Gringotts had a long history. Built on the goblins' innate greed, the bank possessed a tenacity that had carried it through the centuries.
Over nearly a thousand years of change in the wizarding world, countless families had risen, only to fall again. Families bound by blood could vanish through death or disaster, but the nature of a race did not change.
Every goblin born with a sound mind carried from childhood an instinctive hunger for treasure. That craving kept them flocking to Gringotts, sustaining a bank where vast amounts of Galleons could be stored legitimately.
Every wizarding family held a vault at Gringotts. Vaults endured, but families did not. At times the vault remained, its contents still intact, while the family that owned it was gone.
In such cases, unless someone could provide clear proof of inheritance, the vault was left abandoned.
Of course, the goblins claimed they would never touch the Galleons in an abandoned vault—and in fairness, they truly didn't.
Their view of wealth was strange, more like the dragons in fantasy tales. They loved treasure, but only for the treasure itself, not for the value it represented.
In their eyes, everything crafted by goblins belonged to goblins, not to whoever had commissioned it. Galleons were no exception—the metal used to mint them was goblin-wrought magical gold. Therefore, all Galleons should, by right, belong to the goblins.
This belief, however, had been crushed under the fists of wizards. What remained was Gringotts: a bank to store Galleons, a compromise that still indulged the goblins' peculiar, trivial obsession.
Which meant the older the vault, the more likely it was abandoned. Letting piles of Galleons sit inside was a waste—better to seize them and put them to use.
Leonard sifted through the ledger for records of abandoned vaults nearby, while Midgard opened the suitcase and began pulling out Galleons.
After setting aside roughly six or seven hundred, she carried the case to the edge of the track and tipped it like a bin, spilling its contents into the endless chasm below.
Dozens of rocks, painted with golden pigment, tumbled down into the dark.
"Is it alright to just dump the stones here?" Midgard asked as she worked.
"No problem. The paint will fade on its own soon enough. Once they're just plain stones again, what does it matter if anyone finds them?" Leonard replied without looking up, eyes fixed on the ledger.
The suitcase had held very few real Galleons. Altogether, Leonard and the werewolves had scraped together just over six hundred. The rest were stones painted in special golden pigment.
With the lamp's glow and the real coins stacked on top, Leonard had played a neat trick on the goblin, making him believe the case contained a fortune.
Greed clouded the goblin's judgment, leaving him eager to grant Leonard access to the older vaults.
And among those ancient vaults, many would surely be abandoned—the true targets of Leonard's plan.
Outside, Marcus was to spark chaos, tricking the Gringotts goblins into thinking there had been a break-in, which would also flush out the unorthodox Quirrell.
Once everyone was distracted, the isolated goblin would be forced to bow under the Imperius Curse.
Now, with Leonard and Midgard standing here, it meant half the plan was already a success.
"Right." Midgard nodded, stowing the case without sparing a glance at the Galleons scattered across the floor. She moved to Leonard's side. "Got them picked out?"
"Yeah. Seventeen vaults in total." Leonard tossed the ledger back to the goblin and pointed at the numbers. "Take us there."
"Take us there," Midgard echoed—since the goblin, under her Imperius Curse, would only respond to her commands.
"Yes," the goblin replied, leading them toward the first vault.
At the door, he traced his finger across the surface. A series of crisp clicks echoed as the locks disengaged, and the heavy door creaked open.
Midgard peered inside eagerly, but when the vault was revealed, her expression fell.
No Galleons. Only stacks of dust-covered books.
"Next," Leonard ordered calmly, unfazed.
"Next one! Quickly!" Midgard urged.
The goblin shut the door at once and moved them along.
"Not every vault holds Galleons," Leonard reminded her, catching her look of disappointment. "We'll get there. No need to lose patience."
Truthfully, the sight intrigued him. If the goblin was right, these vaults were as old as Gringotts itself, and the books within might well be priceless, unique works.
But they had neither the time nor the means to take anything but Galleons.
Their case could only hold coins.
Second vault. Third vault...
Before long, they had checked five vaults, and without exception, none held a single Galleon.
Midgard's composure was cracking, and even Leonard began doubting their luck.
Was it really this bad?
Thankfully, the sixth vault finally brought relief. As the door opened, the lamplight caught on a dazzling golden glow that almost blinded them.
Inside lay heaps upon heaps of gold Galleons. Not a silver, not a bronze—only gold, stacked high like small mountains. Midgard's eyes flushed red at the sight.
"Quickly. Pack it up," Leonard said, glancing at his pocket watch.
It had taken them ten minutes to reach this point by cart, with seven of those spent traveling from the newer vaults down to Vault Twelve.
All the tracks ran the same way. Counting the round trip, even if the guards above came straight down to check, it would take them at least fourteen minutes.
That was all the time Leonard and Midgard needed to fill the case.
With magic speeding her along, Midgard swept the vault clean, piling all the coins into the case until it was only a third full.
"Keep going. Eight minutes left," Leonard pressed.
"Hurry! Faster!" Midgard shouted, giddy with excitement, her thrill impossible to contain.
And luck was with them. Every vault that followed held Galleons.
Some more, some less, but before long Midgard's case was stuffed full. Still, she wasn't satisfied—she wanted to slip a few more into her own pockets.