The meeting with Barbara Lancaster illuminated that we had a lot to do before we were ready to release the Firebolt. We had less than a year to get everything ready if we wanted to release the Firebolt at the same time as the Nimbus 2001.

As August wore on, Dad threw himself back into work. I split my time between learning new spells and working on my personal spell.

One evening Dad informed me he had set up a meeting with the goblins clan he had contracted to build the gear he needed for the Firebolt. They were a relatively small goblin clan by the name of Sharpclaw, and he had done business with them in the past.

I decided since our family was going to be getting into bed with goblins. It would be a wise idea to get more in-depth information about them. Outside of the occasional goblin rebellion, not much about them is taught at Hogwarts.

Although their society isn't covered in any of the primary textbooks, I figured that with the size of the Hogwarts Library, there had to be some decent books about goblins.

My faith in the library was rewarded, even if I didn't step one foot inside the library. The Room of Requirement was quicker and far more thorough than spending hours hunting through stacks of books. Part of me mused that Hermoine would probably be offended with how I bypass students who traditionally have to hunt for knowledge in the stacks. I get the feeling that she will like rummaging through the library.

But, to me, the room is way better. Why spend hours in the library hunting through thousands of books? When all I have to do is offer up a simple request for what I am looking for, and the room provides all. So help me, I will find a way to replicate this spell. I've gotten used to having things delivered with no effort on my part. I refuse to go back to doing things the normal way.

The first couple of books I skimmed through made me sigh in disappointment. They reminded me of all the garbage I had read when I was studying up on vampires. They were full of derogatory thoughts and assumptions about Goblins. Wizards can sometimes be very condescending when it comes to other magical races.

Eventually, I found an interesting book written by a wizard by the name of Gabriel Stars. He was able to develop a sort of kinship with a clan of goblins.

Reading his book illuminated the origins of some of the problems that have developed between wizards and goblin. After reading the book, I would say the biggest problem is our cultures are so different, and there is a general lack of interest in understanding one another.

For instance, goblins often refer to wizards as liars and thieves. This is because when a goblin makes a bargain with a witch or wizard, they assume their agreement will be passed on through their bloodline. When it inevitably doesn't, the goblin who made the agreement will accuse the descendant of lying and breaking a bargain.

Wizards, of course, view this as pure nonsense. How could someone who didn't make the bargain be held responsible for one of their ancestor's choices?

It doesn't help when goblins wait centuries before approaching the family whose ancestors supposedly made the agreement and demand things agreed upon hundreds of years prior. Many wizards assume that goblins wait deliberately for centuries, so that time muddies the waters and they can twist the agreement in their favor.

In the end, most magical families will completely ignore the goblin in question. Which circles back to goblins accusing wizards of being liars. To be honest, both sides have a point in this. But, they are too stubborn and are happy to go about hating one another rather than working things out rationally.

Adding the tension between cultures is when Goblins accuse wizards of being thieves because of issues over ownership of goblin-forged objects. In goblin society, only the smith who forged the item is the true owner. So, when a wizard buys something from a goblin, they argue that they are renting the object, and upon death, ownership should revert to goblins, or the family can pay to rent the object for another lifetime.

Witches and wizards naturally object to the idea that their family should have to pay for an object multiple times. This aspect of goblin culture has led many wizards to believe that goblins are greedy and trying to drain gold from wizards.

While I had mixed feelings on agreements made between wizards and goblins, I was solely on the side of my fellow wizards on this issue of ownership. In my opinion, it was unreasonable for goblins to claim ownership of things that are sold by them. Even more so, because they don't tell the person they are selling to that to them, they are only renting the object. Only after their death, do they come forward and try to reclaim the object. One of the most famous cases involves the sword of Gryffindor, which goblins claim ownership.

All of this has led to a decrease in the market of Goblin enchanted objects. Most wizards prefer not to get tangled up with goblins and their feuds. Goblins take their quarrels very seriously and have no issue with them lasting generations. Many wizards have approached goblins in good faith, only to realize that one of their ancestors offended a goblin clan.

All of this made me realize that Barbara's suggestion to give the goblin clan a stake in the company was the correct move. The ownership issue would be neatly sidestepped because they would already own a piece of the company and would continue to profit throughout the years.

Towards the end of the book, I picked up another valuable piece of information. Apparently, there were many different status goblins assigned to their trading partners. From dishonest partner to blood-kin, there were about a dozen different statures they can label you with. The higher the status, the more honest their dealing was. I rolled my eyes when I read that most wizards fell somewhere between dishonest partners to foolish rube.

The level of status assigned was mostly based on how much of a benefit or wealth you bring to the clan. Your status could also be increased if you provided a great service or boon to the clan.

The highest possible status was to be considered blood kin. At that point, the goblin clan would consider you kin, and your enemies would become theirs and vice versa.

The amount of money the Firebolt should make the clan should at least grant us the status of a favored trading partner. While it would be nice to attain the status of blood kin, I'm not sure how it would be possible, or if it would be worth the trouble.

Closing the book, I nearly had a heart attack when I noticed the Bronze Eagle was standing silently right behind me. I didn't like that something that big could be so quiet when it moved.

"Merlin's Bloody Piss!" I cursed. "I've told you to stop doing that."

Although the Eagle couldn't do expressions very well, he somehow oozed smugness at catching me off guard. "I thought you were working on your awareness." The Eagle teased.

The Eagle craned it's neck over my head looking down at my reading material. "Goblins." The statue sneered in distaste. "Why are you studying up on goblins?"

"My family is about to set up a business arrangement with them, and I wanted more information on their society," I explained.

In the same disproving tone, the Eagle warned, "Goblins aren't to be trusted."

"How would you know?" I scoffed. "Have you dealt with goblins before?

"Not personally," The Eagle sniffed in disdain. "But, the founders had to deal with a goblin clan deep in the mountains."

My eyebrows rose in surprise. "Really? I've read Hogwarts, A History, and there isn't anything in there about the founders having to deal with goblins."

"History is written by the victors, and the founders didn't want word getting out what happened. It could have ruined everything." The Eagle explained.

"What do you mean? Did they do something wrong?" I asked.

The Eagle shrugged its wings. "It's complicated," The statue explained. "When Rowena, Godric, Salazar, and Helga built Hogwarts, they didn't realize that there was a goblin den a few dozen miles to the south. Once they realized that there was a goblin clan nearby, Helga was sent to draft a treaty of noninterference. I'm not sure of the exact details, but it essentially boiled down to staying out of each other's territory and leaving each other alone."

Sensing that the story was about to get darker, I mused, "I'm guessing someone did something stupid."

Once again, the Eagle shrugged, "I wouldn't say stupid, more like unfortunate occurrence. Back then, there wasn't any official way for students to come to school. Some flew by broomstick, others rode creatures, or had carriages bring them. A few years after opening the school, a carriage carrying a few students went through land belonging to the goblin. Curious about the goblin den, they made the mistake of going underground and trespassing. Long story short, two students were killed, and a third barely escaped with her life but missing a few fingers."Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

I winced when I heard about the deaths. Wizards, as a rule, tended to respond poorly when a goblin killed a wizard, and that doesn't even take into account that the students were underage. Right or wrong, more than one goblin war has been started over the death of a wizard.

"What happened next?" I asked in a morbid tone, half-sure of the ending.

The Eagle let out a sigh, which was curious because it didn't need to breathe. "Godric and Salazar were both furious. Each of them had lost a student, and when the four founders gathered to discuss a response, they advocated for immediate retaliation. Always the peacemaker, Helga pleaded for cooler heads to prevail. At first, her plea seemed to succeed, and some of the fire left Godric. But, Rowena cooly pointed out that if they didn't respond, Hogwarts would most likely fail. You see, back then, there were no schools of magic. Families passed down and taught their kids magic. The idea of sending your children away was very new, and many were still skeptical of the idea. If word got out that students were being killed. Parents would probably refuse to send their kids to school."

"I take it that they dealt with the goblins then?"

The Eagle shook its bronze beak, "No, it turned out to be a moot point. While the founders discussed and debated what to do, they didn't realize that a student took matters into his own hands. Salazar's prized and most skilled pupil, Merlin, was incensed at the assault. The surviving girl, Morgana Le Fay, was a dear friend of his, for whom he cared a great deal. At high noon, he launched a lone assault upon the goblin den, and by nightfall, there were none left alive."

"Wait, Merlin was a Slytherin?" I asked.

The Eagle cocked his head curiously, "Yes, he was the most talented pupil ever taught by Salazar. Although they disagreed on some things, they were quite close."

I tried to wrap my head around Merlin being a Slytherin. Somehow that little tidbit didn't make it into the history books. I wonder if that knowledge has been deliberately ignored.

Turning my mind back to the matter, I asked. "How did the Founders react to what Merlin did?"

"Salazar was pleased with the demonstration of his student's prowess and decisive action. Godric was displeased that a student acted without them, and he didn't think it was a proportionate response. Helga was furious because she had wanted a peaceful solution, and Rowena didn't care, she was satisfied that the situation was dealt with."

"How come none of this is in the history books?" I asked.

The Eagle shook its head and pointed out, "Having it known that students were killed would have been bad for Hogwarts. So, Rowena cast several high-order spells to make all the students forget what happened. I'm not sure what happened to the parents, but in the end, they didn't make a fuss, and so the terrible incident became a forgotten memory, known only to a few."

I spent a few more hours researching goblins. I found dozens of stories similar to the story the Eagle told me. Wizards and goblins had been happily killing each other for centuries. It was challenging to say what side held more responsibility. Both sides had made mistakes and held blame in the wars that happened over the centuries.

But, it is undeniable that wizards hold a clear advantage over goblins. The magic we use from our wands has allowed wizard-kind to advance our powers, while Goblin magic is at a standstill. Their magic is subtle, and from what I can tell, has something to do with earthy material. More than once, Goblins have advocated for the right to bear wands. Not once, have wizards budged on the issue.

While I sympathized with goblins wanting to expand their powers, I also understood where wizards were coming from. Why give your enemy the chance to advance and grow their power, when that power would one day be directed at you?

In the Room of Requirement, I also grabbed a few books on Gobbledegook. Ever since meeting the goblin who shortchanged me at Gringotts, I had wanted to start learning the goblin language. If my family were going to be dealing with goblins more, it would probably be good to know what they are saying. It may even offer me a slight advantage when dealing with them, as most wizards don't bother learning their language.

As August neared its end, the meeting with the Sharpclaw Clan rapidly approached. Mum wasn't that pleased that Dad was planning on bringing me along, but after some convincing, she grudgingly allowed me to tag along.

Soon the day of the meeting arrived, and before I knew it, it was nearly time for us to leave. Searching the house, I found Dad in his study organizing files into his briefcase.

The glow of the fireplace sent streaks of warm light throughout the room, forcing shadows to hide in the corners. I was tempted to whistle when I saw Dad. Grandma had clearly passed on her lessons on how to use one's appearance as a tool.

The sparse grey flicks of hair that had recently been showing up in his dark, brown hair had been banished. His stubble-beard had been neatly groomed. Adding to his appearance was a set of silky black wizarding robes that had an emblem of a feather crossed with a wand. It was the official symbol of the charm-crafting guild. The emblem was stitched in gold, signifying that he had reached the third and highest level of skill recognized by the guild.

I can't help but feel proud when I see the golden symbol on Dad's dark robes. There is a reason why he is one of the most trusted enchanters in Diagon Alley. Becoming a gold-level enchanter wasn't easy.

Most members of the guild begin at bronze, which is the lowest tier available. Most bronze level members were young and just out of school, still perfecting their craft. If someone can't make it to the next level within a decade, they often leave the guild recognizing that they don't have the skill to be an enchanter for a living.

The next level up is silver and is where the vast majority of the guild remain throughout their lives. Silver level enchanters were the backbone of the enchanting industry. Most witches and wizards refuse even to consider shopping at a store if it doesn't have at least a silver emblem. The emblem is almost like a guarantee that the products sold have decent quality, and the spells will last.

The last rank is gold, the highest level available. This level is what separates the great from the average. Gold level members are skilled enough to innovate with their spells, whereas silver level members are not skilled or creative enough. Only a small portion of the guild ever reaches that level.

Dad isn't too fond of the guild, other than the small symbol on the window of his shop, I've only seen him use the symbol outside of his shop a handful of times. He claims it's ostentatious and is like walking around with a sign that says, look how great I am. But, he does acknowledge that the guild is a great way to build contacts in the enchanting world.

Unable to contain the nervous energy, I pleaded, "Come on, we're going to be late."

Spouting off some of my new-found knowledge about goblins, I explained, "We need to go if we're going to make it on time. Nothing angers a goblin more than someone being late to a meeting. They consider it to be the height of rudeness."

Dad gave me an exasperated look from his desk, where he was organizing his work. I paused when I saw the dark bags under his eyes that indicated he was exhausted. "Were not going to be late, Alex. I almost have everything I need for the meeting."

After a few more minutes of organizing all his papers into a briefcase, Dad looked me over, making sure I was also dressed to impress.

Like Dad, I utilized Grandma's lessons and had selected a set of deep midnight blue robes. Stitched onto the robe was a bronze hawk surrounded by stars, our family crest. Of course, the hawk wasn't content to stay in one place and tended to flap its wings and periodically shift its location.

I didn't have to do much else to make myself presentable. To Mum's dismay, when I got home from school during the summer, I decided to cut my dirty-blond hair short. I had less than an inch of hair on top, and down by my ears, I buzzed my hair down to almost nothing and carefully blended to the top.

After looking me over, Dad simply nodded, satisfied with my appearance, "Come on, we don't want to be late."

I held back a retort that I had been ready for an hour. I sensed it would only annoy him, and I didn't want to chance being left behind. Outside, Dad motioned for me to follow him to the road. "Are we taking the Knight Bus?" I asked curiously.

"No," Dad replied, "We're going off the beaten track, where the Knight Bus doesn't go."

Dad grabbed my arm tight and said, "I know you've apparated before, so you know what to expect."

I couldn't help but grimace in anticipation. Apparating was bloody useful, but the sensation was the worst. Before I knew it, darkness was all I could see, along with the uncomfortable feeling of being forced through a small rubber tube that seemed to do its very best to force me into a smaller tube-like shape permanently. Just as the sensation of not being able to breath became too much, the world blinked back into existence.

Standing before me was a small mountain covered in sharp jagged rocks that warned you that you might need a new pair of shoes should you reach the top. Looking around, I saw we were in the middle of nowhere. No wonder we couldn't take the Knight Bus.

As I was scanning the mountain, a small hole opened in the side of the mountain. Two goblins approached us silently. They were both wearing dark suits that could easily pass in the muggle world. Their faces were blank, perhaps in an attempt to hide their feeling on allowing two wizards into their home.

I couldn't tell if allowing us into their home was a good thing or not. One one hand, showing us where they live could be a sign of trust, and on the other, their home is the one place goblins could get away with ambushing and killing us. All the reading I did, illuminated that most wizards killed by goblins did so underground.

The idea of being able to use wandless Legitimacy couldn't help but occur to me. No wonder Dumbledore and Voldemort couldn't help but use it all the time. Being able to get a peek at the goblin's plans would be bloody useful right now. I let out a small sigh of regret. It was something else I needed to add to my list of ever-growing things to learn.

The goblin on the right, glanced at me with his dark slanted eyes when I let out my small sigh. Without pause, the goblin on the left hissed in annoyance, "When we set this meeting, it was with the understanding that there would be only one wizard in attendance, Mr. Fawley."

Dad shrugged off the complaint. "Gragnast, This is my son, Alex. Since he is underage, I'm sure he doesn't fit the requirement of a full wizard."

I carefully made sure my expression was blank. Dad played that very nicely. The goblins probably weren't even annoyed when I was here. They know that we were here to negotiate a deal. They were just trying to seize a slight advantage before negotiations had even started, by acting like Dad was up to something suspicious.

When he countered that I was underage and shouldn't count, he put the ball back in their court. Either they could take a slight advantage in the negotiations by admitting they were intimidated by a thirteen, almost fourteen old wizard, or they could ignore the fact that I was a wizard on account of me being underage.

I could see in Gragnast's dark eyes, both annoyance, and pleasure. He seemed to be annoyed that Dad escaped the trap but also pleased at his wit. Goblins enjoy a good verbal jousting. The exchange also allowed the Gragnast to get a sense of Dad's personality. Whatever his response had been, it would have given them a small glimpse at the type of wizard they were dealing with. There were a lot of layers to the opening greeting. I gave a mental sigh, we would have to be on our toes tonight

Gragnast smiled, showing us his sharp teeth, "Very well, I welcome both of you to our clan. May we both profit from this meeting."

Turning sharply, Gragnast marched back to the small opening. I tried not to roll my eyes when I saw we would have to crouch to get through the small door. They surely had larger doors, but I have a feeling that Gragnast is probably making us use this one as a way of getting back at Dad for not falling into his verbal trap. Did I mention that goblins can be petty?

Taking a deep breath, I ducked down and entered the mountain.