Chapter 3 Dean's Turn

Professor Flitwick was having a good day. He was escorting a muggleborn student to Diagon Alley. While he didn't think the student would be in his House, the lad was entertaining. The boy was dark skinned and haired, and had a sunny disposition, if a bit of a foul mouth. He was tall and lanky, for an eleven-year-old. He stood half a head taller than the diminutive professor.

At the moment, they were coming upon the Leaky Cauldron. "Bloody Hell, this place it wicked. Do you think there are any vampires here? It looks seedy enough," the young boy chirped, his eye alit with fascination.

"Please curb your language, Mr. Thomas. Such foulness will not be tolerated at Hogwarts," Flitwick squeaked, though not too harshly. "As for vampires, they only come out during the night. So, it is improbable that one would be here now."

"Shame," Dean said, as he followed the professor into the dark pub. He looked around and saw many fascinating characters. Ones his mum would pull him away from in an instant. If she didn't outright scream at the sight of a few. Still, it was all remarkably interesting.

Filius calmly nodded to Tom the bartender and led the boy to the courtyard in the back. Just when he was about to open it, and bushy-haired girl came barreling through, followed by a miffed McGonagall.

"Filius, I am sorry," Minerva said as she picked the poor man off the ground. "Miss Granger is in a hurry to get home. Miss Granger, apologize this instant," she demanded, whirling on the girl, whose face was in shock at what she had just done.

"Oh, my goodness, I am so sorry," she quickly said, hurrying over to the tiny man and started to wipe his coat of dust. "I'm just ever so excited," she claimed, her eyes bright with someone who had new knowledge.

Flitwick pegged her for his House. She would do well in Ravenclaw, if her excited, inquisitive face said anything. He had seen that look many times, and he was dying to ask what she had learned; however, this was neither the time nor the place. He tittered.

"No harm done," he said, brushing her hands away. "I can see you are just excited." He finished patting the dirt off his coat. He took out his wand, making the kids watch closely, and waved all the dirt away, making it form a small tornado, and then settling it in the corner of the courtyard. Both children smiled, at the display.

"Oh, thank you ever so much for understanding," Hermione said, standing back away from him. "I am in a bit of a hurry, but I do apologize again. And thanks for showing me some magic. I can't wait to get to Hogwarts, so that I can learn to do that. It seems ever so useful."

"It is quite alright, young lady, but perhaps you can pay a bit more attention to your surroundings. Not all of us are overly noticeable," the small professor said with another small chuckle. "I see that you are an inquisitive one, just make sure you don't offend," he said, smiling at the girl.

"I will, I promise," she agreed, then looked at Dean. "Are you new too?" she asked, jumping in place a bit. "I just found out I was magical, and it explains so much. How are you liking it so far? Oh bother, you haven't even gone to the Alley yet. I'm sorry, I'm sure you'll enjoy it. I just found out that I have a magical ancestor. It's been ever so exciting. Oh my, I must get home. Nice to meet you," she said, looking at her watch, and hurried away.

McGonagall sighed and followed the girl with a quick pace.

The two left in the square, watched them go and chuckled.

"Well, she's exited," Dean said with laughter in his eyes.

"She would do well in my House," the professor stated. His eyes held the same laughter.

"That was great, that bit of magic you did," Dean said, changing the subject. Sure, the man had made the coffee table float, but what he just did with the dirt was brilliant. "Will I learn that?" he asked, waving his hand to indicate what he meant.

"Oh, indubitably," Flitwick said with a nod. "Not until your second year, I'm afraid, but you will learn many useful bits of magic during your time at school."

"Great, I can't wait." He clapped his hands together and rubbed them in anticipation. "It's a shame I can't do any at home yet. My mum would love help around the house."

"In due time, Mr. Thomas. Now then, let us get your money changed over," Flitwick said, smiling at the boy and waving him into Diagon Alley.

"Cor," the young man said, looking at everything. His eyes widened as he took in a man that was ten feet tall, if he was in inch. The tallness of the man, only overshadowed a bit by the wild hair and beard, made the kid he was with look like a toddler.

After a moment of staring, he noticed a group of boys around a window, and moved towards them. "This is wicked," he stated, peering at the brooms the boys were admiring. "Can they really fly?"

"Yes, it is indeed, and they certainly can," Filius agreed, tugging at the young man's sleeve, and drawing him away from the display. "However, first year students are not allowed brooms."

"Damn," was the upset rejoinder.

"No worries, young man, you can bring one next year. I do have to say, though, they are quite expensive."

"I'll have to save my allowance then. Maybe in a few years," the boy mumbled, walking to the large white building. He was so distracted with his calculations that he didn't notice the goblins in front of the doors. He looked at the large doors then something shiny, to the right, caught his eye. He looked and then jumped back in complete shock as he finally noticed the guard.

"Holy shite," he said, then slowly stepped forward with curious eyes. "What are you?"

The little being looked a bit like the professor, but much, much scarier. He had wondered if Flitwick was entirely human. However, he thought it impolite to ask. Now, he had his answer. He'd bet a year's worth of allowance the man had some of what ever this being was.

"Mr. Thomas!" Flitwick snapped, tugging the boy away from the guard. "That is no way to talk to anyone. You will find there are many different species of beings here in the wizarding world. Most of which are intelligent. You would do well not to insult them," he chastised.

"Oh, bugger, I'm sorry," Dean immediately said, bowing a bit. "You caught me by surprise is all. This is all new to me. Let me start again. Hi, my name is Dean Thomas. It's a pleasure to meet you," he said, grinning and holding out his hand. It shook a bit, like he wasn't quite a brave as he was pretending to be. But his mum would have his guts for garters if he didn't apologize.

"Digger is the name. To answer your question, I'm a goblin. Don't worry about shouting, it's fine," the goblin gruffly stated, taking the child's hand and giving it a quick shake. "We're used to it. No harm done."

"Whew," the boy said, putting his hand back down. "I'll try to not do that again," he mumbled to himself, as he nodded to the other guard, and went into the other set of doors, not noticing the poem on top.

They made their way to the line in front of the exchange desk, while many people were calling helloes to Flitwick, which he was returning them cheerfully, Dean was still in deep thought. The professor didn't mind, he loved seeing all his current and ex-students while in the Alley. They all called to him, without prejudice. After all, he was one of the most well like teachers at Hogwarts.

They stood in line and Dean started gazing around him, still completely fascinated with everything. He really studied the jewels and gems that other goblins were weighing and logging. He had never seen so much wealth in one place. He wondered if anyone ever stole from here.

"Professor," Dean said, turning to look down on the tiny man, "has this place ever been robbed?"

Flitwick chuckled. "No, no," he squeaked, "Gringotts is one of the safest places in Great Britain. Hogwarts is also just as safe. They both have formidable wards, and Gringotts has an army of thousands of bloodthirsty warriors. While Hogwarts has Albus Dumbledore. No one wants to tangle with either," he explained, waving his arms excitedly.

"Oh, well that's good to know. I might have to keep money here one day. By the way, why are most of these people sneering at the tellers? I mean, is there a history?" Dean asked, looking at the disdain on most of the faces.

"There have been many wars between the two races. Though it has been many, many years since the last. Wizards do tend to hold grudges though. Then again, so do goblins. It was in one war a few hundred years ago, that the goblins demanded the right to open the bank. They felt that if they controlled the money, the wizards would be less likely to turn on them. The wizards, on the other hand, feel that the goblins are trying to control them by keeping the wealth hostage. It is an ongoing debate, where both parties feel they are in the right. There have been a few wars since, over said debate, but as you can see, the goblins are still here," he lectured a bit.

"Oh, sounds complicated," the poor boy said, rubbing his chin in thought.

"It is, but you will learn more in your history class, then you can decide for yourself on which view you feel is correct. Though, that may take extra reading. After all, history is written by the victors. It would be better if you heard from both sides," Flitwick stated, a slight depression came over him.

Being a halfling, was hard, he had to bear the burden of both sides. Constantly being pulled by both of his families. It was hard to not see both sides of the debates. Still, taking muggleborns around and explaining things to them, did help.

"I'll do that," Dean said, peering at Flitwick to see which side the man took, but seeing only resignation.

"Good, good. In the meantime, I would take each individual person and weigh them by their merits. How someone treats someone else, is a good way to judge character. Try not to let the past cloud your judgement, but make sure you learn from it nevertheless." He smiled at the boy.

"Sounds good," Dean said, looking up and seeing it was their turn, and then stepping towards the counter where the only happy goblin was. "Hello," he said, looking at the nameplate, "Swifttooth. I need to exchange money today. Can you tell me how much I can get with two hundred pounds?" he asked, holding his hand to the professor, who was keeping his money safe. His mum didn't trust him to hold it, and made the professor promise to keep it until they got to the bank, and not to let the boy spend it frivolously.

"Forty galleons," the teller said, counting out the money Filius handed him. "Filius, another muggleborn I see." He then placed the galleons in a bag and handed it to the child. He was still in a good mood from the young girl who found out she was not a muggleborn. More money in the market, so to speak. That made any goblin smile.

"Well…" started Dean, he didn't want to interrupt, but it might be important, "we're not exactly sure. See my dad disappeared before I was born. My mum now thinks he might have been a wizard."

"Really?" Swifttooth said, pulling out an inheritance parchment. "Prick your finger and smear the blood here, at the top line, and we'll see who your father was. If he was a wizard." He held out a clean hatpin.

"Sure," the excited boy said, grabbing the pin and doing as instructed. The blood glowed then formed the name Leslie.

"Well now, this is marvelous," Swifttooth stated, taking the parchment back.

"Why?" Dean asked, his eyes glued to the parchment.

"I knew your father, Loaghaire was his name. He had come in just like you, thinking himself to be muggleborn, and like you, he was wrong. The Leslie name was long thought dead, and your father claimed the vault. He made quite a killing in his investments. Last I heard of him, unfortunately, was that he was killed by Death Eaters."

"What's a Death Eater?" the boy growled his question, fire burning in his eyes.

"They are followers of the last Dark Lord that was running around. They wanted him to join that side of the war, and he refused. Shame really, he died right before Harry Potter vanquished said Dark Lord. Had he hidden a while longer, he might be alive today."

At that, Dean's face fell.

"I am terribly sorry for your loss," Swifttooth continued. "However, I will make sure the ledger to that account is posted to you as soon as possible. It will arrive by owl in a few days. Bring your guardian in and the vault will be validated. The money you just exchange will cover your school cost in the meantime." The goblin shook his head sadly in remembrance. The boy's father had been a nice young man, when Swifttooth knew him. It was ashamed he never met his son, who also looked to be a good lad.

Dean's anger diminished and he sighed a very depressed sigh. While it was great to know that his father hadn't abandoned him and his mum, he had hoped the man was still alive. Still, it was better to know.

"Thanks for telling me. Can I have a copy of that?" he asked, so he could show it to his mum. She had never mentioned his dad's name, but maybe it was too painful, what with her thinking he ran off when he found out she was pregnant. Now that he knew the story, he could set it right with her, and they could look at the man with some reverence, for standing up to the enemy.

He did vow to himself to learn of the people who had denied him his father. They would rue the day they did that. He was more determined than ever to learn all he could, so he could keep that promise.

Flitwick put his hand on the sad boy's arm. "I am sorry that you found out this way," he said. Then led the child out of the bank. "Let's get some ice cream, my treat, and give you a moment to get this all straight in your head. If you want, I can take you home, or we can finish our shopping and you can mull this over a bit longer."

"Thanks, Professor, I'd like some ice cream," the dazed boy said, following along behind the tiny man. It was a trying day. First finding out he was a wizard, then then finding out his dad hadn't left his mum. Maybe some magical ice cream would make it all seem okay. He perked up a bit at that and put his hope in the magical world to boost up his moral.

After all, it was magic.