Just as the deal was finalized and Ingus had goblins sent to count the bags of gems and the currency reserves, Tver suddenly seemed to remember something and mentioned it offhandedly.
"Oh, I also need to make a trip to Bellatrix Lestrange's vault."
Ingus's raised hand paused midair. He turned back to Tver with a faintly amused look.
"Impossible!" Griphook blurted out at once. "Only Lestrange herself may enter her vault. That rule is the foundation Gringotts survives on!"
"Even after we've just concluded a deal that could last for many years?" Tver asked lightly.
Griphook glanced down at the bulging bag of gems in his hands and hesitated.
He wanted to say that he wanted the gems, but not at the cost of breaking Gringotts' rules.
But when he thought of Tver's earlier threat, and…
The offer was simply too much.
"So Mr. Fawley's true objective today is actually Mrs. Lestrange, isn't it?" Ingus said with a soft chuckle as he sat back down, slipping seamlessly back into the rhythm of negotiation.
"To be precise, it's something in her vault," Tver admitted openly.
When dealing with an old fox like this, being evasive only bred suspicion. It was better to put the chips on the table.
"Are you certain that item is still in the vault?" Ingus asked.
"Absolutely."
"In that case, let Griphook escort you there," Ingus said, flicking a glance at him.
His tone was so casual it was as though they were discussing the weather, not the private opening of a client's vault.
"But what if Mrs. Lestrange realizes…" Griphook asked uneasily.
Gringotts had seized vaults before, but only after confirming the owner was dead and had no heirs.
"She won't have the chance to find out. Even if she's released someday, Mr. Fawley surely won't mind helping us deal with that little inconvenience," Ingus said, giving Tver a sly smile.
The meaning behind that smile was clear. If Lestrange came knocking, these goblins would not conceal his identity.
"Of course. We're business partners, after all," Tver replied easily as he stood up, returning an equally warm smile.
Ingus's smile vanished at once. He fell silent for a moment, then waved his hand with a sigh.
"Go on, Griphook. Take these 'partners' there."
Greed, Ingus thought. If goblins were ever to fall, it would be because of that inborn greed.
But he had no intention of refusing.
After all, what goblin could resist gleaming gold and precious gems?
Griphook had no choice now. Without a word, he picked up a small bag, led them out of the office, and returned to the main hall.
Unlike when Tver first arrived, the already sparse number of customers was now down to just the three of them.
"It's past the goblins' quitting time," Griphook said.
"That reminds me, what do you usually do after work?" Tver asked curiously.
He was normally a homebody, and on the rare occasions he went to places like pubs, he hardly ever encountered goblins.
Griphook opened an ancient-looking door for them, revealing a narrow stone corridor lit brightly by torches along both sides.
"What do you think? Goblins do the same things wizards do after work. Stop looking at us like we're something strange!"
The corridor sloped steeply downward, opening onto a narrow railway track below.
With that, Griphook let out a sharp whistle. A small cart came racing down the track, screeching to a precise stop right in front of them.
"I honestly don't know what ordinary wizards do at night," Tver said, peering around like a curious child as he kept asking questions. "I usually read. Do you do that too?"
He climbed into the cart with the others. It wasn't spacious, but it wasn't cramped either.
Griphook gave him a wordless look.
"Goblins' eyes are for spotting gems, not reading books!"
He yanked the lever down, and the cart shot forward along the rails.
After a stretch, the tracks began branching in every direction, forming a labyrinthine network of lines beneath the ground.
Yet the cart seemed to know the route. Without Griphook steering it, it still carried them onward as if guided by instinct.
"In wealthy households, there's usually a forge," Griphook said, raising his voice over the rush of air. "We make interesting goblin ironwork. Of course, materials are harder to come by now, so most people make smaller pieces, badges and the like."
"And in our spare time," he continued, "goblins either go out to drink and talk, or we explore ancient magical secrets we've uncovered during the day."
"That's also one of the sources of Gringotts' wealth."
Cold air screamed past, stinging Tver's eyes.
With a casual flick of his wand, he cast an Iron Armour Charm over the entire cart, sealing out the wind.
"Is it profitable?" Tver asked.
Griphook stared, momentarily stunned by the precision of the spell. It took him a moment to recover.
"It used to be. But now that more and more ruins have been dug up, the yields are getting smaller."
"If I had an order for magical ironwork I wanted to place with the goblins, and we supplied the materials, would you take it?" Tver asked with interest.
Now that he had money, he no longer cared about the exorbitant prices of goblin-made goods.
Griphook had never encountered a customer so bold and unconcerned, and for a moment he didn't know what to say.
"Er… I don't know what they'd decide. I don't think they would…?"
Just then, as they descended deeper and deeper underground, a dragon appeared ahead.
They had reached the deepest vaults of Gringotts.
The dragon's scales had aged to a pale, loosened white. Its cloudy pink eyes looked dull with exhaustion. Both hind legs were shackled in heavy fetters, thick chains running from them to enormous spikes driven deep into the stone floor.
The dragon seemed to notice them. It snapped its scarred head around and let out a roar so powerful the cart shuddered, followed by a blast of searing flame.
But whether because they were still too far away, or because Tver's Iron Armour Charm was too strong, not a trace of heat reached them.
"Don't worry," Griphook said quickly. "I'll keep it under control."
He pulled a handful of small metal instruments from the pouch at his waist, shaking them so they rang with a bright, crisp clatter.
Tver and the others didn't take them. Instead, they studied the dragon with obvious interest, not a hint of fear on their faces.
After all, the three of them could take down a healthy dragon without even breaking a sweat, let alone one as battered as this.
Griphook awkwardly put the clinking pieces away.
By then, the cart was slowing to a stop in front of a vault door carved with intricate patterns. Strangely enough, it was wooden.
Griphook stepped down first and pressed his hand to the center of the door.
"There are so many spells on this thing I can't even tell them apart," he said smugly. "All I know is, if anyone other than a Gringotts goblin tried to do this, the door would suck them in, and they'd be trapped inside."
This time, Tver didn't argue. He watched the door vanish and nodded in agreement.
There really was an overwhelming amount of magic layered onto it. Without understanding it, even he wouldn't benefit from pressing a hand on it recklessly.
Recognizing Griphook's identity, the door disappeared completely, revealing a deep, dark opening.
"Lumos."
A bright orb flared to life near the ceiling, laying bare every corner of the vault.
Tver saw piles packed tight with gold coins, golden goblets, silver armor, the pelts of strange creatures, and crystal-clear potions. There was even a skull still wearing a crown.
Marvolio, clearly unable to wait, stepped in first.
"Just simple Flagrante and Doubling spells," he said, sniffing lightly as if the magic had a scent. "But what does this Hufflepuff's Cup you mentioned look like?"
"Easy," Tver said with a soft laugh, pointing toward a golden cup tucked away in the corner. "It's the only one here that hasn't been enchanted."