The Gringotts Elders' Chamber was still lavish and imposing,
but it was no longer what it once had been.
The conference table and chairs had all been raised by at least thirty centimeters, adjusted for attendees far taller than goblins.
Today, the heads of Britain's great wizarding families were gathered in one place.
Of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, only a few—such as the British branch of the Lestranges, the Blacks, and the Gaunts—were absent. The rest were all present.
Barty Crouch Sr. was there as well. As head of the Crouch family, and with the Crouches being one of the Twenty-Eight, his attendance was only natural.
Beyond them, many influential families outside the Sacred Twenty-Eight had come too. They might not cling as fiercely to blood purity, but in terms of wealth and standing, they were no weaker—such as the Dumbledore family.
Albus Dumbledore himself was not present, yet the phoenix perched atop the chandelier—Fawkes—stood as his silent representative.
At the appointed time, the inner doors of the chamber opened.
A young man strolled in calmly, followed by two elderly wizards with graying hair.
He was strikingly handsome, his sun-golden hair instantly brightening the room.
"Good afternoon. This is our first meeting," he said evenly.
"My name is Edmund Grindelwald, and I am authorized to preside over this conference on behalf of my employer."
Ordinarily, the absence of the true host from such an important gathering would have been considered a grave insult.
Yet no one spoke up.
These old foxes were all seasoned veterans. The moment they heard the surname Grindelwald, countless assumptions bloomed in their minds, and whatever offense they might have felt vanished without a trace.
"Yes—just as you suspect," Edmund continued, his composure utterly unbefitting his age.
"I am the grandnephew of Gellert Grindelwald."
The chamber erupted.
"But please rest assured," Edmund added calmly. "My great-uncle is currently enjoying his retirement in Nurmengard. He has no intention of starting another revolution. Today's gathering concerns only one matter—the establishment of a new wizarding bank."
The room fell silent.
Ten full seconds passed.
They weighed his words. They judged his intent. They wondered whether he was lying.
Old Avery spoke first. "Mr. Grindelwald, I don't care what your true motives are. I only want to know one thing—will your employer really compensate us for what Gringotts took?"
Edmund nodded. "Yes. That is precisely our intention."
This time, the uproar was laced with excitement—barely restrained joy.
"Please, everyone," Edmund said. "Before we formally begin, allow me to demonstrate my employer's financial strength."
He snapped his fingers.
Behind him, above the central seat, a luminous screen appeared.
A world map filled the display.
"My employer controls one hundred and twenty thousand square kilometers of land in Eastern Europe alone. His holdings across the world are too numerous to count."
Red points bloomed across the map, densest in that region—nearly two-fifths of it glowing crimson.
"The amount of gold he possesses far exceeds your imagination."
The image shifted.
A colossal vault appeared.
On the left, towering metal racks—each over two meters tall and three meters long—were stacked with gold bars in perfect order.
On the right, mountains of Galleons filled hundreds of square meters, piled so high they could reach an adult's waist.
The chamber filled with sharp breaths and the sound of swallowed saliva.
"I am not showing you this to boast," Edmund said as he took a seat.
"This is about trust. Yes—Gringotts' lost wealth is now in our hands. And under our management, that wealth has grown more than tenfold in a short time."
The murmuring resumed.
Not a single person accused Edmund's employer of causing Gringotts' collapse.
After all, it was Gringotts that had lost their money—not the power now offering restitution.
And anyone foolish enough to stir hostility at a moment like this didn't deserve to survive in politics.
Satisfied, Edmund continued.
"To establish a new bank—a new financial order for the wizarding world—we require your support."
"We will issue a new currency, backed one-to-one by our reserves of Galleons. The first issuance will total approximately one hundred and twenty billion New Mage Coins worldwide."
"As a token of gratitude for your cooperation, each family present today will receive one hundred million New Mage Coins."
The room went utterly still.
One hundred million coins—equal in value to one hundred million Galleons.
For many families, that was more than their entire accumulated fortune.
Such a colossal windfall falling from the sky was enough to leave anyone dizzy.
As for concerns about inflation—none of them even considered it. Wizards were hardly economists. And in truth, Hydrus Lestrange had no intention of playing such games anyway.
All they could see was gold.
All they could think about was how to raise their families back to glory.
"Mr. Grindelwald, your employer is incredibly generous!"
"Our family will be your eternal ally!"
Barty Crouch Sr., one of the few who knew that Hydrus Lestrange stood behind Edmund, asked calmly:
"May I ask—what must we give in return for this gift?"
The room sobered instantly.
Of course. There was no free lunch.
All eyes turned to Edmund.
"Our generosity comes with one condition," Edmund replied with a smile.
He signaled the goblins, who distributed documents detailing the bank's founding.
"The condition is simple—the bank must first be allowed to exist."
As the family heads read, their eyes lit up. The investment models and development plans were unlike anything they had seen before.
Once most had finished, Edmund spoke again.
"Does anyone know who is currently preventing this bank from being established?"
"The Ministry of Magic?"
"No," Edmund said firmly. "Most Ministry officials are eagerly awaiting the new bank."
He looked toward Barty Crouch Sr.
"Mr. Crouch knows this better than anyone—he has personally been advancing our efforts within the Ministry."
Crouch nodded stiffly.
"Then," Edmund continued, "Mr. Crouch—please tell everyone. Who is truly obstructing us?"
Crouch froze.
He had been shoved onto the fire.
Stammering, trapped between advance and retreat, he didn't know what to do.
This meant opposing Cornelius Fudge directly.
A soft voice drifted into his ear, seductive and calm.
"Mr. Crouch… think carefully. This is an opportunity."
He turned sharply.
Pucey stood against the wall, giving him a slight nod.
An opportunity?
In the next instant, realization struck.
Was he afraid of Fudge?
No. Barty Crouch feared the power of the Minister's office—the power that could crush him utterly.
And yet… that was the very power he had always sought.
Once, he had been so close.
The past burned. The chance stood before him.
They had placed the knife in his hand.
Why hesitate?
With that financial backing, the Minister's seat was no longer a dream.
Summoning all his strength, Crouch shouted:
"The one obstructing the bank is Minister Cornelius Fudge!"
"It is Fudge who has been blocking the establishment of a new wizarding bank!"
The chamber exploded.
Whispers overlapped, voices collided.
Crouch collapsed into his chair, numb.
If Fudge did not fall, then Barty Crouch never would rise again.
Edmund stood.
"Strong voice," he said.
"Everyone—listen carefully."
"This is a Wizarding Bank Founding Conference. We are here to build something new."
"Our sincerity is represented by that one hundred million Galleons per family."
"Those willing to help establish the new bank—stay."
"Those unwilling are free to leave."
Silence.
No one moved.
"Cornelius Fudge has trampled the interests of the wizarding world," Lucius Malfoy spoke first. "He is unworthy of the Minister's seat."
He had weighed the risk carefully.
If he won, the Malfoys would soar on Hydrus' rising tide.
If he lost, as her relative, would she truly abandon him?
High reward. No real risk.
"Exactly!" the Carrow patriarch echoed. "Fudge has long been engaged in corrupt dealings with Gringotts. He's a parasite!"
Edmund nodded. "We can confirm this. We possess both witnesses and evidence."
The goblins swiftly presented Fudge's crimes.
"Outrageous!"
"To sell wizarding interests to goblins!"
"He must be impeached!"
"Agreed!"
"Agreed!"
The last time unanimous approval had echoed in this chamber was when goblin elders had discussed how to fleece Hydrus Lestrange even further.
Pucey was the only one present at both meetings.
He shook his head silently.
Goblins or wizards—it made no difference.
Before利益, all were fragile.
After all—
What dog doesn't crave a meaty bone?