Harry Potter had been waiting in his account manager's office for several hours when the door finally opened. Turning at the sound, Harry's face lit up in a grin.

"Hello, Griphook!" he said, cheerfully.

The goblin paused in the doorway, an odd expression on his face. Harry couldn't tell if Griphook was surprised that Harry recognized him, or if there was some issue with his account. Either way, Harry knew that Griphook could fix everything. He always did, after all.

At the back of his mind, a (very small) part of Harry wondered why it was that he always seemed to run into Griphook when he visited Gringott's. But it wasn't really important, and the thought passed unnoticed.

With a sigh, the goblin crossed the room and took his seat at the desk. Skipping the preliminaries, he dove right into the bad news.

"Lord Potter, I'm afraid that Gringott's can no longer do business with the House of Potter."

Harry blinked at the goblin, stunned. Ever since he had learned about his family's wealth, he had taken an interest in putting that wealth to work. He wanted the money to grow, but more importantly he wanted to make sure it was there when he needed it. The goblins of Gringott's had been quite helpful in educating him and helping him plan for the future. The cost of their time was well worth it.

He had helped the goblins make a lot of money. And now, they wanted him (and his galleons) out?

Carefully adopting a neutral expression, Harry looked his account manager in the eye. "May I ask the reason, Griphook?"

A scowl crossed the goblin's features, but he said nothing. Instead, he opened a folder and read through a piece of parchment.

"In July of this year, you verbally insulted Accounts Manager Thotgrim on the floor of the bank. This was ignored at the time, due to your status as a preferred customer, though I was forced to pay a penalty on your behalf to my esteemed colleague." The goblin continued to read through the file.

Harry had visited the bank in July, he remembered. There had been nothing remarkable about the visit, really. He had seen Griphook on the floor of the bank, serving as the manager on duty, and had decided to walk over. After some grumbling, Griphook agreed to fetch some pound notes for him.

Shaking his head, Harry looked at his account manager. "I only worked with you that day, if I recall. You seemed annoyed, but honestly that's normal, am I right?" Harry grinned at the joke, hoping to ratchet down the tension in the room, but to no avail. The goblin met him with a cold glare.

"Mister Potter, I will continue now. Later that same month, you came to the bank again, this time to visit your heirloom vault. Again, you accosted the senior manager on duty and insulted him verbally. Again, I was forced to pay a penalty as a result."

Again, Harry shook his head. "You didn't say anything at the time, Griphook. You just took me to the cart and down to my vault."

"Did I?" the goblin replied, testily.

"I remember it quite clearly, sir," countered Harry, now quite annoyed.

"Be that as it may," continued the goblin. "Neither of these incidents was cause for concern. We make allowances for the foolishness of the wand wavers," and here he glared at Harry. "In the long term, such nonsense is planned for, and has no impact on our operations."

Harry gave the goblin a puzzled look. "What is planned for, exactly?"

The goblin sneered. "We know well what wizards think of the Nation, Mister Potter. Though, truthfully, I expected better from you, of all people."

"Me?" Harry sputtered.

"Just so," confirmed the goblin. He then looked at his parchment and continued the recitation of Harry's apparently numerous crimes. "The third and final incident occurred two weeks ago, on the ninth of August. Again, you approached the manager on duty, not seeing fit to go to a teller like a proper customer. Again, you verbally insulted the manager, and again, I was called to account."

Harry's brow furrowed. "I recall nothing out of the ordinary, Griphook."

Whatever frustration the goblin had been fighting seemed to boil over at that, for suddenly a knife had been planted in the desk. The goblin was standing now, pointing a bony finger angrily at Harry's astonished face.

With a snarl, the goblin's rage exploded. "Look, you stupid bastard, my name is Wingblade. WING. BLADE. I have been the Potter Accounts Manager since your grandfather was in nappies. In July, you wandered in here and treated one of our senior managers like a cart goblin. Then, the next time you visited, you walked up to Felgazim, our Foreign Accounts Manager, and again treated one of our most senior managers like an errand boy!"

"I…. what?" Harry couldn't process what was happening, and withered in the face of Griphook…. No, Wingblade's anger.

"And then," Wingblade continued, ignoring Harry. "AND THEN, you chose to visit the bank on the one day a year when our Director, Ragnok of the Clan Ragnok, Seventh of his Name, chooses to work the floor of the bank, for old time's sake, you walk up and make him fetch you galleons."

"But… I thought…."

"No you bloody well didn't!" Wingblade snarled. "Griphook is a cart goblin! He drives the carts down the tracks, and drives them back up. He remains a cart goblin because he can't add to save his life! About the only think the wretch is good for is manual labor."

"He was so nice to me, though." Harry said, weakly.

"Good for you. But that doesn't mean that you get to flounce about the bank, acting like every goblin looks the same." Wingblade shook his head, sadly. "Ragnok was beside himself, and the Director is a very laid back sort. Do you know how rude you had to be to get him that angry?"

"I didn't mean to," said Harry.

"That makes it worse!" shouted Wingblade. "You walked in here, and thought you'd be nice to the little goblin workers, and maybe they'd run off to fetch your paper money with a spring in their step and a smile on their little faces." He shook his head again. "Wand wavers. You think parrotting a stupid greeting makes you a Friend of the Nation. Bollocks. After all, you can tell your friends apart, can't you boy?"

Harry was aghast. "What can I do to fix it?"

"We're long past that, Mister Potter."

"I mean, I don't want to insult anyone. I didn't mean anything by it, I grew up in the muggle world, this is all still new to me." Harry's face brightened. "I know, what if I learned Gobbledegook? Would that help?"

Wingblade stared at the human before him. "Did you just…?" After the shock passed, the goblin gave Harry a look of utter contempt. "Get out."

Harry sat back in his chair, as if to put distance between himself and the now very angry goblin. "I'm sorry?"

Another knife embedded itself in the desk. Harry wondered where Wingblade had been hiding it.

"Go to China, Mister Potter. Walk up to the first person you encounter there. Ask him if he will teach you his ching chong language." Wingblade smirked at the look of horror crossed Harry's face. Perhaps the boy could be taught, after all. "Then think long and hard on what you said today, and why it got you kicked out of Gringott's bank."

A/N: One of the hallmarks of a story where Harry acquires wealth and influence is the moment where he recognizes Griphook in the bank, and such a kind gesture astonishes the jaded goblins, who immediately declare Harry to be FRIEND OF THE GOBLIN NATION or some such. Here, I took that idea in a bit of a different direction.

The Gobbledegook reference first appeared in Harry Potter, et al, and the Keystone Council, where a Goblin-raised Harry Potter takes offence at the term. It seemed to fit well here, so you have my apologies if it seemed familiar.

Feedback, as always, is welcome.