Harry Potter and the Summer of the Dementors

The next morning found him in his room, checking the parchment was in his robes, and taking deep breaths. Then he thought of Gringott's and found himself stepping away from the Apparation point.

"Can I help you, sir?" said the attendant goblin. Harry showed him the note from Raknuk and the goblin's manner changed. He snapped his fingers and another goblin ran up.

"Mr. Potter to see Goblin Raknuk," he said, and the other goblin bowed.

"Come with me, please."

Again the walk down the corridors until his guide stopped and knocked.

"Come in."

The goblin opened the door and announced: "Mr. Harry Potter!"

To his surprise, Raknuk was not alone. The fierce looking goblin - what was his named - Zurkag? - was also there. His guide closed the door behind him.

"Good morning, Mr Potter," said Raknuk gravely. "Goblin Zurkag has also joined us."

"Right, yes. Good morning." He bowed to each goblin in turn.

"Please sit down."

He did so, and Raknuk looked at him expectantly. "I've something for you." He said, and drew out the envelope, placing it on the table. Raknuk looked at it but did not touch it.

"You went to the Ministry?" he asked Harry.

"Yes, the next day. I sent you an owl, if you remember."

Raknuk nodded. "And this envelope?"

"A message from Minister Arbuthnot."

"Have you read it?" asked Zurkag in a growl.

"No, I haven't."

"The envelope isn't sealed."

"That's right."

"So how do we know you haven't read it?"

"I'm afraid you'll have to take my word on that one."

He looked the old goblin straight in the eye, and they stared at each other for some moments. Then the goblin grunted. "I'll take your word."

"Thank you."

"Why haven't you read it?" asked Raknuk.

"Well, it's addressed to you and not to me. And because I am not a representative of the Ministry."

"Not a representative of the Ministry?"

"No. They don't employ me."

"So anything you say is not official policy."

"No - they're just my own personal opinions."

"Come, Mr Potter, they must be more than that."

But Harry shook his head. "No. I've talked the Minister, of course, and know something of how he thinks. But any change in policy would have to be endorsed by the Wizengamot, anyway."

"Maybe so. But you know the Minister's mind."

Harry hesitated. "We've talked things over, yes. But that ought to remain between him and me."

"Very well. Zurkag?" He nodded towards the envelope. The other goblin took it, extracted the parchment and began reading. Without change of expression he passed it over to Raknuk, who read it in his turn. Harry did his best to keep his face impassive whilst all this was going on.

The two goblins looked at each other, and Harry tried to work out what they were thinking, without much success. Finally, Raknuk folded the note and put it back into the envelope.

"We shall have to discuss this at a full Council meeting, I think. But please tell Minister Arbuthnot that we have read his note with interest, and will get back to him as soon as possible."

Harry nodded. "Of course."

"I have something personal to ask you, Mr Potter," the goblin went on. "I wonder if this evening you'd care to visit my home."

Zurkag sat bolt upright. Harry gaped for a moment, then recovered.

"That is an extremely kind invitation. It would be an honour. I would like to very much."

Ignoring Zurkag's reaction, the goblin bowed his head. "The honour would be all mine."

"Right, well, er ..."

Raknuk rose to his feet. "Allow me to show you out, Mr Potter."

"Thank you."

Raknuk turned to Zurkag. "I will see you in the meeting this afternoon, no?"

Zurkag also stood up, and bowed formally. "Yes, Goblin Raknuk."

Ruknak watched in slight amusement as Zurkag left. "He does not approve," and then sighed. "I believe it is time the two communities came closer together, Lord Voldemort or not." Harry nodded. Raknuk handed him a slip of parchment. "Here is how to find me. If you Apparate at, shall we say, seven o'clock?"

"Whatever time suits you."

"Seven o'clock it is then. Come, let me show you out."

He followed the goblin down the corridor.

"Where are you going now?" Raknuk asked.

"Now? To the Ministry, I suppose?"

"Reporting to the Minister?"

"Well - giving him an update, if you like."

Raknuk gave what he was beginning to recognise as a slight smile. "You realise the Ministry is using you?"

"Yeah. I mean, I'm not official, so they can deny anything I say."

"I think you are someone who is honest. But be careful that the Ministry are not manipulating you."

The same thought had occurred to Harry. "At the moment, I'm no more than a messenger boy."

"Yes. No. You are not just any messenger boy, though."

"Perhaps. Although it was you who started things."

"True. It was your idea to come to Gringotts, then?"

Harry hesitated. "Yes. But when I suggested it, the Minister became very keen."

"You realise why?"

"I think I got the idea. I think he thought that sending me to Gringotts was, if you like, a sign of trust."

Raknuk stopped and turned to him. "This is the Apparation point. Please, tell the Minister anything that you like. I trust you, even if some of my colleagues are still - what shall I say? - dubious. But be careful that you do not get in too deep."

Harry nodded. "Thank you. I trust you too. As to the Minister ..." he shrugged. "There is one advantage to fame, though. I'm not what you might call disposable."

Again that smile. "No, perhaps no. Anyway, I shall see you this evening."

Harry bowed, somehow feeling that to be appropriate. "Thank you."

The goblin bowed in return. "And thanks to you."

That evening, Harry stood in his room, a towel wrapped round his waist, damp from the shower. Not for the first time that summer, he wondered what he should wear. This had never really been a problem in the past - Dudley's old cast offs or school robes. Now things were different. Perhaps he should become a real diplomat and get a pin striped suit. Maybe not. Casual? Jeans and tee shirt? Then he remembered that the goblins liked formality. He opened his wardrobe. None of Dudley's old cast offs were there, anyway. He'd heaped them in a pile on the bed in Privet Drive when he left. Not dress robes, not school ... hang on, why not school robes? Okay, legally I'm an adult, he thought, but I'm still at school. And they were perfectly respectable robes. He knew Dobby - or Winkie - had cleaned and pressed them. On an impulse, he reached out for them.

He stood in front of the mirror - smartly polished shoes. Well pressed trousers. Dobby's work again - he was becoming idle with an elf to do all his chores for him. A Gryffindor tie. Not a very elegant tie, perhaps. His rain repelling cloak. That would do.

He reached for the parchment Raknuk had given him and read it carefully. He thought, and was in a passageway - or was it a cave? - lit by a glow that seemed to emanate from the walls themselves. But before he could look round, Raknuk was there, smiling.

"Very prompt, Mr Potter."

"Um .. yes."

The goblin surveyed him, and raised his eyebrows. "Your school robes?"

"Yeah," he said, slightly defiantly.

"Gryffindor House. Well, an interesting choice of costume. Is it intended to convey a message?"

"Don't all clothes?"

"True enough." Raknuk was in his usual long back jacket - no, hang on, it wasn't the same - it was a deep blue rather than black.

"I'm here as me," said Harry.

The goblin bowed. "Which is what I would have wished. Please, come this way."

Harry followed Raknuk a short way to a doorway or entrance. The goblin stood to one side and extended a hand. "Please."

Harry stepped into a large, high ceiling room. Again, it was difficult to see where the light was coming from - but it was bright enough. In the centre of the room were three more goblins.

"My wife, Rakna," came the voice behind him. "And my son and his wife: Zakod and Ankar."

Harry bowed, and the three goblins bowed in turn. Then the son - Zakod - came forward to shake hands.

Harry had never seen a female goblin before: both were slightly shorter than most of the goblins he had seen before, and made him huge by comparison.

"Welcome," said Rakna.

"Thank you."

Out of curiosity he looked round: in some ways, it could have been an ordinary wizard's room, but there were subtle differences in the ornaments, the decoration. And the chairs. Harry saw a rather larger comfortable chair, which he guessed must have been for him.

"Some pumpkin juice."

"Thanks."

A glass was pressed on him. He noticed the goblins had something which looked very different.

"My daughter in law has never met a wizard before," said Raknuk.

"I have seen them," she said in slow and rather heavily accented English, "but not met one - not to talk to."

Harry did his best to smile. "I hope I'm not a disappointment."

Zakod spoke: "We have heard of you, certainly. I was a youngster when Lord Voldemort was at the height of his powers. Then ..."

"Goblins suffered too," said Raknuk quietly. "A cousin of mine was killed when he tried to raid the bank. But enough of that."

There was suddenly a wail from a nearby room, and Ankar hurried out.

"Would you like to meet my grandson, Mr Potter?"

"Um ... oh, yes. Right."

"Come this way."

Harry supposed nurseries were the same all over the world. There was a cot with a small mewling creature in it. Ankar lifted him out and held him. Harry approached a little closer, but couldn't see much for the wrappings of clothes. A pair of eyes focussed on him for a moment, then the cries grew louder. Harry retreated.

"I think I've upset him," he said apologetically.

"Never mind. We will leave him to his mother."

Back in the main room he was ushered into a chair - the one that he had suspected was for him. Conversation was not easy.

"You were brought up by a non magical family, were you not, Mr Potter?" Zakod asked him.

"That's right. My mother's sister. My mother was ..."

"Quite. So when did you find out you were a wizard?"

"When I was eleven."

And Harry told the story of the letters, of Hagrid's arrival, of his own arrival at Hogwarts. His account was punctuated by murmurs of surprise from his audience.

"Fascinating," said Raknuk eventually. "You have had an interesting life for one so young, Mr Potter."

"I suppose."

"Anyway, we must go and eat now."

Harry had been remembering Bill's comments about goblin food, but stood up and followed them.

"We have a problem, Mr Potter," said Raknuk, surveying the table. And indeed it could not have been more than two foot off the ground.

"Tell you what," said Harry, "get me a cushion, and I'll sit on the floor."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. That'll be fine."

Rakna looked worried, but Harry could hardly sit on the small chairs - there was no way his knees would have fitted under the table. She quickly produced a large cushion, and Harry moved the chair away and dropped the cushion in its place. The others took their seats around the table, and Rakna began dishing out from a pot in the centre of the table.

Harry noticed that by his place was a knife and fork, although the fork was unusual in that it had only two tines. A plate was put in front of him, and he murmured his thanks. When everyone had been served, he picked up the fork and began prodding the contents of the plate. It seemed to be mushrooms, and Harry speared one.

The taste was - well, unusual; though not as bad as he had feared. Indeed, after one or two more, the taste began to grow on him. When he had finished his plate, Rakna offered him more, and he hesitated, unsure of the etiquette. Finally: "Just a little, please."

When they had all finished the first course, Ankar and Rakna gathered up the plates and the pot, and disappeared, coming back with more pots. Raknuk poured a little liquid into a glass, saying: "Try this, Mr Potter, You will not find it too strong. And there is some water in the jug there."

Harry sipped the liquid, finding it a little sweet. "Hm, good," he said.

"Not too much," cautioned the goblin.

The second course was rather indeterminate - there was obviously meat floating around in it, although what sort Harry wasn't quite sure. He was rather reminded of some of Hagrid's stews. The spice was rather sharp and peppery in taste, although palatable. He made sure he was eating at the same rate as the others - he didn't want to be left with an empty plate before they had finished.

Conversation was inconsequential: Raknuk talked to his son about how his grandchild was getting on, and the proud parents related little stories of how they were sleeping better now, how the infant had begun to crawl, and so on. Harry felt rather left out.

The final course was a kind of sweet sponge, covered with what seemed to be treacle. Harry couldn't help asking: "Is this the sort of supper you would normally have?"

Ankar answered him: "In some ways yes, in other ways, no. I have not prepared anything that humans would not like, and we would not normally have three dishes like this. But they are all prepared to goblin recipes."

Harry smiled. "I hadn't been sure what to expect."

"Of course. Which is why I was careful to select the menu to suit you."

"Thank you."

After the meal, Ankar and Rakna disappeared, and Harry was taken back into the main living room. Rakna poured him another glass of the - well, whatever it was.

"You may not know this," said Raknuk quietly, "but we've offered to help hunting down the Dementors."

"Really?" said Harry.

"We had been planning something ourselves," - he shrugged - "and we thought we might as well co-ordinate our efforts."

"Heard back from the Ministry?"

"Not yet. We also thought it would be a good opportunity for our two communities to work together."

"Really?" said Harry, this time more cautiously.

Zakod came in. "Our communities have stayed apart - because we feel that humans do not acknowledge us as equals. Being separate is preferable to being subservient. If the wizarding community want to join with us, that is fine - but only on terms of equality."

Harry stared at him. "I think what you're saying is quite right. But you're talking to the wrong person."

"We know you've been talking to the Minister."

"But that's all - I mean, just talking. And it's not the Minister you've really got to convince, but the Wizengamot."

"And how do we do that?"

"Well, I suppose things like joining in the fight against the Dementors and against Voldemort might help."

"You may regard us as useful allies in your fight, but that doesn't mean you'll regard us any differently."

Harry sighed. "I know. It's going to take a long time, and there are going to be a whole lot of attitudes to change."

"Not only on your side," said Raknuk. "Ours too."

"Zurkag?" asked Harry with a slight grin.

Raknuk inclined his head by way of reply. "But he has volunteered for the Dementors fight."

"Oh?"

"He lost his wife to one eighteen years ago."

"How?" cried Harry, horrified.

"Some of your - Death Eaters," said Raknuk in a tone of disgust, "enjoyed attacking goblins. One night, they had a rogue Dementor with them. His wife - what is the term you use? - was soul sucked." Harry stared at him aghast. "That is why Zurkag is going on the fight. But that is one more reason why he doesn't like wizards either."

"What happened to her?" asked Harry in a small voice.

Raknuk shook his head. "She was alive, but could do nothing - not even feed herself. She became weaker and weaker. Finally Zurkag asked us if we would ... kill her."

"And did you?" Harry knew that he shouldn't have asked.

Raknuk nodded. There was a long silence. Now he wished he hadn't asked the question.

"I'm sorry," said Harry. It sounded feeble.

"One of those things," said Raknuk heavily.

Harry really didn't know what to say next. And he knew it was getting late. He stood up.

"Thank you for the meal," he said formally, "and thank you for allowing me to visit your home."

"The pleasure was all ours," the goblin told him.

"Perhaps," said Harry, "after the business with Dementors is dealt with, you would like to come to visit me in Grimmauld Place?"

Raknuk bowed his head. "That would be very kind. Now, allow me to show you out."

"May I say thank you to your wife?"

Raknuk hesitated. "I think she might have retired for the night."

So it was late. "Well, could you thank her for me?"

"Of course."