Sean was learning for the first time that something like friendship could be weighed on a scale and assigned a value.
He had a faint feeling that goblin contract magic really was one of their greatest secrets, just like wandmaking was for wizards.
They were willing to pay such an enormous price just to obtain something as intangible as a promise?
"Why?"
The young wizard spoke.
His voice was as calm as a still lake, yet in Vernar's heart it stirred a storm.
"You'll understand. If you want to take a piece of wealth from our underground vaults that was never yours to begin with, then that is the price."
The elderly goblin answered in a low voice.
"My master means the two are not equal in value."
Professor Quirrell reminded him with a trace of pride.
He tilted his head. The young wizard was nodding at him and giving him a gentle look.
As expected, goblins simply could not comprehend what his master's position in the magical world truly meant.
"Watch your words, wand-bearer,"
the old goblin said, swallowing down his anger. His eyes shifted, and he turned back to Sean.
"This is our offer, sir. Once you see the magical inheritance in question, you'll know it is more than worth the price."
"Wand-bearer?"
Sean repeated.
"The right to bear a wand,"
the old goblin said heavily,
"has long been something goblins and wizards have fought over. We may cast wandlessly, but that is not the same thing. Wizards refuse to let other magical beings share the secrets of wandcraft. They refuse to let us expand our power. They even seek to unleash slaughter once again—especially with—the Dark Lord—"
"So…"
Sean realized something.
"There is no second choice in this world, sir. When the Dark Lord grew stronger, wizardkind only cemented its place above us all the more. Gringotts would be controlled by wizards. House-elves would be slaughtered…"
He was trembling now, and the pride of a goblin was gone from his face.
"We are placing our bet on you, sir. Your failure will be the goblins' failure. Your success will let the goblins bask in the same glory."
Sean fell silent for a moment.
"You've got good judgment."
Professor Quirrell muttered quietly.
"What exactly do you know?"
Sean felt he might have underestimated the goblin intelligence network.
They seemed to stand outside the wizarding world, but the truth was likely the opposite.
"Oh, if Gringotts is to believe that any wizard exists who seeks no personal advantage and could become an ally…"
said Vernar,
"then it is you. Goblins and house-elves alike rarely receive protection or respect from wizards—from wand-bearers."
"You investigated my master—"
Quirrell's voice rose sharply, full of danger.
He even drew his wand, making the goblins around them flinch.
And if they hadn't seen wrongly, why was that wand glowing green?
"Everyone in the magical world is investigating Hermes, the one who returned crowned in honor,"
the elderly goblin said softly.
"You may kill me, but that will only make this friendship weigh more heavily."
"You know me quite well?"
Sean asked.
He wanted to know how, exactly, goblins organized their intelligence.
"It is simple for goblins to draw information out of foolish house-elves. We have heard your stories from more than one of them."
The old goblin lowered his eyes as he spoke.
Sean was silent for a few seconds.
Drawing things out by conversation… a very plain, unspectacular method of gathering intelligence.
"We believe that if there is anyone worthy of goblin recognition, it can only be you."
The old goblin said it outright, obediently watching Sean with burning fervor in his eyes.
"Mmm… then…"
Sean thought for a few seconds, then exchanged a glance with Professor Quirrell.
At that moment, he noticed the professor seemed rather anxious.
"Professor?"
he asked softly.
"You're going to agree, sir. Then I must say this, sir: you need to think very carefully about what you intend to get from Gringotts, and what exactly you are agreeing to give in return."
Quirrell lowered his voice and hesitated a moment.
"If you sign any agreement with Gringotts—especially one with wide-reaching implications—you must be extremely careful. Goblins' ideas of ownership, payment, and compensation are not the same as humans'."
It was the first time Sean had heard it put that way.
"What do you mean?"
he asked.
"We are speaking of another species,"
Professor Quirrell said quickly, in the lowest possible voice.
"For many centuries, dealings between wizards and goblins have been full of conflict—you know that perfectly well. Both sides have done wrong. I would never claim wizards are blameless.
However, some goblins—especially Gringotts goblins—believe this:
when it comes to gold and treasure, wizards cannot be trusted, and wizards have no respect for goblin ownership."
"I understand—"
Sean did know this.
"To goblins, the rightful owner of any object is its maker, not its purchaser.
Anything made by goblins is, in their eyes, rightfully theirs.
If it is bought, the goblins see that as a rental arrangement. What they can never accept is a goblin-made object passing from wizard to wizard. I believe most goblins think that once the original buyer dies, the object should be returned to goblin hands. They think our wizard habit of keeping goblin-made things and passing them down from wizard to wizard without further payment is scarcely better than theft."
Professor Quirrell cast a glance at the goblin standing there patiently, without the slightest sign of impatience.
And it was easy enough for Sean to see the problem: wizards thought such contracts were purchase agreements, while goblins thought they were lease agreements.
"You must be especially careful, sir…"
Quirrell let out a low sigh.
"This contract belongs to you, sir. I have never seen goblins offer one like it. They seek your friendship, but they have said nothing about the duration of that friendship."
When Quirrell finished, a strange light was flickering in his eyes.
So long as you are here, the goblins will be your allies—but afterward?
Goblins could not stand against wizardkind now, at least not yet. But afterward?
In his master's eyes, in those gentle eyes, no race in the world was different from any other.
All beings were equal, and to wizardkind, that was the greatest inequality of all.
And Quirrell knew there was only one person in the world who could bear such eyes.
One destined to ascend into legend, to look down upon everything while still caring about everything.
Clever goblins… they had already found the simplest way out of the game.
But what did that have to do with him?
Quirrell thought.
He belonged only to Mr. Green.
In the end, Sean still accepted the goblins' terms.
The old goblin was overjoyed. He bowed deeply.
"Welcome, most honored friend of the goblins. Welcome to Gringotts."
he said.
Gringotts was full of people coming and going, but at that moment everyone froze.
They saw every goblin present bow toward a single direction.
"What's going on?"
someone muttered curiously, standing on tiptoe, but still unable to see the person the goblins were escorting into the VIP room.
"Please follow me."
Vernar's eyes crinkled with delight, as if all his former gravity and restraint had been thrown aside.
Sean's gaze flickered.
Clearly, he was thinking of something else.
While his plans regarding Voldemort and Nagini were unfolding, another one had already been added to his parchment.
Destroy Hufflepuff's Cup.
The difficulty lay in this: Sean would need to get past Gringotts' defenses, and in the deepest part of all, break into the Lestrange vault, the one guarded by a dragon.
Now, he might finally be able to understand the goblins' full line of defense.
Breaking into Gringotts.
That last resort echoed in Sean's mind.
At the same time, he found himself wondering whether the goblins might break precedent for him and let him take away that Horcrux…
After walking for some time, the goblin gave a whistle, and a small cart rolled out of the darkness along the tracks.
They were invited inside. Vernar sat at the front, while Sean and Professor Quirrell took the wide back seat.
The cart lurched violently into motion, gathering speed, twisting and turning through maze-like tunnels, plunging downward so fast that the rattle of the wheels drowned out everything else.
They took sharp turns among stalactites and sped toward the heart of the earth.
They descended farther than Sean had ever gone in Gringotts before, whipped around a sharp bend, and saw a waterfall pouring down over the tracks ahead. As they passed beneath it, the water abruptly stopped.
"The Thief's Downfall,"
Vernar explained respectfully, glancing back at the curtain of water over the rails.
"It strips away all enchantments and magical disguises. If we know someone has entered Gringotts under a false identity, we activate this defense.
At the same time, the cart detaches from the tracks. It can go no farther in, and no farther out."
Sean silently committed that to memory.
The cart sped onward. Nearby, something was walking back and forth with a metallic clanging.
"Not much farther now, Mr. Hermes. We're almost there…"
The light ahead suddenly brightened.
Sean saw a massive dragon chained to the ground ahead of them, blocking access to the four or five deepest vaults.
Because it had been imprisoned underground so long, the dragon's scales had grown pale and loose, its eyes a clouded pink. Both of its hind legs were bound with heavy shackles, thick chains linking them to great iron stakes driven deep into the stone floor.
Its enormous spiked wings were folded at its sides, though if spread they would fill the entire cavern.
The dragon turned its hideous head toward them and let out a roar that shook the stone itself, then opened its jaws and blasted fire. The cart stopped instantly.
"It can barely see anymore,"
Vernar said with a smile,
"but that only makes it more savage. Still, we have our way of controlling it. It has developed a conditioned response to the clacker."
Vernar shook the clacker and led Sean and Professor Quirrell around another bend. The rattling echoed off the stone walls, amplified many times over, until Sean quietly cast a Muffliato.
The dragon let out another raw roar and shrank back.
Now that he was closer, Sean could see terrible scars crisscrossing its face. He guessed it had been trained to fear that sound because it had learned to associate it with burning blades cutting into it.
He moved closer still and laid a hand on its scales.
He heard its sorrowful breathing, its cries of hunger and pain.
And gradually, those roars began to make sense to him.
[You gained the affection of the magical creature Dragon (Aaron) at Expert standard. Affection +50]
[You gained the affection of the magical creature Dragon (Aaron) at Expert standard. Affection +50]
[Dragon Aaron: Slightly Affectionate (100/300)]
"It's hungry."
Sean said.
"It guards treasure better when kept hungry…"
Vernar's mouth twisted into a faint sneer.
"But if that is your command, most honored friend of the goblins…"
He finished respectfully, then took out a magical hand mirror.
"Feed big Aaron something."
"Please follow me further…"
Vernar led the way.
The dragon kept looking at Sean with a yearning gaze.
And though Sean appeared to be inspecting the entire underground chamber, his attention kept drifting to the vault doors nearby.
He wondered which one was the Lestrange vault.
Even if he found it, how would he enter?
It seemed only goblins could open them.
"Oh, this was just done, Mr. Hermes. Please accept this as the first gift of goblin friendship."
The goblin said this, then gestured for Sean to place his palm against one of the doors.
To Sean's surprise, the vault door vanished as soon as he touched it, revealing the opening beyond.
Well, that solved both problems. No need to search for the right vault anymore, and no need to worry about getting inside.
"What is this?"
Sean did not step in immediately. Instead, he turned a puzzled gaze toward the old goblin.
"It was our collective decision. Most honored friend of the goblins, we share goblin craftsmanship with you."
Vernar said with utmost respect.
Sean stared at him.
He knew better than most that fate never gave gifts for free. It always expected an exchange.
If the goblins were doing this, then they had to be aiming at an equal return.
"You may trust them."
After a long silence, Quirrell finally spoke.
His master did not understand, but he did.
The goblins were not merely trading for Mr. Green's friendship. They were placing an enormous wager.
And in that wager, they did not intend to collect their return from Mr. Green himself.
"Wizard treasure is not wizard treasure, and goblins are not treasure keepers…"
Vernar murmured softly, then turned his burning gaze back to Sean.
"Oh, one more thing—you should know."
While Sean was still thinking, Vernar picked up a sheet of parchment, then jerked his hand back as though he had touched a fire.
Sean watched a gold-edged sheet slip from his fingers.
But as it fell, it split apart into many sheets, and one second later, with a whole series of crackling pops, the floor was covered in identical parchments. There was no way to tell which one had been the original.
"We've added the Fiendfyre Curse and the Duplicating Charm,"
Vernar explained.
"If anyone else touches it, it will burn and duplicate. But the duplicates are worthless. If a thief keeps touching the treasure, eventually the gold will crush them to death."
"And if they don't use their hands?"
Sean asked.
"Oh, you are clever."
Vernar smiled.