, which can still be recovered.”
“But as you said, these are issues to be dealt with later,” he continued.
“Removing your binding must be the priority now.”
Harry nodded in response.
Sharptooth took a piece of parchment, hastily scribbled something on it, and struck a bell on the table.
Runook, who had been waiting just outside, immediately entered and took the parchment from Sharptooth without a word, running off instantly to deliver it.
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