Gringotts, War Preparation Office
The War Preparation Office within Gringotts was vast and imposing, its spacious interior filled with a multitude of weapons displayed in meticulously organized cabinets. The collection was diverse: gleaming melee blades, intricately crafted magical firearms, enchanted bullets shimmering with latent energy, and even volatile alchemy bombs, each radiating a menacing aura.
Some weapons exuded a feral savagery, as if their very presence conveyed the destructive power they wielded. Others, deceptively small and unassuming, concealed an incredible destructive force capable of leveling entire spaces with just a touch of activation. The room hummed with an undercurrent of latent power, a silent testament to the goblins' readiness for war.
At the center of this arsenal stood Elder Harmon, clad in a dark purple robe that signified his status among goblins. His sharp features were softened by an expression of reverence as he moved through the room, his gnarled fingers occasionally brushing against the cold steel of a weapon. His eyes gleamed with an obsession that bordered on fervor.
This is the hope for the rise of goblins, he thought. The weapons symbolized more than simple tools of destruction; they embodied a vision—one where goblins reclaimed their place of power.
To fight their way to the surface. To seize lands rich in magical resources. To reclaim their dominance and the wealth that rightfully belonged to them, rather than merely serving as stewards of wizarding riches.
Despite the outward politeness of wizards who frequented Gringotts, Harmon could always sense the disdain lurking beneath their composed façades. He felt it acutely, even as one of the leading elders of the goblin community. It was a quiet indignity he had endured for far too long.
As his thoughts wandered, he sighed inwardly and continued his inspection. The British goblins had received word of the events unfolding in America, thanks to the Wizarding Bank Association's network of informants.
The collapse of the goblin infrastructure across the Atlantic was undeniable. The reports spoke of chaos—entrenched corruption in the American Magical Congress had left their goblin counterparts vulnerable. Even the vice-chair of the Congress had fallen under their sway, an enviable level of infiltration.
Here in Britain, the goblins faced far more resistance. Centuries-old traditions clung stubbornly to the magical community, bolstered by the Ministry of Magic's arrogance. And then there was Dumbledore.
The mere thought of the venerable wizard sent a shiver down Harmon's spine. Dumbledore's sharp gaze and keen intellect were formidable. Two generations of Dark Lords had fallen to him. If the elder wizard ever turned his attention toward Gringotts and found discrepancies, the consequences could be catastrophic.
"Elder Harmon," a voice interrupted his musings, pulling him back to the present.
The speaker was a goblin guard dressed in ceremonial red, his crimson hat marking him as the leader of the group accompanying Harmon. The guard took a step forward and addressed the elder in a measured tone.
"The goblin envoy from the Wizarding Bank Association has arrived."
Harmon nodded, his expression unreadable. Without another word, he turned and began making his way out of the weapons room, his personal guard, Kale, following closely behind.
Kale was more than just a bodyguard—he was a confidant, handpicked by Harmon for his unwavering loyalty and skill. Trained in goblin-specific magic and even mastering the three Unforgivable Curses to a degree, Kale's sole purpose was to protect Harmon at all costs.
The rhythmic sound of their footsteps echoed in the corridor as they ascended toward the reception hall. Harmon cast one last glance back at the weapons room, a flicker of nostalgia in his eyes before he continued onward.
Gringotts, Reception Room
In the elegantly appointed reception room, the goblin envoy, Katu, sat stiffly in a high-backed chair. His posture was calm, but his furrowed brows and the occasional twitch of his fingers betrayed his unease.
Why does something feel off? Katu wondered, his thoughts racing. He replayed every step of his journey from the United States to Britain, searching for any anomalies.
The envoy closed his eyes briefly, attempting to calm himself. He attributed his unease to the uncertainty surrounding the British goblins' response to his request for aid.
Unbeknownst to Katu, his altered memories were the handiwork of none other than Albus Dumbledore. The elder wizard's expertise in memory charms was unparalleled, seamlessly weaving false recollections into Katu's mind.
When Fudge had brought Katu to Lockhart for additional scrutiny, the author-turned-wizard had marveled at Dumbledore's skill. "If Dumbledore ever wanted to influence someone's actions, it would be almost effortless," Lockhart had remarked.
The sound of the door opening broke the silence, and Katu opened his eyes to see Elder Harmon enter, flanked by his retinue. The elder strode confidently across the room, his sharp gaze briefly assessing the envoy before he spoke.
"Welcome to Gringotts. I am Elder Harmon," he said, his tone courteous yet firm. "You must be Katu. Your director, speaks highly of you—a rare talent among our kind."
Katu's heart skipped a beat. Harmon's detailed knowledge of him was unsettling, but he quickly composed himself. Bowing slightly, he replied, "Elder Harmon, I bring greetings from the Wizarding Bank Association and express our gratitude for your support."
Harmon took his seat opposite Katu, steepling his fingers as a faint smile played on his lips.
"By the way," Harmon began, his voice carrying a hint of amusement, "when are you planning to change your name? The 'Wizarding Bank Association' lacks the charm of the 'Goblin Banking Association,' wouldn't you agree?"
The remark caught Katu off guard, but he masked his discomfort with a forced chuckle. "Elder Harmon, I am not privy to such decisions in my position. Perhaps Elder Nass could provide you with a satisfactory answer."
Harmon waved dismissively, leaning back in his chair. "Very well, I'll discuss it with Nass later. For now, let's focus on the matter at hand."
With a slight gesture, Harmon summoned a bag from behind him. It floated gently onto the table, its enchantments evident in its shimmering surface.
"This contains the weapons you requested," Harmon said. "I trust you've brought the resources we agreed upon?"
Katu's eyes lit up as he retrieved a gray, reinforced space-extension pouch from his belt. Placing it carefully on the table, he pushed it toward Harmon.
"As promised, everything is here," Katu said softly. "Additionally, Elder Nass has authorized me to discuss further cooperation. Our forces have suffered heavy losses against Grindelwald's followers. We urgently require not only weaponry but also goblin combat support."
Katu produced another pouch, identical to the first, and placed it on the table.
"This," he continued, "is a token of our gratitude. Should your forces perform admirably, additional rewards will follow."
Harmon opened the pouch, his expression impassive as he examined its contents. The wealth within was substantial, a tempting prize for any goblin.
A faint smile spread across his lips. "Very well," he said, his tone decisive. "For the glory of our kind, let us forge ahead. May your warriors prove their mettle in the battles to come."
==============================================
Support me at [email protected]/goldengaruda and check out more chapter of this or more early access chapter of my other fanfic translation.
=============================================