Inside the Defense Against the Dark Arts office,
Professor Quirrell's face was pale as he shakily downed an entire jar of unicorn blood. He exhaled a thick, shaky breath, trembling uncontrollably. After a moment, a hint of color returned to his face.
"Knock, knock, knock."
The door rattled. Quirrell froze. Isn't it time for the Slytherin vs. Hufflepuff match? Who could possibly be here now?
"Open the door," a sharp voice hissed from the back of his mind. "That's my little water snake."
Quirrell scrambled to the door. Audrey stood there, her expression iron-cold. Without preamble, she stepped inside and said flatly, "I want to speak to my father."
"Yes, young mistress."
Quirrell hurriedly removed the scarf wrapped around his head. A foul stench hit him as the bizarre face of Voldemort appeared.
"My little water snake… what's wrong?"
"Someone angered me."
"Who? Who dares provoke my little water snake?"
Quirrell shivered. The last time the Dark Lord punished the Grey family, his body was nearly drained to nothing. Surely, he wouldn't make him do something like that again…
"Gringotts."
Voldemort was momentarily at a loss. Even at his peak, his influence over Gringotts was limited—they held all his gold in their vaults, and even he had to be careful.
"What did they do to make my daughter so furious?"
"It doesn't matter what they did to me," Audrey said calmly. "What matters is that Gringotts is squandering pure-blood wealth. If this isn't stopped, when you return, you might face a workforce of beggars."
Voldemort frowned. "Explain this clearly."
Audrey raised a finger. "A deal: I tell you what happened, and you grant me an exemption from Defense Against the Dark Arts classes."
Even a month of exemption would be a win—two and a half free afternoons per week.
"Fine, I agree," Voldemort said eagerly. He only gathered pure-blood families for their wealth. Without the Galleons, their usefulness would be questionable, even compared to half-bloods like himself, Snape, or Dumbledore.
"Tell me everything," he demanded.
"Gringotts borrowed from pure-blood families and nearly drained them. They took that money and invested it in Ukraine."
Voldemort frowned. "Invested? Goblins are smart. Investments rarely go wrong. How is this squandering?"
"Because the Ukrainian economy collapsed. Their currency lost 70% of its value in a few months. That means the families' wealth dropped to just 30%! If they don't act, pure-blood families could lose everything."
"Impossible! How could goblins be so reckless?"
Audrey rolled her eyes. "Nothing's impossible. After the Soviet Union fell, Ukraine inherited a huge portion of the old state's assets. With US aid, everything looked promising. Nobody expected it to collapse so quickly."
She looked at the face on the back of Quirrell's head and continued, "Even clever goblins couldn't foresee such idiocy from a government."
Voldemort's rage boiled. From his perspective, the pure-blood families' money was his. Audrey, in this sense, was his true daughter.
"Fools! Are all Muggles idiots?" he bellowed.
Audrey knew Voldemort had no understanding of economics. Trying to reason about Gringotts and Ukraine was pointless. Better to give him the solution directly:
"Only by having these pure-blood families approach Gringotts to terminate their agreements and repay early can the losses be stopped. At this point, they shouldn't worry about interest—whatever they recover is what counts, or they'll lose everything."
With that, Audrey waved her hand in front of her nose and turned sharply, as if one more second in the room would make it unbearable.
Voldemort's pride stung. He growled, "Quirrell, you need a thorough wash."
Quirrell complied helplessly. But… why am I always so stinky? Doesn't my master notice?
"Master, do you really intend to contact these pure-blood families? I don't know why Gringotts angered the young mistress, but it seems she wants to use you to teach them a lesson."
"Hmph, foolish! What her purpose is now doesn't matter. Gringotts losing money is certain. If we do nothing, when I regain my strength, will I really face Dumbledore with a group of beggars?"
…
Later, Audrey lay on her bed, sipping wine, eyes half-closed in contentment.
A figure appeared on the two-way mirror: Edmund.
"Audrey, why contact me at this time?"
"I need you to do two things."
"Go ahead."
"First, have Vida and the others contact their European connections to pressure Gringotts into early repayment, citing concerns about default.
Second, find a mute financier in the Muggle world. I want to use the ruins of Gringotts to build our own wizarding bank."
Edmund was surprised. "This diverges from your original plan, doesn't it?"
Audrey snorted. "Gringotts dared threaten me."
Clearly, she was truly angry—enough to get her lazy boss moving.
Twice in a row, goblins had provoked her. If Gringotts collapsed, without external stimuli, would Audrey return to being a couch potato?
She added, "Contact Rita Skeeter. I want her to write an article about Gringotts' suspected failed investments."
"Understood."
"Not just The Daily Prophet, all major newspapers. Even tabloids, like The Quibbler. They'll be eager for inside information."
"The big papers won't print unverified news."
"Money solves everything. Enough money, and if they still refuse, buy the newspaper!"
…
April 11, 1992.
The darkest day for Gringotts.
Wizards swarmed the bank, demanding repayment. Headlines screamed about failed investments—losses over 70%. Even if untrue, the sheer force of public opinion convinced the wizarding world: Gringotts had collapsed.
At first, the goblins clung to the sanctity of contracts, refusing early repayment. They believed that by May, once Audrey returned principal plus interest, they could survive.
But then came Rita Skeeter's front-page exposé: "Gringotts Shamelessly Violates Agreements, Demanding Borrowers Pay Early with Full Interest."
The goblins panicked.
…
Their main doors were torn down by angry wizards. The inscription above the entrance, once a mark of pride, now looked bitterly ironic:
Enter, stranger, but take heed. Of what awaits the sin of greed. For those who take, but do not earn, Must pay most dearly in their turn. So if you seek beneath our floors. A treasure that was never yours, Thief, you have been warned, beware. Of finding more than treasure there