The grand entrance hall of Gringotts Bank had always struck Harry as profoundly solemn and magnificent like a temple to wealth and security with rows of goblins behind tables that ran the length of the chamber, managing wizards' accumulated fortunes with elegance.
That was how Harry remembered Gringotts from his previous visits: dignified, orderly, endless.
Today, it looked absolutely nothing like that.
The entrance hall—that solemn, imposing space whose very architectural presence had always seemed to warn visitors against the sin of greed was now completely transformed.
It had been converted into a chaotic maze of queues that meandered back and forth across the floor, lines of anxious wizards were packed shoulder to shoulder, stretching from the massive bronze doors all the way to the goblin teller stations.
Every single wizard's face wore essentially the same expression: restless, profoundly uneasy, suppressing panic beneath a veneer of refined composure.
Harry noticed that most of the people in these queues were dressed exceptionally well—far better than one would expect for ordinary banking business.
Their robes were made of fine fabrics, expertly tailored, displaying the quality that came only with serious money. Their jewels were conspicuous: heavy gold chains, rings set with precious stones, brooches and pins that glittered in the magical light streaming from the chandeliers above.
He voiced his confusion to Remus in a quiet murmur, leaning close to be heard over the noise. "Why are they all so—"
Remus said nothing immediately in response. The corner of his mouth shifted subtly, pulling into a faint, knowing smile that carried obvious contempt beneath its surface.
"Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen—"
A goblin with a deep green-tinted face and an expression of panic came rushing toward them through the crowd when he noticed that Harry's group had entered but showed no intention of joining any of the queues.
He was weaving between other customers with frantic haste, nearly tripping over his own feet in his urgency. He arranged his face into what was clearly meant to be a welcoming smile but came across as more of an awkward grimace.
"As you can all see, if you're here to make a withdrawal from your vaults—"
He gestured helplessly at the overwhelming queues.
"Oh, actually—that's not why we're here—"
Mrs. Weasley pressed her hand tightly over her pocket where the pouch of Ron's Triwizard winnings rested and became suddenly very conscious of its weight.
The curious, frankly judgmental looks from those queuing nearby made her shift uncomfortably.
"I'm here to deposit some galleons into our vault, actually."
'Deposit galleons—now, of all times?'
The surrounding customers stared at her as though she'd announced she was planning to set fire to the money instead. Several mouths actually fell open in shock. Even the goblin who had rushed over to greet them looked momentarily stunned into silence.
"Oh?" Remus interjected smoothly, his tone perfectly composed. "Have the goblins suspended deposit services as well?"
"You—you are Mr. Remus Lupin, sir?"
The goblin's eyes widened with sudden recognition, his entire demeanor was shifting instantaneously. He immediately became more respectful, polite.
"Of course we haven't suspended deposit services, sir! Of course not! Please, Madam, if you would follow me—we'll get you sorted immediately—"
He began gesturing them toward a side corridor looking eager to please.
"I've never in my entire life seen a goblin make that face at anyone in our family," Ron muttered to Harry, watching with amazement as the goblin practically fawned over them.
Harry didn't respond to Ron's observation. His attention had been caught and held by something else. His green eyes narrowed with focus on the far end of the vast hall where a prominent cluster of goblin managers were currently receiving what appeared to be a very important group of visitors.
Wealthy visitors, based on their clothing and air. Angry visitors, based on their body language.
"Look—" Harry nudged Remus in the ribs with his elbow, directing his gaze toward the scene unfolding in the distance. "Over there. Do you see them?"
"Lucius Malfoy," Remus identified immediately, his entire body was stiffening with tension. The wariness in his eyes sharpened to alarm. "And that's Greengrass beside him—head of that family. Nott Senior next to him. Those two bringing up the rear—yes, that's definitely Crabbe Senior and Goyle Senior."
"Draco Malfoy and his mother are there too!" Ron added, his brow furrowing with confusion and concern. "Remember, Harry? We saw them at the Quidditch World Cup. What are they all doing here together?"
"Isn't it obvious, Ron?" Hermione's expression was troubled. "They're clearing out their vaults. They don't trust the goblins anymore—or more accurately, they're punishing the goblins for cooperating with the Ministry."
"No—" Harry's face darkened. The vivid images he'd witnessed in his vision that morning flickered rapidly through his mind. "I don't think it's just about withdrawing money. They're here to make trouble for Professor Watson. Come on, Remus—we need to get closer and hear what they're saying."
"Harry, don't do anything rash!"
Remus's expression changed at once but before he could grab the boy and hold him back, Harry had already slipped smoothly out of their position in the queue. He stepped past the still-fussing goblin escort with ease and was striding with determination toward the front of the hall, toward that cluster of wealthy pure-blood families.
"Don't worry too much, Remus." George clapped Remus casually on the shoulder. "Malfoy won't try anything here—not with this many witnesses watching his every move."
He lengthened his stride and followed after Ron and Hermione, who were already chasing after Harry.
"—I am deeply disappointed. Deeply disappointed in Gringotts and the goblin nation."
Harry caught the unmistakable sound of Lucius Malfoy's arrogant voice cutting through the noise before he'd even closed half the distance across the floor.
"Regardless of anything else that might be said or argued, I want every last Galleon, every single Sickle and Knut of the Malfoy family fortune removed from this bank before the end of today."
"But Mr. Malfoy, sir—with all due respect, it would be quite difficult, practically speaking, to safely transport such an enormous quantity of galleons and valuables in a single day—"
Bogrod, the senior goblin manager Harry vaguely recognized from previous visits, was dabbing continuously at his sweating forehead with an expensive silk handkerchief.
His hands trembled slightly as he bowed in a respectful manner.
"That is not your concern," Lucius interrupted coldly. He struck the base of his cane sharply against the floor with a crack that echoed through the hall.
His fury was barely checked beneath the sophisticated veneer. "The process of transport are my problem, not yours. I brought my own carriages. You need only pack everything held in the Malfoy vault into secure crates and bring it all up from below. Surely even goblins can manage that simple task?"
"Of course, of course, absolutely, Mr. Malfoy—"
The goblin mopped his brow repeatedly and kept that painful smile plastered across his face. "That is entirely your wealth and entirely within your right to withdraw it. The bank has no claim on your property. It's only—only—"
His voice faltered.
"Only what?"
Narcissa Malfoy spoke without looking at the goblin. She was carefully smoothing young Draco's pale blond hair with her fingers, fussing over him with attention. She didn't even glance at the sweating goblin—just asked, in a voice of effortless, aristocratic aloofness.
"You will both appreciate, I'm sure, that the Malfoy family vault holds an absolutely extraordinary sum—one of the largest private fortunes in all of Britain," Bogrod wheezed. "The inventory procedures alone for a vault of that size and complexity... the goblins will require a considerable amount of time to complete a full and accurate accounting. If perhaps—if you might possibly consider—"
He swallowed hard. "—allowing us just a little more time?"
"I will say this once more, and I will not repeat myself a third time," Lucius cut in, his tone was turning even colder.
A grey gleam was moving through his pale eyes like storm clouds. "I want every treasure, every artifact, every coin the Malfoy family holds in this place removed completely by end of business today. Whatever operational difficulties the goblins face in accomplishing this are a consequence of the goblins' own foolish decisions. That is not my problem."
The goblins standing in a small, anxious cluster before Lucius Malfoy bobbed their heads up and down like puppets, laughing their hollow, forced laughs. Sweat was streaming down their faces, darkening the collars of their uniforms.
The elegantly mustachioed wizard standing beside Malfoy—his face stone-like and impeccably composed, showing no emotion spoke up in an equally cold, uncompromising tone.
"The Greengrass family vault as well. Every coin, every heirloom, cleared out today. I will not leave another single Knut in Gringotts' keeping."
One by one, each of the other wealthy wizards Malfoy had brought with him to the bank declared the same intention in slightly different words. The goblin managers receiving them looked as though they might actually faint on the spot.
"Between them, these families collectively hold nearly half of all the wealth currently stored in Gringotts' lower vaults," Remus murmured, having appeared at Harry's shoulder without him even noticing his approach.
His hand rested on Harry's shoulder in a gesture that was half-protective, half-restraining. His face was grave with understanding.
"If they successfully lead a coordinated withdrawal on this scale, Gringotts is finished. People throughout Britain will stop trusting the goblins with their money. No one will leave galleons with them ever again. The bank will collapse."
"Didn't the goblins consider that possibility when they agreed to follow the Ministry's orders?" Ginny asked, genuine worry was creeping into her voice. Her young face showed confusion at the apparent short-sightedness. "Surely they must have known this might happen? Will they buckle under the pressure now and abandon Professor Watson's plan?"
"Not necessarily," Percy said with some confidence as someone who understood politics. "As long as the Ministry continues to officially recognize Gringotts as the authorized banking institution for magical Britain—as long as government salaries and official transactions continue to flow through Gringotts, the bank won't actually fall."
He adjusted his glasses.
"And not everyone will clear out their vaults in protest. Our family certainly won't, for one thing. The Learning Machine Workshop won't either—I happen to know that the substantial profits from all its various branches across the European Wizarding World are still held in local Gringotts accounts."
'It was only ever meant to be a way of using the goblins' unique position to pressure the escaped Death Eaters into surrendering themselves to avoid complete financial ruin. And yet it had caused this much panic.'
Hermione turned the troubling question over carefully in her mind: 'Had Professor Watson simply not foreseen this consequence? Or had he foreseen it and simply not cared?'
The thought broke off abruptly. She felt eyes on her face.
She turned her head and found herself being stared at by a middle-aged witch standing in the nearest queue. The woman was looking at Hermione with an uncertain, puzzled expression—trying to place her, clearly recognizing her face from somewhere but unable to immediately identify from where.
Then the woman's gaze shifted slightly and landed on Harry's distinctive lightning-bolt scar, just visible beneath his black hair.
The uncertainty vanished instantly from her face.
"Oh my goodness—oh, I can't believe it—"
The witch's round face lit up like a child's on Christmas morning.
The brown-haired woman with short, tightly curled hair—slightly plump, dressed in yellow robes that stood out among all the somber colors around her was vibrating with excitement.
She surged forward out of her place in line and seized both Hermione's and Harry's sleeves with her hands, gripping the cloth tightly as though afraid they might escape.
"You're—you're Hermione Granger! You represented Hogwarts in the Triwizard Tournament! I watched every task! And oh, yes—you must be Harry Potter! The Harry Potter!"
Her voice was rising with each word, drawing attention from others nearby.
"Could I possibly trouble you both for your autographs? Please?"
She was already digging frantically in her bag for parchment and a quill, her movements were clumsy with excitement.
"My daughter Vinnie is such a tremendous fan of yours—both of you! She's always wanted your signatures but I never had the proper connections to get them for her. She'll be absolutely thrilled! This will make her entire year!"
The witch's pale green eyes shone with earnest longing as she looked between Harry and Hermione, pleading silently.
"Harry Potter? Did she say Harry Potter?"
The name rippled through the nearby crowd like a stone dropped in still water creating expanding circles of recognition and interest.
Harry was already regretting leaving his Invisibility Cloak away back at Grimmauld Place—it would have made the eavesdropping on Malfoy so much easier.
He'd been about to extract himself as politely as possible from the autograph-seeking witch, when he heard it: a voice, slightly hoarse and rasping, unmistakably a woman's voice, saying his name.
"Harry Potter."
Harry went completely still. He looked up sharply toward Lucius Malfoy's group.
They had all noticed him now. The conversation with the desperate goblin managers had stopped mid-sentence. Every member of that pure-blood group had turned observing Harry's group with cold, measuring, hostile eyes.
All except Draco.
When Draco's grey eyes met Harry's green ones across the floor, there was no sneer or mockery on his pale face.
His face had gone completely white.
He flinched back half a step instinctively, unconsciously, as if startled by something frightening. And his left arm moved immediately behind his back, as though he didn't want Harry to see that arm or notice anything about it.
'What is Draco hiding?'
The question flared brightly in Harry's mind and then died just as quickly as something else gained his attention. He set the mystery aside, his brow was furrowing with new concern as he turned his attention toward the woman who had just spoken his name.
Hiss—
The very moment his eyes met hers—wild, frantic eyes burning with a feverish intensity—a sudden, burning pain split across Harry's forehead scar and his eye twitched.
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