Chapter 553: The Goblin Alliance?
Sean Green had learned many things in his young life, but this was the first
time he had seen "friendship" placed upon a scale and weighed for its market
value.
He had a growing suspicion that the Goblins' contract magic was a secret as
closely guarded as the art of wand-making. Why would they offer such a prize in
exchange for nothing more than a vague promise?
"Why?" the young wizard asked.
His voice was as steady and calm as a mountain lake, but it sent a ripple of
unease through Verne's ancient heart.
"You will understand. If you wish to withdraw a treasure from our vaults that
never belonged to you in the first place—this is the fee," the elderly Goblin
said gravelly.
"My Master means to say that the two are not of equal value," Quirrell added,
his tone bordering on arrogant. He glanced at Sean, who gave a small, graceful
nod. It was clear to Quirrell that the Goblins didn't fully grasp just how high
his Master's standing in the wizarding world truly was.
"Mind your tongue, Wand-Bearer," Verne spat, his eyes flashing with a brief
spark of rage. He took a breath, calming himself before turning back to Sean.
"This is our offer, sir. Once you witness the inheritance of our magic, you will
realize it is a bargain."
"Wand-Bearer?" Sean repeated the phrase, tasting the weight of it.
"The right to carry a wand," Verne said, his voice dropping to a somber
register, "is a right wizards and goblins have bled over for centuries. We can
cast without them, yes, but it is a hollow victory. Wizards refuse to share the
secrets of wand-lore; they keep us restricted, prevent our growth, and some...
especially the Dark Lord... have even sought our total subjugation."
"I see..." Sean began to connect the dots.
"There is no second choice, sir," Verne continued, his pride as a Goblin
momentarily eclipsed by a raw, naked fear. "When the Dark Lord was at the height
of his power, the supremacy of the wizarding race was absolute. Gringotts would
have been nationalized, and the house-elves... well, they would have been
slaughtered like cattle.
"We are placing our bets on you, sir. Your failure would be the Goblins'
failure. Your success will allow us to share in the glory of a new era."
Sean remained silent for a long moment.
"You have a very keen eye for talent," Quirrell muttered under his breath.
"How much do you actually know?" Sean asked. He realized he might have
underestimated the reach of the Goblin intelligence network. They seemed to
exist on the fringes of wizarding society, but the truth was likely quite the
opposite.
"If Gringotts is to believe that a wizard exists who seeks no personal gain, a
wizard who could truly be an ally..." Verne said, his voice gaining a hint of
reverence, "then that wizard is you. Goblins and elves have received precious
little respect and protection from Wand-Bearers in the past."
"You've been investigating my Master—"
Quirrell's voice rose, turning dangerous. He reached for his wand, causing the
surrounding Goblin guards to tense. If they weren't mistaken, the tip of that
wand was emitting a faint, sickly green glow.
"Everyone in the magical world is investigating 'Hermes Returned,'" Verne said,
unperturbed. "You could kill me now, wizard, but that would only make this
alliance more meaningful."
"You think you know me?" Sean asked. He wanted to know the mechanics of their
information gathering.
"Goblins find it remarkably easy to extract secrets from 'thick-headed'
house-elves," Verne replied, his eyes lowering. "We have heard your story from
more than one of them."
Sean paused. Interrogating house-elves... It was a simple, yet devastatingly
effective method of surveillance.
"We believe that if anyone is worthy of the Goblins' respect, it is you." Verne
stared at Sean with an intensity that bordered on fanatical.
Sean thought for a few seconds, then exchanged a look with Professor Quirrell.
He noticed the Professor looked uncharacteristically anxious.
"Professor?" Sean asked quietly.
"You're going to agree, aren't you, sir? Then I must give you a word of warning.
You must be very clear about what you expect from Gringotts, and exactly what
you are promising in return."
Quirrell dropped his voice to a frantic whisper. "If you enter into a pact with
Goblins—especially one this broad—you must be careful. The Goblin concept of
ownership and compensation is... unique."
"In what way?"
"We are discussing an entirely different species, sir," Quirrell explained
rapidly. "Centuries of wizard-goblin relations have been defined by conflict.
Both sides have blood on their hands, and I won't claim wizards are innocent.
However, Goblins—especially those at Gringotts—believe that when it comes to
gold and treasure, wizards are inherently untrustworthy. They believe wizards do
not respect the rights of the maker."
"Explain," Sean prompted.
"To a goblin, the rightful owner of any object is the person who made it, not
the person who bought it. If a wizard buys a goblin-forged blade, the Goblins
consider it a rental. They find it abhorrent when goblin-made items are passed
down from wizard to wizard. They believe that once the original buyer dies, the
item should return to the Goblins. To them, our habit of keeping their crafts in
our families without further payment is nothing short of theft."
Quirrell shot a glance at Verne, who remained standing respectfully, showing no
sign of impatience. Sean realized the fundamental disconnect: a wizard views a
contract as a "buy-out"; a goblin views it as a "lease."
"Be careful, sir," Quirrell sighed. "The ownership of this alliance rests with
you. I have never seen a Goblin contract like this. They trade for your
friendship, yet they haven't specified the expiration date of that friendship."
Quirrell's eyes glinted with a strange light. As long as you are here, Sean, the
Goblins will be your servants. But what happens after?
Goblins couldn't hope to defeat wizards in a fair fight—not yet. But they were
patient. In Sean's eyes—those calm, emerald eyes—perhaps all races were equal.
To a wizard, that was the ultimate heresy.
Quirrell knew that only one man in history could command such a gaze: a man
destined for Legend. Someone who looked down upon the world yet cared for every
spark of life within it.
The Goblins were clever. They had found the easiest way to break the deadlock of
history. But Quirrell didn't care about the long-term politics. He was a "Sean
Green man," and that was enough.
Ultimately, Sean accepted the Goblins' terms.
Verne looked overjoyed. He offered a deep, sweeping bow. "Welcome, Most
Respected Friend of the Goblins. Welcome to Gringotts."
The lobby was filled with the usual bustle of customers, but for a split second,
everything stopped. Every wizard in the room watched in shock as every Goblin
behind the counter stood up and bowed toward the same corner.
"What's going on?" a wizard muttered, standing on his tiptoes. But the person
being ushered into the VIP chambers was already gone.
"Please, follow me," Verne said, his usual stoicism replaced by a frantic
energy.
Sean's eyes narrowed. He was already thinking of his next objective. Alongside
the search for Voldemort and Nagini, another plan had been added to his mental
parchment: The destruction of Hufflepuff's Cup.
The difficulty lay in the Gringotts security. The cup was hidden in the deepest
vaults, guarded by a dragon within the Lestrange family hoard. Now, Sean had the
perfect opportunity to map out the bank's defenses from the inside.
Infiltrating Gringotts, Sean mused. It was the ultimate fallback plan. But he
wondered if the Goblins might be willing to break tradition for him—to simply
let him "borrow" the Horcrux...
After a long walk through the marble corridors, Verne let out a sharp whistle. A
small cart came rattling out of the darkness along a set of iron tracks. They
were invited aboard—Verne in the front, Sean and Quirrell in the wide rear seat.
The cart lurched into motion, accelerating until the wind was roaring in their
ears. It hurtled through a labyrinth of twisting tunnels, the clatter-clack of
the wheels drowning out all conversation. They performed series of gut-wrenching
turns amidst giant stalactites, diving deeper into the earth than Sean had ever
been.
Suddenly, they rounded a sharp corner and saw a sheet of water rushing over the
tracks ahead. As they approached, the flow abruptly stopped.
"The Thief's Downfall," Verne explained respectfully, looking back at the
glistening tracks. "It washes away all enchantments, all magical disguises. If
we suspected an imposter, we would activate the full defense. The cart would be
derailed, and the intruder would be trapped below with no way out."
Sean made a mental note.
The cart continued its descent. From the darkness ahead came a low, metallic
clanking.
"We are nearly there, Sir..."
The tunnels brightened considerably. Sean saw a massive dragon tethered to the
ground, its bulk blocking the path to the four or five deepest vaults.
The beast had been trapped in the dark for so long that its scales had turned a
sickly, translucent white. Its eyes were a cloudy, milky pink. Heavy iron
shackles bound its hind legs, with thick chains anchored deep into the living
stone of the floor. Its vast, spiked wings were folded against its sides; if
unfurled, they would have filled the entire cavern.
The dragon turned its scarred, ugly head toward them and let out a roar that
made the stone beneath them tremble. It opened its massive maw and let out a
burst of flame. The cart screeched to a halt.
"It's blind," Verne said with a grin. "Which only makes it more vicious. But we
have our ways of controlling it. It has a conditioned reflex to the Clankers."
Verne produced a set of metal instruments and began to shake them. The noise
echoed off the cavern walls, amplified into a jarring, painful din. Sean quickly
cast a silent Muffling Charm on himself.
The dragon let out a piteous, raspy groan and backed away, its entire body
trembling. Sean could see the rows of deep scars across its face. The poor
creature had been trained to fear the sound of the Clankers more than the bite
of a sword.
Sean slowly stepped out of the cart and approached the beast. He reached out and
placed a hand on its cold, scaly flank. Using his Direct Communion talent, he
listened.
He heard its ragged breathing, the underlying thrum of hunger, and the hollow
ache of a century of pain. The dragon's roars began to resolve into concepts
Sean could understand.
[You have gained the favor of the magical creature: Dragon (Aaron). Affinity
+50] [Dragon Aaron: Slightly Friendly (100/300)]
"It's hungry," Sean said.
"A hungry guardian is a vigilant guardian," Verne noted with a cold smirk. Then
he caught Sean's gaze and his expression shifted instantly. "But if it is your
wish, Most Respected Friend... we shall see that he is fed."
Verne pulled out a Magic Hand Mirror. "Feed big Aaron. Double rations."
"Please, continue this way..."
Verne led them past the dragon. The beast watched Sean go with a look of pure,
animal longing.
Sean scanned the area. He was looking at the vault doors. Which one belongs to
the Lestranges? he wondered. Even if he found it, he knew he couldn't open it.
Only a Goblin's touch could deactivate the seals.
"We have reached a decision, Sir," Verne said, interrupting Sean's thoughts. He
gestured for Sean to place his palm against one of the massive wooden doors.
"Please, accept the first gift of our alliance."
To Sean's surprise, the moment his hand touched the wood, the door didn't just
open—it vanished entirely, revealing the dark opening of a vault.
Well, Sean thought, I suppose I don't have to worry about how to get in anymore.
"What is this?" Sean asked, looking at the elderly Goblin with genuine
confusion.
"A unanimous vote from the Board. Most Respected Friend, we have chosen to share
the Goblin Craft with you. You now have 'Master' access to the deep vaults."
Sean stared at him. He knew that fate never gave gifts; it only accepted trades.
By giving him this access, the Goblins were clearly planning for a massive
return on their investment.
"You can trust them, sir," Quirrell said, breaking his long silence.
The Professor understood what Sean didn't. The Goblins weren't just trading for
friendship; they were making a massive gamble on the future. And they weren't
expecting their reward to come from Sean's hands, but from the world he was
going to create.
"A wizard's treasure is not just gold, and a goblin is more than a simple
guard," Verne hummed, his eyes burning with expectation. "Oh, and I should
inform you of one more thing."
Verne reached for a piece of parchment. The moment his fingers brushed it, he
snatched his hand back as if he had touched a hot stove.
Sean watched as the gold-embossed parchment fell to the floor. As it hit the
stone, it split. Then it split again. Within seconds, the floor was covered in a
carpet of identical parchments, with a series of loud pops and cracks.
"We have added the Flagrante and Gemino curses," Verne explained. "Anything
touched by an unauthorized hand will burn and multiply. The copies are
worthless, and if a thief continues to touch the hoard, they will eventually be
crushed to death by their own greed."
"And if one doesn't use their hands?" Sean asked.
Verne let out a cackling laugh. "Ah, sir. You are indeed as clever as they say."
☆☆☆
-> SUPPORT ME WITH POWER STONE
-> FOR EVERY 200 PS = BOUNS CHAPTER
☆☆☆
-> 30 Advanced chapters Now Available on Patreon!!
-> https://www.pat-reon.co-m/c/Inkshaper
(Just remove the hyphen (-) to access patreon normally)
If you like this novel please consider leaving a review that's help the story a lot Thank you