In the final moment of her life, Bellatrix's gaze even slid from the Longbottoms to Lucius Malfoy—who had been standing silently at the back from the beginning—her brother-in-law.
Lucius merely stood there expressionless, his gaze profound, and then what awaited Bella was a stretch of darkness, until her soul returned to this world once more.
Harry... he was necromancing.
Uh, essentially, what he was doing now wasn't much different from those dark shaman priests—that is, no longer treating spirits or souls as equals, but forcibly extracting everything he wanted from the soul.
Harry communed with Bella's spirit, and from the mouth of this dark soul, he learned what Voldemort had once bestowed upon her, and where she had stored those treasures.
An unexpected place, not some secret vault specially built by a pure-blood family, but Gringotts, the goblins' territory.
The Lestrange family vault.
Bellatrix was indeed a servant Voldemort trusted deeply... at least one step above the average Death Eater, but even so, Bellatrix had no idea that Voldemort had once bestowed a Horcrux upon her. She only remembered keeping everything Voldemort had given her intact in the safest place—Gringotts.
To be honest, Harry was quite curious why all wizards, even extreme ones like Death Eaters, considered Gringotts safe. The goblins' last rebellion hadn't even been a hundred years ago.
But now, or rather for a long time to come, probably no wizard would think Gringotts was safe anymore... because Harry and Dumbledore had arrived at Gringotts.
Having taken Polyjuice Potion, transforming themselves into the appearance of ordinary British Muggles, even the wands in their hands were second-hand ones with no original owners.
Clearly, when Harry and Dumbledore appeared in Gringotts in this form, it was no longer a safe place.
The two were currently sitting in a private reception room sipping tea. They had appeared at Gringotts as guests entering from Egypt, opening with a request to discuss a big deal with the goblins.
And after the goblins got a brief glimpse of the jewelry in their bag, they excitedly led them into a small reception room.
"Interview time," Harry suddenly turned to Dumbledore on the other side after taking a sip of hot tea. "Carl, how are you feeling right now?"
"Oh, Bruce, you know what? That's actually the question I wanted to ask you," Dumbledore laughed.
Carl Kent—that was the alias Dumbledore was using now, a man in his thirties or so, an American wizard who had struck it rich in Egypt and wanted to cash in big in Britain. Every year, hordes of wizards went tomb-raiding in Egypt, mostly Americans, and those who struck it rich would usually sell their goods through Gringotts, since those goblins had a huge operation in Egypt.
And Harry's name was Bruce Wayne, Kent's good buddy; the two had made their fortune together.
The goblins couldn't possibly be unaware that the pair's identities were suspicious, but they didn't care—because the jewelry and antiques Harry had shown them were genuine. Since they were real, that made them Gringotts' most honored guests.
As long as the goblins still wanted to pocket those shady treasures from the outside world this way, they couldn't choose to rob them blind at a time like this and give wizards in the gray areas an unreliable impression.
"Me?" Harry thought for a moment. "Pretty ordinary, nothing special... If I think about it carefully, I've done stuff like this before—disguise myself to infiltrate someone else's castle or fortress, then assassinate, um, or maybe it doesn't count as assassination? Anyway, just take out anyone who's our enemy."
"Oh, that sounds thrilling," Dumbledore shrugged. "As for me, I just find it wondrous—you know, Bruce, when I was young, I did fantasize about robbing Gringotts—not that I'd actually do it, but every boy must have imagined himself being that dashing."
"Dashing?" Harry's expression was a bit odd; he hadn't expected Dumbledore to have actually thought about this.
"Yes, dashing of course," Dumbledore affirmed without waiting for a theory. "Remember those words at the entrance to Gringotts? 'Enter, stranger, but take heed of what awaits the sin of greed...'"
"...He who takes heed will find not treasure, but retribution," Harry continued. "Sounds like those words not only didn't serve as any warning for you, but more like an invitation."
"Well, I wouldn't want to admit it, but you have to say young people always have more guts, right?" Dumbledore blinked.
"You're right," Harry said with a smile. "So now, you get to fulfill your childhood dream."
"Ahem, correction—it's not exactly a dream, more like a... whimsical idea."
"Then whimsical idea it is."
As the two chatted idly, suddenly the reception room door opened, and an elderly goblin strode in quickly, followed by a few smaller goblins.
"Sorry to keep you distinguished guests waiting. I'm Bogrod," the old goblin said with a face full of smiles. "Per procedure, I need to confirm again what you want to deposit in Gringotts... the treasures, so?"
"No problem, it's all here." Harry stood up, thought for a second, and simply turned over the leather bag enchanted with an Undetectable Extension Charm, dumping everything inside onto the table.
The crisp clinking of gold and gems colliding made the goblins' eyes widen a bit, and Bogrod greedily pounced at the table, incessantly tapping each piece of gold and jewelry with his fingers.
"Very good, all genuine." After a long while, Bogrod buried his head among the jewels, took a deep breath, and said, "Confirming again—you want Gringotts to handle the sale of these gold and jewels?"
"Just a portion," Dumbledore, already familiar with goblin habits, shook his head slightly. "Leave a third of the items to store in a vault—we can trust Gringotts' vault security, right?"
"Of course! You can absolutely trust Gringotts' security!" Bogrod said without hesitation. "In that case, let's head over quickly... I'll personally escort you. I hope you'll be satisfied. Um, if you have more goods of this quality in the future, please continue contacting Gringotts—those wild goblins outside are untrustworthy."
"No problem," Harry said readily. "Isn't that why we're here, for the security? Gringotts has a solid reputation in that regard."
"Of course!" Bogrod looked even happier.
Following this old goblin, Harry and Dumbledore began heading toward the underground vaults of Gringotts. They passed through a spacious marble hall where about a hundred goblins sat behind desks incessantly handling customers—some weighing coins on scales, others examining gems in their hands.
Harry even spotted Lupin and a few novice goblin shamans. They wore attire starkly different from the other goblins, decorated with animal pelts and skulls, and they were arguing with the elementals beside them.
"...Why not?! We've paid you!"
"That's right! We've gotten you elemental cores from other elements before—we've signed a contract!"
"Per the contract, you should help us take out those business rivals!"
"Take them out!!"
The angry voices of two goblin shamans were loud enough for half the hall to hear, while the two elementals opposite them babbled in self-defense, and then there was Lupin—Harry had no idea why Lupin was here again; by rights, he shouldn't be handling goblin affairs anymore.
"That's because they can't possibly take out your rivals!!" One hand on his forehead, Lupin looked like he was about to faint from anger. "I told you before! You're shaman priests! You're meant to maintain world peace, protect the world, shaman priests of elemental balance! Elementals aren't your hitmen!"
"But we signed a contract!" a goblin shaman argued. "And who they want taken out aren't wizards, but goblins!!"
"Even if they're goblins, no!" Lupin took a deep breath. "Whether goblins or elementals, everyone has to follow wizard law! Got it?! Absolutely do not let elementals take out your opponents! Not business rivals either!"
"Damn it! You could just pretend not to know! Elemental beings aren't even formally registered as magical races yet! They're still unrestricted!"
"I don't care about that! Ropes! I'm not your teacher anymore! Understand?! I'm a professor at Hogwarts now! I'm only here helping because of our—brief friendship! Don't make me call the Ministry! Don't cause trouble for the shaman priest profession!"
Lupin... uh, this was the first time Harry had seen his werewolf uncle this angry.
"Ignore them," Bogrod didn't even glance that way, continuing to walk briskly as he said, "Young folks these days always mess with these flashy things. Back in the day... hah!"
Gringotts' vaults were located hundreds of meters underground in London. Passing through the hall led to narrow stone corridors and a small railway; the goblins used these enchanted carts to transport passengers to each vault.
But each vault's security level was different. The Lestrange family vault was in the deepest section, one of the most heavily guarded batches. Without a certain status, mere money wouldn't get you a vault here.
To keep this operation as low-key as possible, Dumbledore had likely dipped into part of his retirement savings... at least to get the goblins to place their vault far back, Vault 693.
They passed through a maze-like winding tunnel and an underground lake hung with massive stalactites and stalagmites. The old goblin deftly drove the cart; this was now deeper into Gringotts than Harry had ever reached before.
"We're here, gentlemen," the cart suddenly stopped. Bogrod tried to stand and head to the platform. "Vault 693, yes, right this way. Very secure. No matter what needs customers have, Gringotts can precisely meet different customers' requirements, understanding their difficulties..."
"Here?" Dumbledore asked. "How come it feels like we haven't arrived yet?"
"Huh?" Bogrod turned blankly, his gaze clearly sliding over the number at the top of the vault—693—then nodded. "Indeed not yet... Sorry, it's been many years since I personally handled such a big deal. My mistake. Sit tight; we need to keep going."
When the cart started up again, Harry lightly bumped Dumbledore's shoulder from the back seat.
"Imperius Curse?"
"No, just a Confundus Charm—sorry, we'll talk in a bit, Harry. I'm feeling really bad right now." Setting down his wand, Dumbledore gripped the handrail tightly with one hand, his face extraordinarily pale.
When the cart stopped again, Dumbledore poked his head out of the cart as fast as possible, looking like he might vomit any second.
"Here?" Harry looked left and right; he only saw a massive dragon guarding the path ahead, with a few vault doors farther off.
"Not yet, honored sirs. We have to pass the dragon," Bogrod shook his head slightly. He took out some small metal instruments from his side and raised his hand to rattle them.
A loud, crisp clanging sounded, like a hammer striking an anvil, and this dragon was clearly impressed by the noise—it writhed in pain, roaring as it shrank back a few steps to clear the way.
"The Lestrange vault has arrived, honored gentlemen," Bogrod bowed deeply. "It's been a long time since anyone from the Lestrange family came here. This is truly..."
"Open the door, no nonsense." Stepping out of the cart, Harry reached out to pull Dumbledore up. "You okay?"
"I... am fine," Dumbledore took a deep breath. "My god, the goblins' transportation isn't friendly to old folks, is it?"
The Polyjuice Potion hadn't actually made Dumbledore young... uh, though probably many young people couldn't handle this speed and jolting either.
"Luckily we're only using it this once," Harry said with a smile. "Even without the Elder Wand, your spells are still that powerful."
The effect of Dumbledore's Confundus Charm was practically like the Imperius Curse; even now, the old goblin thought he was at Vault 693's door, not realizing anything off even when he uttered the Lestrange name.
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