"This way Harry. Say, 'Gringotts Wizarding Bank' and you'll be taken straight to the main Lobby." Dumbledore directed, "Regrettably, I am not permitted to accompany you, but the Goblins will provide you with Floo Access for the return trip. Simply say, 'Hogwarts, Headmasters Office' in order to return here once your meeting is concluded."
"A-Alright…" Harry said while he eyed the green flames nervously. The first time he had travelled by Floo Powder, he had ended up in Knockturn Ally, the Darker, seedier cousin to Diagon Ally and he did not wish to go there again if at all possible. He had worked out that he should have spoken as an exhale, rather than doing a big inhale as he had done the first time, so resolved to not make the same mistake this time.
Taking a deep breath, Harry stepped into the green flames and shouting, "Gringotts Wizarding Bank!" and vanished.
The travel was just as nauseating as it had been before, making Harry wonder if all the other methods of wizarding travel, broomsticks aside, were as uncomfortable as Floo Travel.
He fell out of the fireplace at the end, ending up arse-over-teakettle somehow and fought his way to his feet, muttering expletives about the Floo Network under his breath.
He looked around once he had recovered sufficiently. It was a fairly large room with a modest desk in the centre and a chair on either end. A goblin was standing next to the desk, looking rather amused at Harry's difficulties with Floo travel.
"Mr Harry Potter, I presume?" the Goblin enquired politely.
"Er…yes. I was told that the Goblins of Gringotts wished to speak to me…?" Harry replied nervously.
"Indeed we do, Mr Potter, indeed we do." the Goblin replied, "Your Account manager will be along momentarily. I am Bludbank, and I am here to greet you. Do you wish refreshments?"
"Will it offend your hospitality if I don't have something?" Harry asked, "I ask because I don't really know a lot about Goblin etiquette."
"Most wizards assume we have none, but yes, it would be offensive." Bludbank replied, looking a touch impressed, "It would imply that you do not trust us not to poison or potion you, which we would never do, as it is bad for business."
"OK then, can I have some pumpkin juice please?" Harry asked.
Bludbank lazily waved one hand and a jug of pumpkin juice appeared on the table, accompanied by a silver goblet. Harry swore to look up silent casting when he got back to Hogwarts.
"Is there anything else I need to know for the meeting?" Harry asked, "I'm afraid I'm muggle-raised and know very little about the Magical World as a whole."
"Hmmm… a scion of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Potter who doesn't know about etiquette…" Bludbank mused, "Very well then. Do not sit until Account Manager Rockclaw sits. Do not drink while he is speaking and address him as 'Account Manager' or 'Master Goblin' at all times, unless he invites you to call him by his name. Moreover, above all else, do not make mention of your History of Magic Professor Cuthbert Binns. Account Manager Rockclaw cordially detests the ghost professor and has petitioned the Ministry to have a new teacher installed in the History of Magic class at Hogwarts for the past sixty years, ever since his death."
"He'd have my support." Harry remarked, "Only one of my year mates keeps awake in Binns' class."
"Doubtless." Bludbank said dryly, "Now, I must take my leave, Mister Potter. Time is Galleons, after all."
"I hope your endeavours are successful then." Harry said with a nod.
"And may your coffers never run dry." Bludbank replied with a small bow, before exiting through the only door.
Harry trotted over to the jug and poured himself a goblet of pumpkin juice. When he sipped it, it was nicely chilled, exactly as he liked it.
"Mister Potter?" a voice said from the direction of the door, startling Harry slightly. Placing his goblet carefully on the table, Harry turned to see yet another Goblin standing at the door, carrying what looked like an old-fashioned doctors bag.
"Account Manager Rockclaw?" Harry asked cautiously.
"Indeed I am, Mr Potter." Rockclaw replied, "We ordinarily would not have met until your thirteenth year had begun, but circumstances this year have…altered schedules somewhat."
"I…see." Harry said in confusion. The Goblin was deliberately speaking in riddles now, he was sure.
Let us sit down so we can get to the matter at hand then." Rockclaw said and walked towards the desk and sat on his chair. Harry hastily sat down as well and took another sip of pumpkin juice.
"Now then…the reason you have been called here several months early, Mr Potter, is because a pair of ancient and rarely used laws have been invoked in your name and by your actions."
"Invoked because of something I've done? What laws have I broken this time?" Harry asked with an eye roll. The last law he had supposedly broken (the actual culprit being a certain excitable House-Elf named Dobby) had been the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, earning him a warning from the Improper Use of Magic Office and virtual imprisonment in Number 4, Privet Drive by his Uncle.
"Broken laws?" Rockclaw raised one whitened eyebrow, "You are labouring under the misapprehension that you are in trouble for some reason, Mr Potter. Rather, the situation is quite to the contrary."
The Account Manager paused for a moment before continuing, his voice solemn.
"You see, the way things work in Magical Britain is, by muggle standards, backwards. Perhaps a better word to use would be 'antiquated' instead." Rockclaw explained, "The ancient laws are bound to magic, which is ruled by intent, rather than to the whims of men, who would twist them to their own devices. In this case, one law detected that you fulfil a series of conditions for its activation. This in turn, because of some other conditions, activated the second law."