Beneath Gringotts stretched a vast hollow, so immense it made one worry for the safety of Diagon Alley and Knockturn Alley above.
No—judging by its sheer size, Leonard even found himself concerned about London's underground railway.
Just like the crooked buildings of Diagon Alley, the tunnels beneath Gringotts defied all rules of structural support. Newton had no authority here—only his brother, Sheer Luck.
Led by a goblin, Leonard and Midgard boarded a cart on rails. With a flicker of magic, it shot forward, spiraling down into the depths.
"Hold tight. We've still got some way to go," the goblin said as he steered. "These vaults were built in the past few centuries. As you guessed, the defenses here are strong—but the lower we go, the tighter the security."
Leonard looked around with curiosity, eyeing the impossible rock formations and vaults clinging to them. From time to time, other carts rumbled past, carrying wizards under goblin escort.
"Hold your breath!" the goblin suddenly barked.
Leonard gave him a puzzled look—then a thunderous roar filled his ears and a fine mist hit his face.
Ahead, a waterfall plunged straight onto the tracks.
Leonard quickly drew in a breath as the cart sped through the torrent.
When they emerged, he realized not a single drop had soaked his clothes.
The water seemed weightless. It carried a sense of dampness, but left no trace.
Only the Ancient Sprout beneath Leonard's robes stirred, poking out its head and swaying its leaves with pleasure, as if enjoying the cascade.
"That's the Thief's Downfall," the goblin explained, keen to emphasize the point. "It washes away every spell. Only the lower vaults are reached by passing through it."
"Gringotts is the safest bank in the world. Storing your Galleons here guarantees absolute security. No one can break in."
In other words: "Your money's well spent."
Leonard simply gave a composed nod.
As the cart carried them deeper, the light dimmed until at last they reached a cluster of vaults. The track veered, and the cart slowed to a halt.
"Here we are. Vault Twelve," the goblin announced, hopping down.
Leonard and Midgard followed, scanning the surroundings.
Plenty of guards were stationed here, goblins standing at vantage points with the entire vault area in sight.
This was far enough.
Leonard gave Midgard a look.
She understood at once, quietly crushing the glass bead hidden in her pocket.
At Gringotts' rear entrance, Marcus was waiting, eyes fixed on his palm while he kept glancing up at his surroundings.
In his right hand he gripped a small alchemical device, staring at it as though expecting a signal.
Suddenly, the device cracked. Marcus's eyes sharpened, and he rose to his feet.
Time to begin.
Making sure no one was watching, Marcus drew his wand and slashed it toward the rear entrance.
Boom!
A fireball blew apart the door in a thunderous blast that instantly triggered Gringotts' alarms and sent the crowds of Diagon Alley into a frenzy.
Smoke and dust billowed, but Marcus didn't hesitate. He vanished into the panicked crowd.
His part of the plan was done.
Terrified by the sudden explosion, a goblin straightened his hat and hurriedly fired a magical signal into the air.
Aurors patrolling nearby rushed in, encircling the bank. Inside, the alarm rippled from level to level until it echoed through every chamber of Gringotts.
At that same moment, Quirrell, creeping toward the Hogwarts Vault below, shivered as the presence coiled around his neck suddenly tightened.
"M-Master?" Quirrell asked in panic. "What's wrong?"
The snake slithered out from Quirrell's collar, its venomous eyes sweeping the surroundings. "I have a bad feeling."
"A bad feeling?" Quirrell frowned. "Did something happen?"
They were already deep underground and hadn't heard the explosion at Gringotts' rear entrance.
"I don't know. But we must hurry," Voldemort hissed before withdrawing again.
His strange behavior unsettled Quirrell. He quickly urged the goblin leading the way. "Faster! Take us to the Vault at once!"
"Yes." The goblin nodded, just about to quicken his pace when a massive shadow swept across overhead.
Quirrell jerked his head up—and froze. A chained Dragon circled above them.
"Unregistered intruders detected!" shouted a goblin rider on the Dragon's back when he spotted Quirrell below.
He yanked hard on the spiked bridle, and the Dragon let out a thunderous roar. Flames gathered in its throat before it spewed a blazing torrent straight at Quirrell.
The searing light illuminated Quirrell's terrified face...
...
Meanwhile, deep within Gringotts' underground vaults.
News of the attack had already reached the stationed goblins through special channels.
Those in guard uniforms immediately sprang into action, scrambling for the carts to rush upward.
"What's going on?" Leonard asked deliberately as he watched them leave.
The goblin before him forced a strained smile. "Just a minor disturbance. Nothing to be concerned about."
He couldn't very well admit that Gringotts—the bank he had just sworn was absolutely secure—had been breached.
That smile was painful to look at.
The so-called "goblin" wasn't some winged fairy but the sharp-featured, long-nosed kind from old folklore. Imagining such a face pulling a fake grin was enough to scare children into silence at night.
Luckily, Leonard wasn't a child, or he might have wailed himself.
"Is that so?" Leonard glanced at Midgard.
She gave a small nod, slipping behind the goblin and raising her wand.
"Imperio."
A faint murmur sounded as a wisp of pale smoke rose from the goblin's head and sank into Midgard's wand.
"It's done. He's under control," Midgard said as she lowered her wand. "What now?"
"Now we pick a target." Leonard took the ledger from the goblin's hands and scanned through the list.
...
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