Harry Potter and the Secret Treasures

“Careful, careful — this dragon has grown more and more vicious over the past few years,” the old goblin said irritably. “It’s too old and its sight is failing, so it lashes out at anything around it in blind fury. If the dragon reserve in Romania didn’t ask such outrageous prices, we would have replaced it long ago. The cost of dragons in Europe and America is far too high — those wizards have nothing but gold in their eyes. We’re in talks with the wizards in China; they’ve agreed to sell us a Chinese Fireball at a much lower price.”

He then produced a number of small metal instruments and distributed them to everyone.

When shaken, these instruments made a loud, ringing noise like miniature hammers on anvils.

“You know what to do,” said the old goblin slowly. “It will expect pain when it hears the noise: It will retreat. Then we’ll proceed and stop at the door to the Lestrange Family vault. I’ll place my palm upon the door to open it. This is the highest-level vault I’m authorized to open.”

“All you have to do is put your palm upon the door?” Evan asked.

“Yes, Mr. Lestrange. Is there a problem?”

“A slight one, since there are two more of us here,” said Evan, pointing his wand at him. “Imperio.”

That peculiar, floating sensation of control once again flowed from his mind into his wand. The old goblin’s bewildered, fearful expression slackened into a polite indifference.

“Hermione, Elaine, come out. We won’t need him here anymore,” said Evan, finding two new metal instruments and handing them to Hermione and Elaine. “It’s going better than expected. The goblins are too afraid of Bellatrix and the Death Eaters. Even if they have any doubts, they dare not take action.”

The timing was perfect. The smooth operation today made Evan wonder if Voldemort had come to Gringotts to intimidate the goblins last night.

That would explain why they were so compliant.

“Evan, how do you plan to deal with them?” Hermione asked, pointing at the old goblin and Bellatrix.

“The Memory Charm is enough for the goblin. I can modify his memory. As for Bellatrix…”

“Are you going to kill her?”

“She deserves it!” said Harry. “She’s done so much evil. She should have been killed long ago.”

“I know, but we’re not the Wizengamot. We don’t have the right to judge or kill anyone. Even at the last moment, the Aurors weren’t authorized to take extreme measures against Death Eaters and Dark wizards, and neither are we,” Hermione hesitated. “I know it’s bad, but this isn’t a battle.”

“So what are you going to do? Take this woman back and release her?” Harry asked, half-amused, half-angry at Hermione.

“I don’t know!” Hermione shook her head. “I’ve been thinking about it.”

That was the way with the overly kind-hearted, the too-righteous wizards — they clung to their principles and their moral bottom line, even when the one before them was a vile criminal.

Some things, once done, might not be wrong — but they would weigh on one’s conscience.

For example, killing someone outside of battle — no matter how much they might deserve death — was still cold-blooded murder, an immoral act.

Just because they had to fight Voldemort and the Death Eaters, they couldn’t lower their moral standards to the same level as them.

But if the enemy was killed in the heat of battle, that was another matter entirely. Otherwise, why would they still be fighting Voldemort?

“I’ve thought it through, and I think keeping Bellatrix in the Lestrange family vault would be a good option. There’s no need to dirty our hands by killing her, even if she deserves it. I can cast a spell on her so that she remains unconscious until someone wakes her up. When the war is over, we can tell the Aurors where to find her,” said Evan. “I might as well go take a look at Vault One downstairs. You know, the Slytherin family vault.”

“You mean… the Slytherin family vault?” Elaine asked in surprise.

“That’s right. Many of the old pure-blood families have vaults in Gringotts; the Slytherin family is no exception. Salazar Slytherin owned the very first vault built after Gringotts was founded,” Evan went on. “We’re not going there to steal anything. You’re the legitimate heir to that vault now, Elaine — we have the right to open it.”

“But we don’t have the key.”

“No one has it, But there’s no harm in trying our luck,” said Evan, raising the metal instrument in his hand. “Come on, let’s go in.”

They advanced around the corner again, shaking the Clankers, and the noise echoed off the rocky walls, grossly magnified. The dragon let out another hoarse roar, then retreated. It could be seen trembling, and as they drew nearer, the scars made by vicious slashes across its face became more distinct. It had obviously been taught to fear hot swords when it heard the sound of the Clankers.

At such close range, they could even feel the intense heat radiating from the dragon’s massive body.

Seconds later, they all slipped one by one into the small chamber at the far end behind the dragon.

As the clinking ceased, the dragon’s furious roar could be heard, along with a wave of heat.

Even through the walls, the temperature was astonishingly high.

Passing through a short tunnel, they arrived at a spiraling circular staircase.

The walls were lined with vaults, inscribed with the emblems of Wizarding families.

At the top of the staircase, closest to the dragon’s head, was the entrance to the deepest tunnels of Gringotts.

“The Lestrange family’s vault is here,” said Evan, pointing his wand at the old goblin.

The goblin moved forward, pressing his palm to the wood, and the door of the vault melted away to reveal a cavelike opening crammed from floor to ceiling with golden coins and goblets, silver armor, the skins of strange creatures — some with long spines, others with drooping wings — potions in jeweled flasks, and a skull still wearing a crown.

The cavern was vast; for a single Wizarding family, even over a thousand years of hoarding could hardly account for such a staggering fortune.

What the goblin Griphook said was right. Before her death, Sirius’s mother had divided all the Black family’s treasures equally between her two nieces.

That was why Bellatrix was so wealthy.

“This is it. Where’s Hufflepuff’s cup?” Harry asked, ready to rush inside.

“Wait, Harry, there’s more magic in there,” said Evan. “We’d better be careful not to touch anything in there, especially the gold. Okay, let’s go in together. We’ll stay by the entrance and then look for the cup.”

They walked in, but before they had time to glance around, there was a muffled clunk from behind them: The door had reappeared, sealing them inside the vault, and they were plunged into total darkness.