It's pretty good at using pronouns as substitutes.
"We are not like those lowly, filthy House-Elves!" As they say, the guiltier someone is, the more they need to emphasize—this Goblin's mental state at this moment pretty much fits that perfectly.
"Got it."
Ian sensed the Eight-Character Moustache Goblin's determination, and for now, he didn't feel like enforcing any kind of master-servant contract. After all, those endlessly hardworking House-Elves at Hogwarts were way easier to order around than Goblins.
Maybe Goblins and House-Elves are like distant cousins species-wise, but if you kept a Goblin at home, you'd basically be robbed every other day. Honestly, it'd feel safer to keep a Niffler around.
Even Zhu Bajie would at least wait until his master disappeared for half a day before packing his bags, but Goblins… You might just step out to fish for a while, and they'd subjectively declare they're inheriting all your assets.
"I've already verified your promise—that's very good, I'm satisfied. Now, take me to the vault." Ian picked a phrase vague enough to be interpreted any way you liked. He actually just wanted to open a vault at Gringotts, and now he was betting he'd left more than just his portrait rights behind.
See?
Who knows you better than yourself, right?
"Of course, no problem at all."
The Eight-Character Moustache Goblin responded immediately, without a hint of unwillingness or the sorrow of possibly losing "legacy" wealth. He directly bent over and gave Ian an inviting gesture.
"Click, clank~"
The massive iron doors swung wide open.
"Can I come along and take a look too?"
Hermione's curiosity was written all over her face.
"Hermione! Visiting someone else's vault is incredibly rude!" Lady Granger quickly came over and grabbed her daughter, who was looking a little disappointed and curious, like a nosy cat.
"Actually, I don't really mind."
Ian truly didn't care, seeing as he had no clue what was in the vault either. If the door needed a blood sacrifice or something to open, maybe Miss Granger could put her skills to good use.
He thought this with a teasing glint in his mind.
However.
The Eight-Character Moustache Goblin immediately shook his head like a rattle drum.
"Besides us Goblins as managers, only the vault's owner and inheritor are allowed to set foot in that domain. If the bloodline's wrong, the magic and traps will blast you into a mist of blood on the spot."
"It's the highest level of security—Supreme Mage Medivh personally cast these protections. I mean, even your Headmaster, that guy you lot can't mention in Gringotts these days, wouldn't be able to slip past the security here." The Goblin's tone was pretty bitter when mentioning the old Headmaster.
Clearly, they were still holding a grudge about that whole Gringotts break-in incident.
"Alright then."
Hearing the Goblin's explanation, Hermione paled visibly—and honestly, the Little Wizard was starting to doubt himself too.
It was all just his guesswork. If all these hunches were wrong and there wasn't any evidence… just the thought of it made his scalp tingle; he almost wanted to back out then and there.
"No risk, no reward, as they say—I do have my backup plan."
Ian patted his chest, even though there was nothing hidden there, and just as the thought occurred, the Black Phoenix quietly teleported over, fully prepared.
"Huh? Am I hearing things again?" Hermione rubbed her ear—and then noticed her new magic wand was trembling ever so slightly.
A strange "kekeke" sound came from within the wand.
But it seemed only she could hear it.
"If you'd like to see one of our Gringotts vaults, you can always rent your own over there—we're doing a special back-to-school promo right now; limited-time rental at a whopping two percent off."
The Eight-Character Moustache Elf took a glance at the Granger family, then sniffed sharply with his nose. Realizing they were carrying plenty of Galleons, he immediately started pitching his services.
"Sure, we'll check it out. Actually, we want to handle currency exchange first—Muggle Coins for Galleons." Mr. Granger nodded right away in response.
"You can do it all over there this year. The exchange limit is a full twenty Galleons per customer—much higher than usual. The Ministry of Magic has been squeezing us even harder with new regulations."
"Still don't get what value you see in all that Muggle scrap paper…" The Goblin was obviously annoyed, but still pointed the Granger family toward the service desk.
"I'll happily recycle all the scrap paper you don't want." Ian immediately jumped in, but the Goblin just bowed slightly and gave a rather disappointing answer.
"The Ministry of Magic won't let us process Muggle money privately—otherwise, I'd have no problem just handing it over. To us Goblins, those notes mean even less than our lives." With Ian, the Goblin was obviously much more deferential—the branding mark on his forehead was still plenty effective.
"Please wait a moment while I grab my Ding-Dong Coin." Suddenly the Goblin seemed to remember something, so he jogged off toward a workstation that had clearly been gathering dust for ages.
The Goblins keep a fierce Fire Dragon imprisoned in the underground vaults to deal with any intruders—and after losing one before, they went and got three more.
The Ding-Dong Coin is the "access pass" that lets Goblins and their clients travel safely inside the vaults.
"No rush, take your time."