Chapter Text
January 3, 1994
Beauxbatons, France
The end of the valley ended in a narrow ravine with a path just wide enough to let the half-giants walk side by side. To their left was a partially frozen river that was crashing through gaps in the ice or out of giant ice tubes where rapids would normally be.
Not liking the narrow passage, he had his gun up and ready as he scanned the valley walls. The giants didn't seem as bothered. Since entering the ravine, they had relaxed, and a few were talking and softly laughing.
Hagrid was walking just before them with Rose. "We have entered the goblin's territory. There will be no attacks unless we invite one."
His papa put a hand on his gun and pointed it down. "Karl, put it on safety and shoulder your rifle. We cannot afford to offend the goblins."
He didn't like it but did as told.
The ravine took a sharp corner, and his eyes widened. Not far away was a huge stone wall with a massive gatehouse and a sixty-foot-tall goblin head next to it that had been carved out of the stone of the mountain with its mouth open. The river was roaring out of its mouth, making gigantic icicles on the long nose of the stone head. The stone wall spread across the ravine, butted against the end of the ravine and for a few hundred feet on the river side of the valley, with multiple parapets.
Far above their head he could make out ballista loaded with huge metal bolts on the parapets and hundreds of goblins in full battle gear lining the walls. Their small group would have been obliterated the second they came around the bend if the goblins had not wanted them here.
The giants all held up their right hands, palm open and called out something in a guttural tongue. He shared a look with his father before holding up his hand the same way. "Let the half-giants talk unless we are addressed."
Karl wanted to show his dissatisfaction, but just nodded. He had already been told that numerous times and he was nearly twenty, so he should know by now.
As they approached the gates, they opened. A larger goblin led out a stomping troop of twenty goblins in two lines. They carried halberds and were all in a fine mesh ring armour with plates over their shoulders. The goblin in the lead must have been close to four feet tall while the others were four to six inches shorter. The leader of the half-giants, Kallig, stepped forward, still holding his hand up. As the goblin approached them, he started to talk. Karl tried to keep one eye on the walls and one on the group talking in the guttural language he could only assume was goblin.
After a few moments, Kallig and the goblin turned to them.
"Anders and Karl, step up here."
The other giants were still holding up their hands, so his father and him approached while still holding theirs up.
The goblin's beady black eyes stared at them. Karl met its gaze when it settled on him. He had been told they do not like dealing with the weak. After a moment, the goblin spoke in a slightly broken French. "You are wizard?"
"We are. I am Anders Greengrass, from the Durmstrang Preserve and representing our kin on Isla Nublar in Costa Rica. This is my son, Karl. How should I address you?" his father asked.
The goblin still regarded them, then sniffed the air. "You have wand?"
"We do. Would we have permission to pull them out?"
They had been warned to not draw any weapon unless allowed.
The goblin nodded.
Karl lowered his arm to pull his wand out from the holster on his left arm. His father did the same.
"You can use?"
"With your permission?" his father asked.
After another nod, his father said, "Lumos."
The top of his wand glowed brightly. Karl did the same. His was brighter than his fathers.
The goblin looked at them far more interestingly now. After a moment, the goblin nodded. "Use magic only when allowed. Follow."
The half-giants all lowered their arms. Inside the large door, Karl was surprised to see a long hallway with three portcullises, multiple murder holes above their head and another foot thick door at the end of the hall. The roar of a waterfall could be heard down the length of the hall. Stepping past the second set of doors, his eyes went wide to walk into a hall that must have been a hundred feet high. Giant carved pillars were spaced every fifty feet or so. At the far end a waterfall was cascading into a large pool that had an obvious whirlpool in the centre. By the feel of the shaking in the floor, he had a good feeling the river that was blasting out of the goblin head statue was traveling below their feet. There was a room for a thousand goblins to fill the hall and still move about.
He had never seen anything like it.
A half dozen large doors branched off from the hall on each of the long sides. They were let to the right and through another long hall like the entry way. This place was built like a fortress, and he doubted that even some of the bunker buster bombs they had seen on the television lately would have been able to penetrate this place.
After passing through the long hallway that sloped down, it suddenly opened into a cavern that must have been a mile wide by a few miles long. An entire city had been built into the floor and along the walls. Generations of goblin craftsmen had made something that spoke of wealth, stature and grandeur.
"Sweet mother," his father muttered.
“There must be thousands,” Karl commented.
“Probably tens of thousands,” his father replied.
The staircases down the wall were wide enough to allow three of the half-giants to walk side by side, and every landing was guarded by towers or gatehouses. Anything breaking into here would pay dearly to win any ground. He doubted anything short of a nuclear bomb would end this place easily.
It took them well over an hour to descend the stairs and walk to the centre of the bustling city. Goblins all around them stopped to stare at him and his papa. Karl was feeling uneasy. Some of the faces looked rather unkind, while others surprised. A far substantial number were curious.
They were led to a large building in the centre of the cave. Marble columns dominated the outside structure. It was between what he had seen of Greek architecture and the more fanciful palaces of the Napoleonic times.
When they were on the steps of the building, the lead goblin shared a few words with Kallig, who then told the others they were free to do their own thing and to meet at a local inn later. His papa was keeping an eye on the goblins as their honour guard led them into the building.
Like the outside, it was ornate, showed off a great wealth and the craftsmanship of the goblins. They walked through a few halls before being led to a large set of carved stone doors. The lead goblin turned to them. "As warrior, you may keep weapons and wands. Threaten and you will lose your head," the captain of the guard told them.
They both nodded their acceptance. Kallig made sure the strap was over his sword handle.
The doors opened to a large room. At the far end was a goblin just a little larger than the guard's captain. He was leaning forward on a roughly hewn stone throne with a large battle axe resting on the floor and grasped in both his hands. It was the only thing that seemed out of place so far, but Karl figured it was of immense importance and that was why.
Five fancifully carved stone chairs were spread out in a large arc before the throne. One was already occupied by an aged goblin with white hair. His ears were full of silver earrings. Its beady black eyes were taking them in.
The king was rather impressive as they came close enough to get a good look. He was in the same chainmail as the other guards, with golden plates over his shoulders and a variety of gold and silver earrings in each ear. Karl counted a total of fourteen.
When they were brought just before the chairs, Kallig raised his hand like he had outside. He spoke the goblin's guttural language before saying in French, "Hail, the great rock of Rothsnarg. I come before you, Kallig of Alewein, not for conflict but for treaty."
After a long moment, the goblin sat up, took one hand off the haft of the axe and held his hand up. "Hail, Kallig of Alewein. The great rock of Rothsnarg seeks not conflict this day, but treaty. Announce who you bring before me and their intentions."
Karl was slightly surprised to see how this goblin spoke perfect French.
Kallig nodded for them to step forward. His father spoke in a clear voice. He wasn't as sure of his greeting as Kallig. "Hail, the great rock of Rothsnarg. I am Anders Greengrass of the Durmstrang Preserve. This is my son, Karl. We come…" he paused for a moment, "We do not seek conflict with you and seek treaty."
The large goblin regarded them. "Well met, Anders Greengrass of the Durmstrang Preserve and Karl Greengrass of the same." The goblin sniffed the air. "There is magic about you. It has not been since my forefather's forefather that we met one of your type. Tell me, are you wizards?"
His father took a moment to answer. "It has been about the same time for my family to talk with any goblin. We would claim ourselves wizards but have recently discovered that we have lost and forgot much. There are true wizards that walk amongst us again, though."
This got the goblins attention as he leaned forward again. The one that was already sitting said something in the goblin language. The one on the throne replied before saying, "We smell you speak the truth. Know me as Ragnog of clan Gringotts of the Rothsnarg nation. My advisor, Rotgnasher, and my Captain of the Guards, Agrot. You have travelled far. I would offer to break bread and share of our ale before we begin our treaty."
Karl took his pack off and leaned his gun against it before taking a seat in the uncomfortable rock chair. Several creatures suddenly appeared as if from nowhere with trays, small folding tables and cloths to put over the tables. One was set just to the side of each chair. Slices of a dark bread on a porcelain plate were placed next to a wooden cup. The small creature next to it poured in a very dark, pungent smelling ale that had a slight froth to it as the cup filled.
This was an incredibly longstanding tradition that his mother had taught them, so he knew to pick up the bread and take a bite before their hosts. It was a sign of trust and kinship. The ale was good. It had a slight smoky flavour with a full body taste of hops and caramel.
After everyone had done so, Ragnog spoke up. "The goblins have kept the treaties between the wizards as there is still magical blood and the wizards have done nothing to break the treaties. Am I to assume that you know nothing of them?"
"Very little. We have recorded the treaty between our family and the goblins for the warding of Durmstrang, but I know of no others," his father said.
Ragnog nodded. "I would prefer to keep conflict from us. Our nation has prospered since the downfall of the wizards, but it is not as wealthy as we once were, and we grow stagnant to be confined to our few strongholds the non-magicals have not found. If what you say about true wizards is not false, then the nation of Rothsnarg will seek to enact the old treaties, reclaim some of our old lands and find ways to open the old vaults that are still sealed because descendants still live."
Karl blinked. His father went on, "That is what we seek as well. Though, we do represent a group of non-magicals that seek to work with us. They have proven trustworthy and have protected us and the wizards."
"That is… surprising. They are not with the church?"
Karl could hear the disdain in the goblin's voice.
"They oppose the church. The ones helping us have children that will become full wizards and witches and do not want them to be harmed," his father replied.
"I see. How many? Will this be profitable? Our wealth has grown stagnant," Ragnog repeated his earlier statement.
"The wizards are training me, my children and others. Magic is being reborn. Over time we will grow in numbers again. We need to protect ourselves and our place to allow this to happen. We request a new preserve be established in Costa Rica. Durmstrang wards need to be strengthened. They grow weak and risk breaking. Our friends," his father said, indicating Kallig, "would like access to the other preserves. The wizards would like to return to the Hogwarts preserve and revive it to an active status. You can help us with this, and there will be profit to be made from the non-magicals that would dwarf anything you could make from wizards."
This caught the king's attention. "Profit from the non-magicals? Treaties prevent this."
"I wish to review the old treaties to consider which ones should be changed. This can lead to profit and safety for us both," his father said.
Ragnog finally sat back in his chair. After a moment, the goblins beady black eyes landed on him. "Karl, son of Anders of the House of Greengrass and Durmstrang, you are quiet in this. Does your father speak the truth? Are there wizards returned to our lands? Are they the ones of prophesy? Is magic being reborn?"
Karl, feeling a little caught off guard, looked to his father. After a moment, he gave a slight nod. Karl looked back to the king who was now lazily sitting in his chair. "Wizards have returned."
Karl took out his wand, holding it in a way that shouldn’t cause any alarm. Some of the guards shifted but relaxed at a casual wave of the hand by Ragnog. "We have lost the knowledge to make wands. Yet they possess many. My magic hums in a way it never did with the rods we knew to make. They know much. Harry is much more powerful than my father or myself. I can sense he will be one of the greatest in our history. He commands beasts that should not be. He attracts people to him like moths to flames. If there is to be a rebirth of the magics of old, then Harry Potter would be the one to do it.
I only know the prophesies from our family legends. I wish to go back to Durmstrang and protect it but know I will not be able to if the wards fully fail. Harry may be able to control the magics there, but I think that even much for him. The trolls, ogres, werewolves and dragons grow restless. The lands feel like change is coming. We have heard that beast thought forgotten have been found by the non-magicals.
I think magic is tired of being suppressed and I will support Harry Potter and Sirius Black if it means mother magic comes back to her full power," he said, voicing words and feelings he hadn't even known he was contemplating.
After a long silent moment, Ragnog nodded. He sounded like he was opening negotiations. "What service can the goblin nation of Rothsnarg be to you?"
-oOo-
January 5, 1994
Isla Nublar, Costa Rica
The jeep stopped outside the gatehouse of the giant aviary. Looking proudly up at the structure, John was satisfied that the park would be ready for its first real visitors in April. The Board, investors, select media and their families would be coming for the soft opening of the park. Two hundred people should be a good test. At full operation, the park should be able to host two thousand, with the capacity to go to four thousand within the year.
There had been much debate over the capacity they should bring to the island, but he didn't want it to be too crowded while giving enough room for the dinosaurs to have liveable spaces.
The other two parks would be able to handle more, but that was still two years away before Japan would open. The opening ground ceremony would happen in March, with a projected opening date for Christmas of nineteen-ninety-six if everything went to plan.
"Are we sure this will hold them?" Lynne asked, looking up at the huge dome.
"I have been told it was double reinforced after what he learned in the aviary on Isla Sorna. I see Harry is here with Muldoon," he said to his daughter.
She looked over. She frowned, still upset at the boy after they had found him and Lex rather in their buffs New Year's Day morning. "He loves the dinosaurs, doesn't he?"
John smiled. "He does. I'm hoping that he will stay involved after Isla Matanceros is completed."
"I doubt you will keep him away."
"Yes, I doubt that as well," John told her.
"Dad, I did some more calculations," Lynne slowly said.
He looked up at the sound of the helicopter to find it coming in from the north. "About what?"
"I've been able to confirm what we've been talking about. I don't think Wendy, or I will ever be powerful enough to do magic. All the children are levelling off. Lex is the strongest, but I can't tell if that is because she is older or that is just her strength," Lynne said.
"And what does that have to do with your calculations?"
Lynne let out a long breath. "Dad, I think this is just the tip of the iceberg."
"We already figured that. You’ve been talking about it for weeks," he said, seeing the form of the two large Chinook helicopters coming into view.
"I mean, I think that we will be seeing more and more children expressing, while those over a certain age will never grow powerful enough to use a wand or magic. It's not just exposure to Harry and Sirius that is causing this now," she said.
He looked away from the Chinooks to regard her. "What do you mean?"
She swallowed. "I've been able to correlate stories. I think I've located a dozen others around Washington, D.C., and a dozen in England around London, not to mention thousands over the last few years from newspaper stories and police reports we have been able to get copies over into the database. Three of the children went to school with Lex and I am fairly certain they never met or were exposed to Harry or Sirius. One of them went missing two years ago. Dad, I think this magic thing is going to get larger than we can manage, if it isn't already," she told him.
He regarded her for a moment. "Well, bugger."
The helicopters came into land. He was concerned, but excited as well. "Let's go see the pterosaurs be released, then we can call the group together. I need to go to San Diego tomorrow for another news conference. If you need me or others to check in on anything, we can do that."
She looked towards the dark hair boy. "I think that Harry and Sirius need to check some of this out. If the Church is already moving on this, I don't want to think what might be happening with those kids."
He frowned. He knew Lynne was right.
"If we can prevent it, we will," John told her.
"I wish there were others to help," Lynne replied.
"If things go well with Anders, we will," John said.
The Chinooks landed. He walked over to watch the handlers and veterinary staff unload the crates and check the animals. Grant and his team were standing back or working with the vets.
Harry walked over to investigate one of the crates. "I still think this is a little small for something as large as a Pteranodon."
Harding was there with a probe in the cage. Harry was carrying a tranquilizer rifle. "Maybe, but we can't just let them fly about. I bet they have enough stamina to make it to the mainland," Harding replied.
"I wouldn’t doubt that," Harry replied. "Good morning, John. Miss Murphy."
The boy sounded a little sheepish around her. Lynne still looked upset.
"Good morning, Harry. Gerry, are they good to be released?" John asked.
"Should be. I was just checking to see how the tranquilizers were affecting them. We haven't used them much on any of the pterosaurs yet," Harding replied. "If we are good, we can start to revive them."
"One at a time," Muldoon told him.
"Not this time. They shouldn't be under for longer than needed," Harding countered.
"Robert, we will take the proper precautions, but we can't afford them to be hurt," John told his game warden.
Harry offered, "I can stun them after they wake, then we can get them all into the aviary and then revive them."
John looked to the other two men. Muldoon seriously considered it. "I will feel comfortable doing that only if we have my staff and Harding's people here."
John nodded. "I'll agree to that."
"I need the handlers to get the cages around or to lift the pterosaurs," Harding told them.
"Then we do this the old way," Muldoon said.
"We can't leave them under for that long," Harding vocally countered.
"Harry, you do what you have to if something happens. Muldoon, I will let Gerry revive them all," John told his game warden.
The man gripped his gun. "Fine. Umbridge and Smith, load live rounds."
John frowned but didn't say anything. He understood Muldoon's concern after last summer and other issues they had learned the hard way.
Within the hour, most of the pterosaurs, three distinct species, were released and figuring out their new territories. John gave a wistful smile to see them. His late wife would have loved to see this.
-oOo-
January 6, 1994
Bethmale, France
The cold, crisp air of the French Pyrenees was a refreshing change to the stuffy halls of the Vatican. The cardinals were overly concerned about the infidels and devils that were becoming more numerous. It was concerning enough that the Order had approached the pope for funding but had been told that the Order wasn’t even supposed to exist anymore.
The pope just didn't believe them, and the Order didn't want to show them their facilities or some of the evidence. Even though the Order was doing the work of God, sometimes it was better to not know and just leave it to God.
This morning, he was meeting with the four brothers that had been tasked to monitor the area. He had been told something especially important had been found.
He looked around at the tall, snow-covered mountains and quiet little village. It was one of those places that changed little over time. He wouldn't doubt that most of the people in the sleepy village had lived in the area for hundreds of years.
It was also where the Church of Saint Bartholomew stood in the centre of the old village. It wasn't part of the Order's placed, but the old church held records going back nearly five hundred years. It was these records that had caught the attention of the watchers.
"Father Reginald?"
He turned to a dark skin man that was wearing a heavy jacket over a more traditional black slack and coat. "I am. Brother Edmund?"
"Oui, father."
He shook the man's hand. "Where is the rest of your team?"
In a slight French accent, he nodded to the mountains behind him. "Brother Pius and Constantine are with a local guide. They are exploring a few passes while the weather is good. I expect to see them back tomorrow. There is supposed to be a storm front moving in tomorrow night and we won't be able to go back into the mountains for a few days."
He turned to look up at the mountains. "What about a helicopter?"
"It's a designated no flying zone by the government," Brother Edmund told him.
Father Reginald frowned. He was going to have to bring in more people from Boston and Washington. There was something odd going on here. "I would like to talk with them as soon as they get back tomorrow. You said you had other information?"
The man nodded for him to follow. Inside the church they were met by an older priest. He spoke only in French. After sharing a few greetings with Brother Edmund translating, he was led to an old stairwell just off the annex. The room below was cool, dry and filled with old scrolls and books.
"I came across it two days ago," Brother Edmund said as he moved to a table that was spread out with myriad items. He indicated a book written in Latin and then a map of the area. He looked at the map, curious to try to figure out what he was looking for.
"Do you see it?"
After a moment, he had to shake his head. "What am I supposed to see?" Father Reginald enquired.
Pointing to the book, the man said, "There are records of a town and a castle up this old road. It is still maintained as an access road, but all references to what was there disappeared around seventeen-oh-eight. Even the name is obscured."
"Obscured?" he asked.
"In the old text in Paris, there was an old method used by the demons called obscuring. It could mask out names, places or things. I can sense the taint, but cannot cleanse it," Brother Edmund told him.
Looking at the map and the old census book, he had a good feeling they found where Beauxbatons was located. What concerned him was that the magic of the area was supposed to have been broken when the old fortress fell. If there was still magic here, it was more powerful than the gift that the Church used. But wasn't that usually the case? The devil was always stronger until the true light shone on the darkness.
"And this is the area the others are checking?" he asked, pointing to the old road marked on the map.
"We explored about two kilometres up the road before a storm turned us back a few days ago. They are over here. There are other settlements that are no longer on any current map," the man said, pointing to a ridge line just north of the place where the old castle was.
He needed more people. If there were heretics in larger numbers, like this suggested, there could be issues.
-oOo-
January 8, 1994
Rothsnarg, France
The goblin city was an interesting place. The goblins may not be the friendliest of people, but they weren't as mean or blood thirsty as the old stories made them out to be. He had been wandering the market area when Hagrid found him. That didn’t mean though that Karl hadn’t seen a few challenges. The goblins enjoyed sports such as knives, wrestling and swordplay, drawing only enough blood to let others know who was better.
"I usually come here once a year. The yarn and some of the herbs we grow in the village fetch a premium with many of the shop keepers. There will be enough gold to get us through most of the year and I can replace a few of the other nicer things Aurelie and Mrogan like," Hagrid was telling him as they walked back towards the palace.
Karl had been able to trade a few things to get enough gold and silver to buy some stuff. "Did my father say why he wanted me back?"
Hagrid scratched his chin as they made their way through the crowd. Most moved out of the way, but a few looked nastily up to Hagrid as he walked by. "Don't rightly know. I was just asked to get you."
Hagrid told him more about the trade between his people and the goblins as they wandered back. Like usual, Hagrid left him with the guards, who walked him into a different area of the palace today.
Just outside the only wooden doors he had seen in the place so far, they were met by his father and an elder goblin with bright white hair around his bald dome. His father introduced them. "Master Orlog, this is my son, Karl Greengrass. Karl, Master Orlog is the historian for the vaults that have defaulted from the old branches."
Karl held up his hand, which he now knew was a sign that he held no open weapon and would abide by the treaties to only draw a weapon when you mean to use it, which would mean you intended to kill the goblin before you or were satisfying a challenge.
The goblin nodded. "This is the main vault of all the knowledge claimed by the defaulters. We have gathered all we can from the old London, Paris, Marseille, Frankfurt, Berlin, Oslo and Milan branches. I have been instructed you have free use of the vault and anything in it can be bartered for," the old goblin said, not looking pleased with that proclamation.
Karl rose a brow to his father, who shook his head to say 'not now'. His father had been in negotiations with Ragnog for the last few days. He hoped this was a sign that things were going well.
Orlog ran a finger along the iron edge of the door. A series of scrapes and clicks followed. When the doors opened, the smell of old parchment wafted out. His eyes grew wide to see an enormous room that held thousands of scrolls and books.
His father took a step in. "This was all collected from old vaults?" his father questioned.
"Yes. More than half the vaults that once were rented by wizards have been closed. We are forbidden to use this knowledge," Orlog said, stepping in behind them.
"Then why keep it all?" Karl blurted out.
Orlog snarled. "In the hopes to make profit from what we lost."
His father gave him a sharp look. Karl clamped his mouth shut. They walked into the room. "I don't even know where to start. Is it organized in any way?"
"No," Orlog told him.
Great! Karl thought to himself.
After pursuing a few rows and shelves, his father asked, "Ragnog has said all this is available for purchase. How much for everything?"
Karl's eyes widened. He didn't think they had anything on them worth this much.
Orlog scratched his chin before moving over and looking at the shelves. He slowly turned around. "It is estimated that this trove of knowledge is worth seven-hundred and eighteen thousand galleons, twelve sickles and fifteen knuts."
They had talked about the goblin currency the other day. The goblins had said a galleon was worth about one-eight of an ounce of gold. He tried to do the math in his head but couldn't. His father took a scroll and gently opened it. It was aged and the writing was in a language Karl didn't recognize. "How did you come to that figure?"
"It was the worth of the vaults and what was owed by the vault holders," Orlog told him.
"So, you are using the entire value of the vault? Did most of these take up that much space? Is there that much information here?" his father pondered.
Orlog made a face but didn't say anything.
"If most vaults only had a few books and scrolls, how much do you think the rent on that space would be? How much would have the materials and books been at the time? Surely not over seven hundred thousand galleons?" his father casually said. It was like when he had seen him negotiating with people in Norway.
Orlog snarled. "That is not the point."
"Then what is? Ragnog has said he is not looking for us to answer for old crimes. We are also offering other incentives," his father told him.
"I am the keeper of the unclaimed items from vaults. The deal you make with Ragnog is your own. I have given you my assessment," the goblin told them.
"I want to know what is here and a catalogue of items if I am to buy any of this," his father said.
"Use your own time."
"Papa, that would take us months," Karl said. Though, looking around, he thought it might be more like years. There were thousands, if not tens of thousands of scrolls and books.
His father held up his hand. "A catalogue with fair assessment so I can pick and choose. I would expect an offer for everything as well. Otherwise, we will walk away, and you gain nothing," his father replied to the goblin. “We have other sources of knowledge and without a catalogue, this collection is useless to us.”
Orlog's eyes narrowed. "I don't believe you."
His father shrugged, then started to walk towards the door. Karl followed. Harry and the others would be so upset if they walked away from this. "Father?" he asked in Norwegian.
"Give it a moment," his father told him.
"Two-hundred and thirty-four thousand," Orlog suddenly said.
His father turned. "Seventy-three thousand."
The goblin snarled. "Don't treat me like a fracgnalred! You can gain this information nowhere else. Two-hundred and thirteen thousand galleons."
Karl had no idea what a fracgnalred was.
"If you can prove it worth that, I will consider it. Given the rates that Ragnog gave me, a standard vault was about one hundred square feet, rented at one sickle, eleven knuts a month. I was told that more than three thousand vaults were closed.
My rough estimate would put the rented space at about eighty-six thousand for three hundred years of rent. As we are the only ones that have ever asked for it, I expect a slight discount, unless you are willing to offer transportation?" his father put to Orlog.
Karl was starting to realize he had so much to learn about negotiations. What he had seen Harry, Sirius and his father do in the last few months was beyond his skill.
Orlog snarled. "One hundred and eighty-seven thousand. You need these more than us," Orlog countered.
"Eighty-seven thousand if you can provide transport to a place of our choosing," his father said.
Orlog's black eyes bored into his father's. "And how will you pay for this?"
"I have access to the gold equivalent. It can be made available once the snows clear to get the trucks to the wards," his father told them.
"I will not wait. Eighty-seven thousand. We have access to exchange points in France and Spain that are not affected by the snow of the wards. Can you have the gold today?" Orlog asked, a slight gleam of greed to his eyes now.
"How will you transport all this?" Karl asked.
"We have our means," the goblin told him.
"If I can get to the surface, I have a means of communication," his father told Orlog.
After a moment, the goblin nodded, spat on his hand and held it out. "You swear on this?"
His father did the same. "I, Anders Augustus Greengrass, swear that I agree to the sum of eighty-seven thousand galleons, or its gold equivalent, to Orlog, or his designated representative of the Rothsnarg nation, as soon as possible, and no longer than thirty days for now."
Orlog thought that over for a moment before nodding, then grasped his father’s forearm. Karl felt the magic of the oath.
"I will hold you to this. I will get your guards to take you to the outer walls," Orlog told him. They were left in the hallway as the little man walked off.
"Father, where are we going to get the money? I know that Mister Hammond said he would help in any way he could, but that is a lot of gold," Karl said in his mother tongue.
"It's about six hundred and eighty pounds. We have a little over thirty in our deposit boxes back home. I would like to claim some of these for our family, but John is dedicated to helping us, and to expand the library that Harry and Sirius has collected so far would be a huge boon. More importantly, I need to talk with John and the others. The goblins know how to make the vanishing cabinets and are interested in normal trade.
From what I understand, there are still a few contacts they have that provide outside wares they cannot get or make for themselves. The goblins follow the old treaties. I have been able to get copies, but they span the ministries that used to be around Hogwarts, Durmstrang, Beauxbatons and a dozen other countries that either don't exist anymore or are no longer run the same way.
I need help to understand them before we agree to anything, but Ragnog is interested. Especially to get access to Durmstrang and Hogwarts again. I think we have the potential for strong allies between the goblins and half-giants," his papa told him.
Karl nodded. "What can I do? I feel as though I am doing nothing," Karl told him.
"There is interest in the goblins learning about guns and some of our tracking magics. I am willing to offer what we know for some concessions."
"You want me to train them on how to hunt?" Karl enquired.
"I want you to teach them how to use rifles if we can modify the treaties, and I want you to learn all you can about the goblins. They are not telling us everything and I want to find out what it is," his father told him.
They didn't get to say anything else before two guards walked towards them.
-oOo-
The same day…
Isla Nublar, Costa Rica
Harry was sitting next to her as she tapped away on the keyboard. Grandpa had set up a mainframe in the small compound where they all lived. It wasn't as powerful as the CRAY's, or the new ones that Mr. Arnold was getting built, but it was far more powerful than even her modified Gateway, with a storage bank that was absolutely enormous.
She was playing around with a new program that was designed to recognize scanned text. She was going through a few sheets that her mother and an assistant had scanned from an old handwritten book.
"What do those boxes mean?" Harry asked, pointing to green, yellow and red boxes around the characters of the word she was looking at.
"The green ones mean the letter is positively recognized. The yellow means that there are two or more matches, and the red means the program doesn't recognize it," she told him. She appreciated that he wanted to see what she was doing, but she didn't like the interruptions.
This was not anything easy. Luckily, she had some of the basis of the modifications she was doing to the program from working on the dinosaur recognition program, but that seemed vastly easier than this.
More than half of the texts were handwritten in either Latin, Old English, a little bit more of a modern English or a half dozen rune languages that she was still trying to get alphabets for. The other half were mostly printed, but two or three hundred years out of date in font type and syntax. The complexity was enormous.
Given that they were about to more than quadruple the size of available magical text and scrolls, this project was perhaps the most important one for the growing community of witches and wizards. Especially with their need to understand runes and warding.
"Why can't it see that this is an 'f'?" Harry asked.
"It is an 'f', but mom told me that at the time the early printing presses were made, they usually used 'f' instead of 's', so trying to get the program to recognize which use it is not that easy. Now, be quiet," she told him as she read down lines of code before starting to tap on the keyboard again.
"Oh, I saw that, but didn't think about it," he said quietly.
She really did love Harry, but she needed him out of her hair. "Harry, if you want to help, either help scan in more pages or go find something to do."
He gave her a wry grin. "Sure. Sorry to be a pest." He gave her a kiss to her temple.
"You aren't a pest, I just need to concentrate on this," she told him.
When he left, she missed his presence, but the distraction was gone. It took her another forty minutes to finally get the code to recognize all the characters in the line of text. She was just running the corrected code to validate everything when someone plopped down a stack of three-point-five-inch floppies.
She jumped, not realizing anyone was there.
"f*cking Christ… Oh, Mister Arnold. I'm sorry," she said.
He chuckled, his usual cigarette sticking out of his mouth. "I disturbed you, Lex. I thought I would drop off the latest character libraries we were able to get. This should give you about a million more characters," he told her.
She smiled at him. "Wicked. Why did you come though?"
"I wanted to see how the project was going and needed out of the office for a little bit. Is your mother around?" he asked.
She pointed towards the next room. Through a glass wall they could see three scanning machines, tables full of the texts and scrolls that Harry and Sirius were able to save and boxes and cases the scanned items were being preserved in. Her mother was in there with her assistant as they gently scanned in more books. "I thought Lynne had help for this?"
"She said she wanted to be around us today," Lex told him.
He nodded. "So, how is this going?"
She looked back to the screen before letting out a huff. "f*cking great," she muttered. There were twenty-two red and fifty-three yellow boxes on the screen. More than four hundred characters had been positively identified.
Mr. Arnold chuckled. "That is better than a few weeks ago. After how you resolved the recognition system for the dinos, I know you'll get this."
She gave him a small smile before turning back to the code and the error log to determine what went wrong.
Mr Arnold chuckled again as he put out his cigarette, then went to talk to her mother.
She crinkled her nose at the smell.
She needed to get this program working, otherwise they were looking at a lifetime of translating and typing in these texts.
-oOo-
January 11, 1994
Outside of Albi, France
Harry yawned as the black Range Rover pulled onto the dirt road off the main road out of Albi. At four in the morning, it was dark out and they had been traveling for the better part of the last twenty-hours. The team had assembled and flown out as soon as they could once, they understood that Anders had made contact with the goblins and what they could offer.
Yvonne was driving today. He was here more as a guard until they met with the goblins. Simmons was sitting behind him. Sirius was in the car before them.
They were all a little on edge, mostly because they were carrying a little over four hundred individual one-pound gold bars in each car. Where Mr Lockwood and Hammond has managed to come up with that much on this short of a notice Harry didn't know, but there was a small fortune in each truck.
The truck bounced as they made their way up the road. Snow was getting thicker as they went into the foothills of the mountains. By the time they made it to a clearing with five others and another truck, the snow was half a foot thick. The lights of the cars showed the men.
"Stay in the car until we get the go ahead," Yvonne told him. He heard something click behind him. Simmons was making sure a handgun was loaded and ready.
Sirius was in the front Range Rover. Harry rolled down his window to hear Sirius as he got out of the car, holding up his hand in greeting. He pulled his wand out to detect if there was anyone else around. He couldn’t sense anyone else within the thirty yards he could sense. He did notice that each of the men were magical.
Sirius yelled out in French, "Hello. We are friends of Anders."
A middle-aged man in jeans and a thick winter jacket stepped forward. Harry raised his wand to be just below the edge of the window. He felt a little uneasy as the other men had hunting rifles. They were slung on their backs, but he thought he felt magic around here. "Hello. We work for the under dwellers. How many are you?"
"Six. I was told to ask, 'Where does the wyvern fly?'"
The man nodded. "By the bushes on the east slope."
Satisfied that these were the men they were to meet, Sirius nodded. Harry and Simmons stepped out of the car. A French security guard from InGen stepped out next to Sirius. Sirius reached out his hand. Harry couldn’t tell what they were talking about.
After mostly living on Isla Sorna for the last ten months, he found it rather cold out, though it probably wasn’t much different than Scotland this time of the year. Simmons stepped up to him. “They seem to be getting along,” he said, nodding to Sirius and the man.
“Really mates,” Harry replied.
After a moment, Sirius gave the signal for them to get the gold ready to move. The other men with him lit some torches and then moved towards a cliff face about a hundred yards back from the cars. Harry moved to the back of the Range Rover. He took out his wand again. He was feeling jumpy with nearly six million dollars’ worth of gold between the two trucks.
He put a hand to his sword and raised his wand when he suddenly detected about twenty new signatures. Simmons caught his sudden change in demeanour and reached for his gun.
“Easy, Harry. It’s just our new friends,” Sirius said a little loudly. Harry didn’t miss that Sirius had his wand out either.
The sound of clinking armour came from the cliff face. He flicked his wand to make a flood light come out the tip of his wand. A crack in the cliff face had opened. The four men were now walking with six armoured goblins and fourteen others dragging seven sledges piled high with boxes. He didn’t miss the gleam of the guards’ axes.
He was unsure how he felt about goblins. They hadn’t really been bad to him in his last life, but they hadn’t really been kind either.
A few broke off towards them. He slightly bowed his head but didn’t lower his wand or take his hand off his sword. Two of the guards grinned at him but didn’t show their teeth. He took that as an encouraging sign.
“We come in parlais. Do not draw your sword,” one of the men told him.
Harry nodded. “Is that the books and scrolls?”
“We are to collect three hundred and thirty-three pounds of gold,” the largest of the goblin guards told him.
“We have that, and more to trade for other items you may have,” Harry told him.
The goblin nodded.
Harry shrunk the boxes and moved them to the car as the goblins moved to unload the twenty-pound crates of ingots. Once the items had been transferred, he grabbed his rucksack and the two other goblin blades that Sirius and him had agreed to take. He hadn’t missed how the goblins looked at the Sword of Gryffindor, nor was he ignorant on how the goblins viewed ownership of such items. Sirius had made sure he had been taught everything he knew. Harry wasn’t sure if these goblins were quite the same though. Not once had they sneered or made any snide remarks towards them. Could it be possible that the animosity between their races was gone?
Simmons put a hand on his shoulder. “Are you sure that you and Sirius will be alright? I don’t like the way these things look.”
“If the goblins have given their word to give us safe passage, they will not break that unless we break the truce first,” Harry told him. He knew goblins were at least that honourable.
The man still didn’t look convinced. After a moment, he unhooked the harness with his gun. “I know you know how to use this. Here are seven extra magazines,” he said, handing Harry the gun and a pouch.
Harry wanted to refuse but took the gun anyways. He took off his jacket, put the holder on, then put his jacket back on. He was already shivering. He had grown soft, even though he knew his body was in the best shape he ever had been.
“Please, make sure that all gets back to the island. You have no idea how much all that is worth,” Harry told the man he saw as one of his mentors.
Simmons shook his hand. “We will get it back.”
He moved over to Sirius. Four of the guards and the goblins with the sledgers were already gone. The man Sirius had been talking too extended a hand, “Guillaume Sant Claire,” the man said.
“Harry Potter,” he replied.
The man nodded to Harry’s forearm. “I saw your wands. Do you know how to build them?”
“We have been trying to find that out,” Harry told him.
The man nodded. “I live in Allard. We have a coven. Look us up when you get done with the goblins,” the man told them before shaking his hand and moving towards the truck after taking a box of the gold.
“Unless you want to freeze your rocks off, we should go,” one of the goblins told them.
Sirius chuckled. “I like this one,” he said in a faux whisper.
“I swear, if you get our heads lopped off, Lex is going to kill you, then feed you to Rexy,” he told his godfather.
Sirius gave him a hurt look. “I think Lynne will have first go at me.”
“Lex will still kill you,” Harry told him. They followed the goblins into the crevasse in the cliff face. It led to a roughhewn passage. Not long after they walked into the mountains, he heard a door close them in.
-oOo-
January 12, 1994
Bethmale, France
The snows were getting heavier. He looked out the window of the rectory. Father Rocheford had given him his own private quarters as the rectory filled with members of the Order. He had been given permission to gather twenty for this mission.
Brother Pius and Constantine had returned four days ago with word they found an area covered by a complicated bit of devilry that they couldn’t determine. On their way back, they found a gate in the cursed area. He figured that was where the infidels had gone.
Confident in his belief that these were just a few lone demons, he would lead the team into the area he was now certain was Beauxbatons. If this was where they had been hiding all these years, he would have to make sure that the magic of the place was permanently broken if it could not be claimed by the church.
A knock came at his door. “Come in.”
“Father Reginald, the last of the team has called. They will not be able to make it here until the day after tomorrow as the roads are closed from the storm,” Brother Edmund said after opening the door.
“Very well. We will leave as soon as they arrive. Make sure our guide is aware,” Father Reginald told him.
“Yes, father,” the man replied.
When the door closed, he moved over to the desk in the room. He knew this would be a bit of a gruelling journey, but God was with him. Kneeling, he opened the bible before reading the scripts and praying for the blessing and power he would need.
