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+[[!meta title="Chapter 1: Pragmatism"]]
+4 Privet Drive in Little Whinging was a perfectly normal house in a perfectly
+normal neighborhood. The hydrangea bushes at the front of the house sparkled
+with dew in the early November morning.
+Petunia Dursley opened the door, and discovered what simply had to be the worst
+practical joke she had ever encountered. There was a baby on her doorstep.
+A *baby,* of all things. In a basket, of course. There even appeared to be a
+letter.
+She collected the newspaper. With a sigh, she also brought the baby inside. It
+would not do for the neighbors to see a baby abandoned outside her house, after
+all. At least it was asleep.
+The very last thing her life needed was a storybook baby abandoned in front of
+her house. Her own child was already causing enough trouble. This was all the
+sort of thing Lily would appreciate, not her.
+Now there was a thought. Perhaps Lily would take the child. Petunia made a
+mental note to contact her sister as soon as possible. Last she'd heard from
+Lily, there was some trouble and she'd been told that all contact had to go
+through the lawyers at some bank called Gringotts. Goblins, if you can believe
+that. Whimsical nonsense; Petunia was glad *her* child would never get caught up
+in such a *stupid* culture.
+Petunia set about preparing breakfast for herself and her family. The baby was
+set aside for the time in the living room; it had waited outside in the cold,
+and as far as Petunia was concerned she was already doing it a favor by allowing
+it indoors. As the eggs cooked, she absently read the letter which had
+accompanied this morning's unwelcome guest.
+Well, now there's something. Her freak of a sister had gotten herself killed,
+and the child was her nephew, Harry. Of *course* Lily's son would get dumped on
+her in such a manner. It was just like her.
+But then, it *wasn't* just like her. As much as Petunia loathed her sister, she
+knew Lily would never abandon her child like this. Lily was always a responsible
+girl; if there was even a chance Petunia would be named as guardian of the
+child, she'd have been told. And no money to help raise the child? Lily's
+husband was rich! Sure, it was *freak* money, but Vernon's paycheck was going to
+stretch just to cover the expense of their own child. With two children to care
+for, they would simply never afford that vacation home in Majorca!
+No, this wasn't right at all. Something was missing. There must be an upcoming
+will reading, or perhaps the freaks thought they could get away with
+shortchanging her. Unacceptable! No-one takes advantage of Petunia Dursley!
+And with that, Petunia made up her mind. Breakfast set aside to cool, she jotted
+down a quick note to Vernon (fortunately, they were already planning on taking
+Dudley to his first zoo trip today; Vernon could handle that on his own) and set
+out towards downtown London, basket in one hand and letter in the other.
+There was no way she would let that freakishness infect her family without some
+compensation.
+<hr />
+In a castle in northern Scotland, an aged headmaster watched the silver
+instruments in his office. The wards had activated, yes, but then stopped
+charging minutes later. Well, that was nothing to worry about; Petunia would
+love her nephew just as she loved her sister, and must simply be taking Harry
+for a quick checkup at the doctor's office or something. Smiling to himself,
+Professor Dumbledore sucked on a lemon drop and turned back to the business of
+running a school.
+<hr />
+Charing Cross Road, find the bookstore next to the record shop, start looking
+for freaks. It took Petunia less than five minutes to identify someone who
+clearly had no business walking around *normal* London, and a 30 second
+conversation about her sister who just died and "I'm to meet with the Goblins
+but need help to reach their bank" to determine that this particular freak was
+not a magic user. The second freak she identified was, and Petunia found herself
+with a willing escort into the Leaky Cauldron.
+Dark, dank, and straight out of the middle ages. Oh, she remembered this place
+well. How anyone could possibly think that magic was anything but trouble when
+*this* was the first introduction to the magical world, she would never know.
+Even so early in the morning, the bar was packed with uncouth cretins
+congratulating each other and celebrating somebody's death; simply *disgusting*.
+There were some glances at the basket, but Harry was covered by his blanket and
+amazingly still asleep, and Petunia's brisk manner saw her quickly out the back
+door with the barman opening the way for her and no further questions asked.
+Most of the patrons seemed to be caught up talking about some Boy-Who-Lived,
+which didn't sound at all impressive an accomplishment to Petunia, but at least
+they weren't trying to talk to her.
+Cauldrons! Brooms! Owls! Petunia was disgusted by such a blatant display of
+freakishness. Somehow, it was even more loud and colorful than she'd remembered
+from her sister's shopping trips. There had better be a lot of money waiting for
+her if she was to put up with this nonsense for some child. Perhaps, with the
+right upbringing, he might never need to learn about magic. Petunia made a
+mental note to ask about that.
+She marched down the alley with her nose held high, exuding such an air of
+aloofness that most who saw her assumed she was an oddly-dressed pureblood and
+stayed out of her way. Those who didn't were simply brushed aside; Petunia had
+no desire to waste any more time on their sort than she had to. Such filthy,
+disturbingly-attired creatures as these witches and wizards were simply
+undeserving of her acknowledgment.
+Upon reaching the stern white marble facade of Gringotts Bank, Petunia entered
+and walked to the first free teller she saw, thankful that it was still early
+enough in the morning that she would not have to wait in line with any freaks.
+Finding herself ignored, she coughed loudly before ringing the desk bell that
+sat immediately in front of the Goblin.
+Axeblock looked up from his paperwork and acknowledged her with a fierce scowl
+and slight twitch towards the dagger hanging upon his belt. Seeing that this
+failed to send the bothersome Human who dared to interrupt his work scurrying
+away, he relented slightly and began his interrogation of this pest.
+"What do you want, muggle?"
+Petunia had never dealt with the Goblins in person before, but really, bankers
+were bankers, weren't they? And she was the one stuck with an extra child, here!
+Calling upon her deeply-ingrained sense of betterness and the pure knowledge
+that these freaks owed her something for the atrocious invasion of her life, she
+looked down her nose at the teller and made her demands.
+"This," and here Petunia deposited the basket and letter in front of the teller,
+"was deposited on my door this morning. If my sister left me her child, she
+would have left money to care for him. I know she had lawyers here. I demand
+compensation for this atrocity. I want this taken care of, immediately."
+Axeblock was not completely prepared for this situation. His first customer of
+the day was a muggle. A very rude muggle, who for some reason had decided to
+walk up to the Foreign Tax-Related Disbursements desk. Bringing with her what
+appeared to be *the* Harry Potter, the same Boy-Who-Lived which all the foolish
+wand-wavers were carrying-on about. From what he could tell, she either wished
+to dispute her own guardianship of said child, or she was attempting to exchange
+it for currency. In either case, the solution was the same.
+"I'm sorry, I shall have to summon a superior. Please accompany me to a private
+room where you may wait."
+Petunia was quickly and quietly shuffled off to a waiting room with some
+less-than-comfortable chairs and horrible magazines about something freakish
+called "Quidditch". Reluctantly, she settled in and proceeded to stare at a wall
+while the Goblins got on with getting her some money. Harry was resting in his
+basket, unceremoniously placed against a wall.
+<hr />
+Meanwhile, the Goblins were in something of a panic. Axeblock had called his
+immediate superior Bloodrock, who had brought in Throwhook from Wills and
+Inheritances and Beltlock from Unusual Currency Exchanges. After a very brief
+interview with the muggle woman, Beltlock was dismissed and Throwhook ran off
+to summon Sharpaxe, the current Head of the Potter Accounts. The active foreman
+noticed all this activity and called Steelgash from Potential Difficulties, who
+upon hearing the situation summoned Urgnok from Wizarding Relations to
+assist. Urgnok understood *exactly* who the Boy-Who-Lived was, and sent an
+urgent request for advice to Ragnok, supreme branch manager and effective head
+of Goblin government in Britain.
+The situation was unacceptable. Less than a day after Dumbledore had strode into
+*his* bank and *demanded* that they seal the Potter will, and it was *already*
+causing problems! Letting the Wizards inject their loathsome politics into
+Gringotts affairs had never ended well for Goblins before, and this time looked
+to be no different. Still, Dumbledore was politically powerful; Ragnok could not
+order the will unsealed without risking further damage to Goblin rights in
+Britain.
+Legally, it was a messy situation. After some further questioning, Ragnok
+determined that the Dursley was unwilling to accept the boy without monetary
+compensation, an admirable if somewhat troublesome trait. Ragnok was also
+somewhat endeared to her by her rampant hatred of Wizard kind, which he shared.
+Still, without a will reading, no such compensation was possible; the only funds
+available were the boy's own trust fund, which would not unseal until his
+eleventh birthday. All Potter Family assets were locked away until the heir's
+majority, barring a will that stated otherwise. Without any way to acquiesce to
+the Dursley's demands for compensation, there was no other alternative; the
+guardianship of the boy must be changed.
+The contents of the will could not, legally, be read to determine a replacement
+guardian. Still, the *existence* of the will was not in doubt; nor that it had
+been trusted to the Goblins of Gringotts to execute. This implied that the
+Potters trusted in the judgment of Goblins to see to the care of their child.
+Ragnok acknowledged that Gringotts had already failed the Potters by bowing to
+political pressure from Dumbledore, but he would still accept the implied
+responsibility to find a proper guardian for the boy. And in any case, no-one
+else could be trusted with the task; Dumbledore had already proven that the
+Ministry of Magic was incapable of placing the child; as its representative,
+he had chosen a guardian who lasted not even 12 hours before demanding to be
+removed!
+So, Ragnok ruled that guardianship of the boy was now a Goblin matter. They
+would, in good faith, find the best possible guardian for Harry Potter.
+As a matter of simple formalities, Beltlock was once again summoned.
+Negotiations commenced, and less than two hours after entering Gringotts,
+Petunia left much happier than she had expected to, having officially sold Harry
+to the Goblins for £2500 and a prepaid taxi home. She was given a receipt in
+exchange, marked with her own blood, the blood of Beltlock, and the blood of
+Harry Potter. She viewed the experience as a triumph over freakishness, and
+planned to have the receipt framed as soon as possible. Obviously, it would not
+be displayed anywhere prominent, where someone might see it, but she would
+treasure it nonetheless. Perhaps she could hang it in the supply cupboard, under
+the stairs.
+<hr />
+A tinkling sound attracted Dumbledore's attention once more to his silver
+instruments. He was pleased to see that the blood wards were again active; the
+blood of Harry Potter was in the home of the Dursleys, and that blood was loved.
+Dumbledore smiled, and returned to his paperwork. Later this evening he would
+tell Minerva her worries had been for naught. Another plan managed flawlessly.
+This deserved another lemon drop.
+<hr />
+And now, Ragnok considered the problem of where to place the boy. He could not
+be placed carelessly; already, Harry had acquired scores of potential enemies
+in the followers of Voldemort. In any case, a Wizarding family was not a healthy
+place to raise any child; every Goblin knew that Wizards were without exception
+rude, incompetent, and downright useless. No, he would have to go somewhere he
+could have a *real* childhood, with all the opportunity he deserved to grow into
+a well-rounded adult member of society.
+Besides, Sharpaxe would have plenty of spare time now that the Potter accounts
+were idle, and had been trying unsuccessfully for a child for some time now.
+Ragnok had no doubt he would make an excellent father for Harry. There was no
+better place for a child to grow to adulthood than the marble rooms and stone
+caves of Gringotts; any Goblin you asked would agree without hesitation.
+There were other advantages as well. The boy would grow to be The Potter of
+Potter, heir to an Ancient and Noble house and its corresponding seat on the
+Wizengamot. Having a Goblin-raised Human on the Wizengamot would be a tremendous
+leap forward for Goblin rights. And as the Boy-Who-Lived, he was already being
+canonized by the Wizarding public; he was clearly an asset to the Goblin nation
+if used properly.
+Yes, this could work well for the Goblins. Harry would be raised as one of them,
+trained both in the arts of war and the arts of politics. He would be a force
+for change in the backwards society of the Wizards, and greatly assist in the
+long-term plan of equal rights for Goblinkind.
+If nothing else, the Wizarding public was sure to send him gifts. Already the
+mail wards Dumbledore had instructed them to setup on behalf of Harry Potter
+were forwarding hundreds of letters to a vault dedicated for that purpose. Some
+of those letters had money! Money which, by virtue of being money, rightfully
+belonged in the hands of Goblins!
+And if Harry Potter was recognized as a member of Goblinkind by Gringotts, then
+he could access those funds for his own purposes, and the consequent betterment
+of the Goblin economy. And the Potter accounts! The vaults were officially
+sealed until his majority, but as a Goblin he could enter them for security
+audits. And once Harry was inside the vault, the possessions and gold within
+were unarguably his, so he could not be accused of stealing if he brought
+anything out when he left. It was disgusting to just leave all that gold sitting
+around for decades; really, this was better for everyone.
+Without any further hesitation, Ragnok promoted Sharpaxe from Head of Potter
+Accounts to Head of Harry Potter Affairs. The child was whisked off to a Healer
+so the bank could be assured its asset was in prime condition, and Sharpaxe was
+dispatched back to his apartment to prepare an appropriate living space and
+acquire whatever food, clothing, and any other essentials that were likely to be
+required in the immediate future.
+As Sharpaxe set off to notify his wife and clan, one thought repeated in his
+mind: "Humans grow fast and tall. He will outgrow his swords quickly. I must
+requisition extra funds for additional weaponry immediately."
+<hr />
+Goldknife was a very skilled, very bored Healer. Gringotts had little call for
+healers trained in Human physiology, and there hadn't been a new opening for a
+Disemboweler in *years.* Still, she was dedicated to maintaining herself as the
+best. She practiced her skill with diligence on the Human cursebreakers injured
+on the job, and yearned to someday practice her *art* on those who attempted to
+steal from Gringotts.
+But today, a new patient arrived. Goldknife was informed that she would now be
+responsible for this Human child's healing until he reached majority. Funding
+was allocated from the freshly-created Department of Harry Potter Affairs for
+any needed wages, ingredients, and record-keeping. This was pleasant news; it
+wasn't Disemboweling, but at least it was something to do. And there was always
+the hope that he would try to escape while under her care.
+Harry was quickly determined to be no more injured than expected for a young
+child who had had a house collapse on him. He was hungry, but Human milk was a
+common enough ingredient in certain kinds of potions that she was quickly able
+to satisfy that need. More worrying, however, was the rather persistent magical
+reading that seemed to reside in his forehead. Careful analysis revealed the
+presence of an incomplete horcrux. This required some difficult decisions to be
+made.
+Steelgash of Potential Difficulties was again summoned, and he was able to
+verify that the signature on the horcrux matched that of a Human already known
+to the bank, one Tom Riddle. This was fortunate, as Riddle had no active
+contract with the Goblins for the protection of any horcruxes. Even if he could
+press such a claim, Harry was determined to be a legal claimant of any horcrux
+left on his person by Riddle according to the time-honored Right of Spoils of
+War, and thus his health would take priority. Legally, the horcrux could be
+removed.
+Still, the process had serious complications. With such a risk to the patient,
+the final decision must lie with the Head of Harry Potter Affairs. A runner was
+sent to find Sharpaxe, eventually locating him sampling the wares of various
+weaponsmiths. Sharpaxe, having the situation explained by the Healer,
+immediately grasped the essential difficulty.
+"You can remove the horcrux, but doing so will destroy the scar?"
+"Unfortunately, yes. The two are one and the same; without the horcrux to burn
+against his soul, his own magic will heal over the scar quickly."
+"But the scar is a mark of honor! Surely he will wear it as a badge of his
+glorious victory!"
+"He is too young to understand. When he is older, he will be able to embrace his
+scars. Now, they will heal."
+"Then, we leave the horcrux until he is properly educated. Then his magic will
+recognize the scar as his own, and the horcrux can be removed."
+"Unacceptable," Steelgash interrupted, "Harry Potter is to be trained as a
+Goblin. Tom Riddle is not. The horcrux is a compromise, and cannot be present
+during his training."
+Sharpaxe scowled for a time, before presenting a compromise, "Harry deserves
+recognition of his victory. You propose to deny him natural recognition as a
+matter of bank security. I will agree, on the condition that Harry is afforded
+compensation for this loss, to include special dispensation for the unlimited
+use of a glamour that matches the scar as it is now."
+This was a steep price. Normally, glamours of any kind were prohibited in many
+areas of Gringotts, and scar glamours especially were heavily restricted to
+"inherited" scars and important marks of office. Still, no-one could deny that
+Harry had earned a scar which he already wore, and the bank forcing the
+*removal* of a genuine scar won in battle was a unique event.
+"Agreed. An enchanted device will be constructed to hold the glamour. I will see
+to the details."
+Sharpaxe hoped this would be enough. He promised himself that he would do
+everything in his power to see Harry raised in a proper and honorable manner,
+and that Harry would enter adulthood with many glorious scars. With any luck,
+that would help satisfy the terrible loss Harry would surely feel for having his
+first trophy stolen so unfairly.
+A contract was hastily prepared and signed in blood between the two, and
+detailed images of the scar drawn for the construction of the glamour. Goldknife
+prepared a simple runic array for the removal process, and summoned several
+underlings to assist. Within a few moments, the Goblins had donated enough love
+of money to overpower the inherent hatred of the soul fragment, dispersing it
+forever.
+As she wiped some leftover black residue off Harry's forehead, Goldknife saw
+that his beautifully violent scar was already starting to fade and smooth over.
+With a grimace, she vowed silently to herself that someday she would make amends
+to the boy for the harm she had just caused him.
+Harry's last stop for the day was an examination by the Matriarch for any
+prophecies that entangled his fate. She was an ancient and hideous Goblin,
+blinded at an early age when she first showed signs of divinatory talent and
+locked away in a dark cave to focus on improving her talents. After years of
+rituals and practice, she could feel the influence of the future on any brought
+before her.
+The blind Oracle passed her hand over Harry, her face locked in a growl of
+concentration. Long minutes passed, with the uneven smoke of torches coiling
+around her cramped burrow, causing little Harry to sneeze.
+With a pained moan, the Matriarch relaxed before giving an utterly terrifying
+smile. Staring eyelessly into the darkness, she delivered her reading.
+"This boy is four-score-times marked by prophecy. His life shall be rife with
+conflict and war. Enemies great and small await him."
+Sharpaxe let out a relieved breath. He had worried that, as a Human, Harry might
+not be destined to be a true warrior, and that he would have to contract out for
+enemies to challenge his new ward. This way was better; with natural adversaries
+selected by fate, Harry was sure to have the best opportunity possible to become
+a mighty warrior. Not to mention, this way cost less.
+Knowing everything he needed to know about Harry's future, Sharpaxe carried him
+off to his apartment. It was nearing evening, and Harry would need to be fed
+soon. Most likely he was still too young to strangle his own rat, but, there was
+no point in denying him the opportunity to try.