Night had fallen over Gringotts, yet the grand reception hall was still bustling with activity.
The bright chandeliers bathed the marble floors in golden light, illuminating the massive space as if it were still daytime. Goblins scurried about, their sharp eyes scanning parchments, stamping documents, and processing transactions with mechanical precision.
Despite the late hour, a steady stream of wizards entered through the towering bronze doors.
Clatter. Clatter. Clatter.
The rhythmic clicking of goblin stamps echoed across the hall, accompanied by the murmuring of transactions.
"Horn, take this guest to vault 3025."
"Leif, handle this one."
The sharp voices of goblins calling out assignments blended with the shuffling of robes and the clinking of coins.
It was usually much quieter at this time of night.
But today, something was different.
A lot of wizards had come.
And they all had the same demand.
They wanted access to their vaults.
Russo, a middle-ranking goblin responsible for processing transactions, felt an uneasy weight settle in his chest. His hands moved automatically, stamping yet another document, but his mind was elsewhere.
It was those damn rumors.
Gringotts had been robbed.
Fake gold galleons had appeared.
Goblin treasurers had been siphoning wizarding wealth to fund the American goblins in their war against the Saints.
At first, Russo had dismissed these rumors as nonsense.
But then came the Kamar-Taj incident.
A wizard had caused a spectacle in the middle of Gringotts, drawing far more attention than anyone had wanted. In the aftermath, investigations had indeed uncovered a problem with the gold galleons—a problem that, however swiftly corrected, had already damaged Gringotts' reputation.
And now, the consequences were unfolding before his eyes.
Wizards—especially those from pure-blood families—had been appearing with increasing frequency, demanding full access to their fortunes.
Russo bit the inside of his cheek.
He didn't like this.
The goblin leadership had ordered stricter withdrawal procedures to slow the bleeding.
Now, all wizards attempting large withdrawals had to provide extensive documentation—family seals, bloodline certificates, and even treasury inheritance records, an absurd requirement given how ancient some of these vaults were.
It was a deliberate delay tactic.
And it was working—at first.
Many wizards, frustrated by the red tape, had given up and left.
But then, some had returned with every document in order.
And once a few succeeded, others followed.
The pressure was mounting.
If this continued, it would only be a matter of time before things turned ugly.
Russo exhaled and forced himself to focus. There was no point in worrying about things beyond his control. He simply had to follow orders and do his job.
Clatter.
Another document. Another stamp.
"Ms. Almeida, your vault number is 3312. What would you like to withdraw?"
Russo barely looked up as he addressed the next wizard in line.
"If you're purchasing items, Gringotts offers an owl delivery service for maximum convenience. We work with all major shops, allowing you to send a signed magical check to Gringotts via owl, and we will handle the payment on your behalf."
He barely paused before launching into his well-rehearsed pitch.
"And if you don't already own a Gringotts checkbook, I highly recommend acquiring one. It allows for real-time deductions and is a symbol of financial prestige among wizards."
Russo finally looked up, expecting the usual eager nod or polite interest.
Instead, he found himself staring into a pair of cold, dark green eyes.
The woman standing before him had long, curly black hair and an expression as still as a frozen lake. Her features were pale, almost sickly, and a quiet aura of something unsettling clung to her like a shadow.
Russo's instincts flared.
A dark wizard.
His posture instinctively stiffened, his tone immediately shifting to one of politeness.
Dark wizards were volatile customers. Their research into forbidden magic often left them mentally unstable, and many were prone to erratic bursts of violence.
But they were also some of Gringotts' most valuable clients.
They dealt in rare materials, forbidden artifacts, and high-value transactions, making them incredibly lucrative—if handled properly.
So Russo adjusted his approach.
"Ms. Almeida," he said smoothly, adopting a more deferential tone. "Would you be interested in acquiring rare materials or exclusive magical knowledge? Gringotts has extensive connections with pure-blood families and high-profile wizards. We can arrange direct access to items not available through normal means."
Information was one of Gringotts' most powerful commodities, and Russo never missed an opportunity to upsell.
He waited, watching for interest.
But instead of responding, the woman simply stared at him.
Then, in a slow, deliberate movement, she reached into her cloak and placed a small, blue magical suitcase on the counter.
"I need a vault," she said, her voice low and icy.
Russo blinked.
"Of course," he replied, recovering quickly. "Gringotts offers vaults of varying levels of security. Do you have any specific requirements?"
"The deeper, the better," she said. "The more secretive, the better."
Russo nodded. Standard request for a dark wizard.
"I understand completely," he said smoothly. "Per protocol, I must ask—what type of items will you be storing?"
Without waiting for an answer, he reached out to take the suitcase, intending to inspect it.
He never got the chance.
A sharp slap sent his hand recoiling.
The impact was not hard, but it was deliberate.
Russo's eyes widened as the woman—no, he realized with sudden clarity, not Almeida, but Bellatrix Lestrange—stared him down with a gaze as sharp as a dagger.
For a long moment, there was silence.
Then, Bellatrix spoke, her voice like ice cracking over a frozen lake.
"There's something I need to know," she said.
Russo swallowed, suddenly very aware of the volatile nature of the witch standing before him.
"I heard a rumor," Bellatrix continued, her voice dropping even lower.
"That the Strange family's vault—which was under Gringotts' protection—was robbed."
She tilted her head, her dark green eyes narrowing.
...
==============================================
Support me at [email protected]/goldengaruda and check out more chapter of this or more early access chapter of my other fanfic translation.
=============================================