With a huff, Stebbins went to see how his three aurors were doing interviewing witnesses and, if possible, vent his spleen at them for being slow, negligent, annoying, or whatever excuse he could find. He didn't like how the goblins near made him unintentionally dump a log in his 'undies' and someone needed to feel his ire.
After being forced to drink a 'Dirty Socks' and a 'Rotten Cabbage' potion - at least, that's what they tasted like to him - the Gringotts' on-staff healers let Harry relax for a while as they did their job on him.
He was now sitting on a bed in the little-known Gringotts infirmary. Luna sat with him on the bed, holding his hand.
With a sigh, he said, "That was far too close for comfort, Luna. If I hadn't been able to contain that Fiendfyre..." "Everyone in the bank... humans, goblins, house elves and all... would have been killed; burnt to death," she finished. "Yes."
"You had to know what was going to happen," he grumped. "Why did you put yourself at risk like that?"
"Me, being in the banking hall, is what helped you resolve your will to defeat the Fiendfyre," she calmly replied. "I Saw that, if I was in there, you would be successful in containing it before it got out of control and killed hundreds.
"Further, we're about to receive a very angry Ragnok visiting us. Be humble and accepting."
"Hunh?" he asked, turning to look at her.
The doors slammed open and Harry spun to the sound, ready to draw his wand; prohibition against drawing weapons in Gringotts or not.
Ragnok, with two guards at his heels, had stormed in. He stopped well short of Harry and glared at him for a long moment.
Finally, he demanded, "Are you trying to own my worthless carcass, Lord Peverell?"
Harry cocked an eyebrow in surprise, hesitated a moment and asked right back, "Why, in Merlin's name, would you go thinking that?"
"Because you just went and protected this bank, at the risk of your own life, from a gar'brek snot of a wizard who cast demon-infested cursed fire right at the doors of my bank!" The last was with an almost-shouted bark.
"Actually, he cast it at me," replied Harry. "I just happened to be, at the time, standing in front of said doors."
"Irrelevant!" snapped Ragnok.
Harry was about to argue the point when Luna suddenly squeezed his hand. He realised what she was trying to say to him. 'Be quiet. Don't argue.'
"Gringotts's axe, Po- Peverell!" snarled Ragnok, as he started to pace back and forth at the foot of Harry's bed. "Now I've got to go and do something it really irritates me to do!"
"Oh?" asked Harry. "How may I help?"
Ragnok whirled on him and actually growled.
In a normal wizard, that might have made them come close to soiling themselves, if not actually soiling themselves. In Harry, it just amused him a little. He knew the goblin would not harm him.
Finally, the near-incensed goblin stopped glaring at him, looked away and sighed. "I need to bestow upon you a Warrior's Honour."
'Be humble and accepting,' Harry thought. 'This is what Luna meant.' "I... do not know what to say, Axe Lord Ragnok," he carefully said. "Is... 'thank you' appropriate?"
Ragnok gave a huff of either annoyance or amusement before he growled. "Yes."
"May I know the nature of this... warrior's honour?" he asked.
Ragnok looked away and muttered something Ghob-laen, the goblin tongue, before he looked back and growled, "A reduction in bank fees of fifty percent, an increase in returns of five percent, free medical treatment for injuries sustained in battle and...," grumbling, "Recognition of your heroism before the High Council."
The look on the faces of the two healers, who'd stepped well away but clearly overheard, told Harry this was a 'big thing'.
Harry gave a nod and replied, "Thank you, Axe Lord. I am honoured to accept." Ragnok gave another huff and barked, "Done!" Then, without a further word, stormed back out again. His two guards had to hurry to catch up.
As soon as the doors swung shut, Luna lightly giggled.
Turning to her, he asked, "Just how big is..." And gestured to where Ragnok had stood. "This?"
"Very," she replied. "Being recognised for your heroism on behalf of the Goblin Nation, not just the bank, means your name goes down on the Rolls of Honour. In a few years, baby goblins are going to be accorded the name 'Harry' in your honour until they earn their blood names. And they will grow up hearing the story of your brave deeds."
"Poor kids," he muttered.
That had his girlfriend - and he was surprised he hadn't already thought of her in that way before then - more openly laugh. "Mups, Harry," she chuckled. "Goblin children are referred to as 'mups'."
Dumbledore was lying in a bed in the Hogwarts infirmary, after only just getting his left arm reattached where it was severed just above the elbow, when six aurors walked in; Master Auror Proudfoot leading.
Still doped up on the pain potions he had to take for the 'reattachment', he was confused to see them.
"What can I do for you... Auror?" he slowly asked.
"You're under arrest, you stupid sack of shit!" snarled Proudfoot.
Not alarmed at how he was addressed due to the pain medication, Dumbledore asked, "I am?" "You cast Fiendfyre in Diagon Alley!" snapped the auror. "Not only that, but as soon as you did you scarpered.
"You're charged with criminal endangerment of one hundred plus innocent witches and wizards. You're under house-arrest. For the time being, because you're currently under healer-care, your cell is this very room.
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