I'm gonna make him an offer he can't refuse.
— The Godfather
In his previous life, Malfoy had fantasized about the day he could deliver this classic line. Perhaps when he was a titan of industry, having grasped his opponents' bottom lines at the negotiating table, he would propose a contract that forced them to yield. Or maybe when confessing his feelings to the girl of his dreams, he would have become her ideal man through his efforts, winning her heart. Of course, these were just fantasies he kept to himself.
But he never imagined that he would use this classic line today, and the target would be neither a business elite nor a dream girl, but a goblin who was repulsive to look at.
"I can make you an offer you can't refuse," he said.
"Impossible. A goblin's integrity cannot be swayed by a few measly Galleons."
This was a dim room, the intense humidity making each breath uncomfortable. A dilapidated wooden table stood in the center, its corners and legs covered in crack-like lines. Empty wine bottles and a plate of unrefined pastries were placed upon it.
If someone were to push the door open and enter, they would first see a fair-haired boy sitting to the left of the table, a plain leather bag slung across his body. Only upon closer inspection would they notice another 'person' sitting on the stool opposite the boy.
If this person had any knowledge, they would recognize this short, ugly 'person' with abnormally prominent ears and nose as a goblin.
The goblin continued, "Master Malfoy, all of us at Gringotts were delighted that you would deign to work here this year. However, your current actions are tantamount to a crime. Even if you are still underage, I believe your father would not want to see his proud son violating the laws of the wizarding world."
The goblin paused, adding, "With the Malfoy family's wealth and your father's affection for you, there is almost nothing you cannot obtain. Why covet the wealth of others? If you leave here immediately, I can pretend nothing happened."
"Oh, Mr. Griphook, a goblin's integrity? You speak such words so freely," Malfoy said, feigning surprise as he glanced at the goblin named Griphook. "But I saw in my father's ledgers that you're not so clean yourself."
"He clearly burned those things in front of me!" Griphook was like a wildcat whose tail had been suddenly stepped on. The already contorted muscles of his face twisted even further, almost obscuring his already large eyes, creating an unspeakable ugliness.
"It seems there really is something," Malfoy said, stroking his chin, a mocking smile playing on his lips as he looked at the somewhat exasperated Griphook.
"What exactly do you want?" Griphook's momentum weakened instantly, and the honorifics he had previously used were replaced with 'you'. This indicated that he no longer wished to feign politeness. If the previous Griphook had been superficially flattering but harbored no respect in his heart, the now flustered Griphook regarded the boy before him as a conversationalist worthy of attention.
"I've already said it. This is just a transaction. I will make you an offer you can't refuse," Malfoy said, gently tapping the oil-stained and dusty table with his knuckles.
"Oh?" Griphook couldn't help but become curious. As an employee of the bank, and a monopolistic one at that, the employees' benefits were self-evident. Moreover, he himself had many ways to obtain gray income, so Galleons, for him, were merely a case of the more the better, and not a key factor that would force him to take risks.
He could dabble in shady dealings, but crossing the line would no longer be tolerated.
If he were truly discovered, it would probably mean dismissal plus a one-way ticket to Azkaban.
But precisely because of this, Griphook was now somewhat anticipating the source of Malfoy's confidence. He wanted to know what the boy before him could offer that would make him yield.
"I think you can inspect the goods first," Malfoy said, taking off the leather bag slung across his body and pushing it onto the table in front of Griphook.
To be honest, Griphook believed that after working at Gringotts for so many years, he had seen countless staggering fortunes and precious magical materials. After all, even the Philosopher's Stone had once been deposited here. He originally thought that he would no longer be fazed by any object. But when he opened the leather bag, he couldn't help but gasp.
This was the Sword of Gryffindor!
A flame symbolizing greed suddenly flickered in his bloodshot eyes. If he could, Griphook would now want to knock the boy opposite him unconscious and reclaim this priceless treasure left behind by their goblin master craftsmen.
Goblin silver could spontaneously repel dust, so even after many years without being wiped, the sword was still as bright as new, emitting a dazzling silver light, just as it had when it was first forged centuries ago. The hilt was covered in strange patterns, and a huge ruby was inlaid at the top.
When it was fully drawn, the entire dim room seemed to open its eyes, instantly brightening up.
"Despicable..." Griphook quickly calmed down, but his expression was still agitated. However, he was interrupted before he could finish speaking, or rather, Malfoy spoke first.
"Despicable human wizards, this sword was clearly lent to you by our ancestors for your use, yet you shamelessly took it for yourselves. Centuries have passed, and it's time to return it to its rightful owner."
Malfoy looked at the goblin before him with a contemptuous expression, saying, "I've pretty much expressed what you wanted to say for you."
"But," Malfoy immediately snatched the sword from Griphook's hand and put it back in the bag. Everything happened in a flash, so quickly that Griphook didn't even have time to react. Then Malfoy added, "The wizarding society is still dominated by humans after all. I don't want to acknowledge the goblins' so-called absurd 'loan'."
"Can stealing be called stealing when it comes to scholars?"
"Can selling be called selling when it comes to goblins?"
Being deprived of the sword he had already grasped in his hand and being rendered speechless after being preempted made Griphook's face flush red. This was naturally not shame for his clan's peculiar customs, but a crimson tide of anger.
Often, anger stems from the resentment of one's powerlessness to change the status quo.
Unspeakable silence.
After a while, Griphook spoke, his hoarse voice, like a rusty saw cutting rotten wood, uttering each word with difficulty.
"Alright, what do you want to obtain? Have you set your sights on someone's wealth? I can help you cover it up, but you must also be prepared to be discovered. I will share the risk of going to Azkaban with you."
At this moment, Griphook calmed down surprisingly and began to ask about the conditions.
To get the sword back, he chose to compromise.
Because this was indeed an offer he couldn't refuse.
It wasn't that he didn't want to rob him, but before that, he had weighed his own strength.
Years of office life had reduced his already low combat level to a sufficiently low level. He had no confidence.
Looking at the now humble Griphook.
Malfoy smiled again.
"Who told you I set my sights on those vulgar material possessions?" Malfoy said slowly, staring into Griphook's eyeballs.
"My purpose..." Malfoy paused before saying, word by word, "Is revenge!"
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