"Why am I feeling this?" Dudley wondered, his mind racing. "Is there a danger here? Or is a powerful wizard monitoring this entire place?"
Having survived in a world of constant peril, caution was etched into his very soul. Even a subtle feeling like this, one that could easily be dismissed as a misconception, was something he could not ignore. It was this ingrained prudence that had allowed him to reach a High Sequence and live to tell the tale.
"This is supposed to be the safest bank in the magical world," he reasoned, "so it must have extensive security measures. It's plausible that powerful wizards are constantly observing this place." The feeling of being watched likely originated from Gringotts' own defenses. But that still didn't explain the other sensation.
"Where is that evil and mad aura coming from?"
He activated his Spirit Vision, carefully scanning his surroundings, but saw nothing but the faint, shimmering traces of magical wards protecting the vaults.
"Unfortunately, I'm not familiar with this place at all," he thought, a flicker of frustration passing through him. "The Arbitrator's abilities can't be fully utilized here." The Judge Pathway's ability to detect evil and madness was most potent in a familiar environment. He was only able to sense that faint trace of corruption because of his past as a High-Sequence powerhouse. A true Sequence 9 Arbitrator would have noticed nothing at all.
"Hagrid told me there's a dragon guarding the vaults down here," Harry whispered, noticing Dudley's frown.
"A dragon?" Dudley asked, his interest piqued.
"Yes. He said Gringotts uses them to guard the highest security vaults."
"Is that so?" Dudley nodded thoughtfully. Dragons were extraordinary creatures, often beyond simple classifications of good and evil. It was entirely possible that the malevolent aura he felt originated from one of them.
"No matter what," he resolved, "I'll be careful today. I haven't had this feeling in a long, long time." He reached into his coat, his fingers brushing against the cool, metallic surface of Trunsoest's Brass Book. The familiar weight was reassuring. Knowing he was entering a potentially dangerous, unknown magical environment, he had brought the Sealed Artifact with him, just in case. Caution was always the correct path.
The mine cart continued its wild, hurtling journey. After what felt like an eternity of twists and turns, plunging miles beneath the streets of London, it finally screeched to a halt.
Griphook hopped out and led them to a vault door. Hagrid, his face a distinct shade of green, fumbled with a key and handed it to the goblin. He looked as if he were about to be sick. Griphook unlocked the door, and a thick, green mist billowed out. When it cleared, Harry gasped. The vault was overflowing with mountains of gold, silver, and bronze coins.
"All of this is yours," Hagrid said, suppressing a groan.
Dudley was also taken aback. He had suspected Harry's parents had left him an inheritance, but he had not expected this. This wasn't just well-off; this was, as a certain magnate from his past life would say, 'tycoon' level.
As he was about to comment, a sudden, intense chill shot down his spine. The feeling of being watched was back, stronger than ever, and with it, the evil and mad aura intensified dramatically.
Dudley spun around, his eyes locking onto a stalactite dozens of meters away in the oppressive darkness. There was nothing there, but his instincts screamed at him. He immediately poured his spiritual power into his eyes, activating his full Spirit Vision.
The world sharpened. Faint auras began to appear, and behind the distant stalactite, a blurred, shimmering outline slowly emerged.
"There's someone there!" Dudley's gaze narrowed. He was certain of it.
But just as he was about to get a closer look, the shimmering halo vanished, as if it had never been there at all. The feeling of being watched, along with the evil aura, faded almost completely.
"What's wrong?" Griphook asked, his sharp eyes noticing Dudley's sudden movement.
"Nothing," Dudley said, shaking his head. The presence was gone. He couldn't be sure if it was Gringotts security or something more sinister. Accusing a phantom would get him nowhere.
After Harry had stuffed a bag full of coins, Hagrid led them out of the vault. "Blimey, we should've been here this morning," he grumbled. "All my fault for oversleeping. Hope it doesn't delay Professor Dumbledore's business."
"It's only a few hours' delay," Harry comforted him. "Nothing should happen."
"I hope you're right," Hagrid muttered.
They boarded the cart once more and drove even deeper into the bank's subterranean labyrinth. Dudley remained silent and vigilant, his senses on high alert. He trusted his own judgment far more than the proclaimed safety of any institution.
Soon, the cart stopped again, this time before a high-security vault marked with the number 713. This was Hagrid's top-secret errand for Hogwarts. Once it was done, they could finally return to the surface.
"Now, don't get too close," Hagrid warned Harry. "Only a goblin can open this door. Anyone else who tries will be sucked in and trapped."
Dudley noted that Vault 713 had no keyhole.
Griphook stepped forward, placed his long, withered finger on the solid metal door, and began to trace a pattern, sliding it slowly downwards.
It was in that precise moment that the evil and mad aura returned, stronger and more malevolent than ever before.
***
(End of Chapter)
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