Goblin Liaison

    I would like to ask you a question. Do you think that at the prestigious wizardry school, Hogwarts, muggle-born wizards have a tough time fitting in with pureblood wizards? I thought you were going to say that. Well, how do you think some one who is not entirely human would fit in? That is my situation, and this is my story.

    My name is Joseph Orkil Bloauiex. I am the son of Bernard Bloauiex, a muggle-born wizard and Norba Leolea Bloauiex, a goblin clerk at Gringotts Bank. Before I was born my father was a wizard of high repute working in the Department of Mysteries at the Ministry. My Mother sat in the higher ranks at the bank, being quite adept at dealing with money, and wizard kind. When the two were married, they were treated as traitors to their respective cultures and knocked down to the lower notches of their societies. My father was subtly forced to leave the Ministry and now owns and operates a magical oddities shop in Knockturn Ally. My mother was eventually demoted to “errand-goblin” for the bank. In fact, the only reason she was not fired was her one hundred thirty years employment at the bank.

    I was raised in London, where I lived with my family on the second story of my father’s shop. My childhood was spent assisting my father in duties at his store, exploring the magical district of London, and reading book upon book in a small, shadowy, isolated corner at Flourish & Bolts. I was a lonely child who’s favorite article of clothing was a deep blue cloak, to mask my heritage in fear of being taunted and insulted by wizard and goblin alike. I was prone to talking with my self and my best friends, aside from my parents, were house elves, who I felt somewhat akin too.

    In August of my eleventh summer, I received a letter in the post from Hogwarts School. I had been looking forward to and dreading that day at the same time, for as long as I knew about Hogwarts. As soon as I dressed and fed my self, I gave farewells to my parents and they gave me sufficient funds, and went shopping. At the end of the day I had a gigantic new trunk, cauldron, gloves, robes, books, a shabby barn owl which I named Brodrick and a six and three quarter inch yew and dragon heartstring wand.

    On the morning of the first of September, I arrived bright and early at King’s Cross Station, and took a seat in an empty compartment in the train. I pulled my cowl as far as I could over my face and sat up as much I could as to appear as tall as a three and one half foot tall person could. Soon a few upper class Ravenclaw students came to join me in my compartment. It was obvious that my attempts to act inconspicuous had failed, in fact, I think it was doing the opposite for me. I decided enough was enough, I believed I could handle any scorn that they could give my, I had handled scorn my hole life, and pulled back my cowl and braced for insults. To my amazement, none came. Instead of looks of hatred, came looks of curiosity.

“Are you a goblin?”, one boy ask, trying to act nonchalant.

“Only half” I replied timidly as a thought popped in my head. “I hope I get sorted into Ravenclaw.”

    The Rest of the train ride was spent by myself answering a barrage of questions from the students in my compartment and soon many more came a calling. Frankly, I did like all of that positive attention; this was probably how Harry Potter felt when he first came to Hogwarts, five years latter. After a while the constant line questions did grate on my nerves, but it was better than the insults and hatred I usually received when people discovered my heritage.

     When we arrived at school I followed the long line of first years into the boats, across the lake and up to school just as I read all first years did in Hogwarts: A History.

     As we waited to be sorted I found a shadowy corner and tried to avoid attention, which seamed to be useless. When a strict looking, red-haired woman shuffled us out into the great hall and set an old hat upon a stool, every one’s eyes seemed to drift to me, by far the shortest first year there. When I was called up and had to climbed up that tower of a stool, and place upon my head that hat that covered my entire torso, I could tell that every one in the hall was watching me closely. When I head the ethereal voice of the hat bellow, “Ravenclaw!” and the cheers of the Ravenclaw table; relief flooded over me.