Dumbledore didn't elaborate on the topic, as he himself was puzzled by how Dudley had suddenly transformed from a Muggle into a wizard—and a remarkably powerful one at that, seemingly self-taught.
He rubbed the fake Philosopher's Stone packet Hagrid had handed him with his aged hands, allowing a trickle of magic to seep into it. His expression shifted slightly.
With his expertise in alchemy, he could tell immediately that this was no Philosopher's Stone—it was, at best, a decent-quality natural ruby.
Had Voldemort succeeded? Had the goblins swapped it? Or was it the work of the extraordinary young Mr. Dursley?
Dumbledore pondered, and based on the information at hand, the answer didn't seem too difficult to guess.
It was as obvious as the heated argument unfolding nearby.
"Is this how Gringotts handles security? Your vaults are like sieves—terrorists come and go as they please! Your employees scurry away like rats at the first sign of trouble!
And the dragon guards, the goblin patrols—what a joke! A single fire spell and you're all useless! What exactly are you doing with all the vault management fees the wizarding families pay every year? Throwing it all into the Irish Sea without a ripple?
Do you have any idea how close we were to dying? My cousin, our friend Hagrid, and I—we almost didn't make it out alive!
Anyone watching would think we were here to withdraw money, not storm a terrorist stronghold!"
Dudley was in full swing, his voice booming as he berated the goblins who were cleaning up the mess in the underground vault. His presence loomed larger than Hagrid's towering frame, and the goblins hung their heads in shame, unable to meet his gaze.
A goblin manager stepped forward reluctantly, trying to placate him. "Esteemed guest, we at Gringotts deeply regret your unfortunate experience—"
"Regret?!" Dudley cut him off sharply. "How many Galleons is regret worth per ounce? You think you can just flap your wrinkled, dry lips and sweep this under the rug?
I was hit with the Cruciatus Curse! The most excruciating of the Unforgivable Curses! How do you compensate for my pain? For the terror we endured? For the life-and-death situation we faced?!
If you don't give me a satisfactory answer today, I'll take this straight to the Daily Prophet. I'll expose your pathetic security to the entire wizarding world, and every witch and wizard will withdraw their gold from Gringotts—every last Knut!"
"No—!" The goblins panicked. Their ancestors had been defeated by wizards, stripped of the right to wield wands, and now their only pride lay in gold and treasure. A mass withdrawal would be worse than death.
"One thousand—no, three thousand Galleons! And permanent exemption from vault management fees for the Potter family!" the goblin manager offered, his voice strained with reluctance.
"I think we're done here. Harry, let's empty the vault and head straight to the Daily Prophet. We'll book the front page for a year!" Dudley's expression turned icy as he made to leave.
"Wait! Please, no! Alright, you win! Ten thousand Galleons, and a permanent vault fee exemption!" The goblin manager slumped onto a stone step, looking as though he'd been hit by the Imperius Curse, his soul utterly drained.
"I want a hundred thousand Galleons! Not a Knut less!" Dudley's smile turned predatory, his demand leaving no room for negotiation.
"No! That's impossible!" The goblin manager leapt to his feet as if the step had burned him, his voice rising in desperation. The other goblins murmured in agreement, their protests cutting to the heart of the matter.
Dudley merely smirked, letting the silence press down on the goblins like a suffocating weight.
The goblin manager wiped the sweat from his brow, the droplets tracing the deep wrinkles of his skin. After a long pause, he reluctantly conceded.
"Fifty thousand Galleons! That's the absolute maximum we can offer!" he said, his voice strained. "And that's only out of respect for Harry Potter and Professor Dumbledore!"
Seeing Dumbledore and Hagrid approaching, the goblin manager tried to salvage the situation by invoking their names. But mentioning Dumbledore only fueled Dudley's anger.
"Oh, so Hagrid and I aren't worth a single Galleon? Not even worth mentioning? Are we nobodies who don't matter?!" Dudley roared, his magic flaring dangerously. "Do we deserve to die just because we're not famous?!"
The goblin manager stumbled back, stammering, "N-no, that's not what I meant!"
"Then what did you mean?!" Dudley advanced, his presence overwhelming.
"Gringotts must provide compensation," Dumbledore interjected sternly as he approached. "Your attempt to cover up this incident by keeping me out of the vault nearly cost innocent lives—"
"Shut it!" Dudley snapped, cutting Dumbledore off. He could tell the old wizard was trying to explain himself, to justify his actions to Dudley and Harry. But Dudley wasn't having it—this mess was Dumbledore's fault, and there was no dodging it.
"Fifty thousand Galleons, permanent fee exemption for the Potter vault, and two injured Norwegian Ridgebacks—a male and a female!" Dudley declared, his tone leaving no room for argument.
The goblins and Hagrid stared in stunned silence.
"Y-yes… agreed," the goblin manager stammered, his mind reeling. Instinct told him not to argue with someone who dared to confront Dumbledore head-on.
But as the reality of the deal sank in, he quickly added, "But the Ministry doesn't allow private ownership of dragons. Should we have them slaughtered—"
"Excuse me?!" Dudley's glare was murderous.
"I-I mean, where should we deliver the dragons?" the goblin manager backtracked hastily.
"Deposit the fifty thousand Galleons into the Potter vault. Heal the dragons' burns, and wait for my instructions. When my letter arrives, you'll deliver them exactly where I say, without a single deviation. Understood? Or face the consequences!"
With that, Dudley grabbed Harry and hopped onto another intact cart summoned by the goblins. With a flick of his wand, they sped away.
"Do as he says," Dumbledore instructed the goblins before taking Hagrid's arm and Apparating away in a swirl of magic.
Once everyone was gone, the goblin manager stood in silence for a moment before bellowing at his subordinates, "What are you all standing around for? Start casting Reparo! And strengthen the Anti-Apparition wards! I don't want to see anyone coming and going from our vaults as they please ever again!"