Afterward, he went straight out of the room and headed towards the hospital rooms he had inquired about. Carrying a fruit basket, he looked like he was visiting patients, and being a young man, no one suspected anything. He first arrived at the door of a room similar to an intensive care unit, peered inside, and saw the green-robed healing wizards moving back and forth, holding notebooks and writing, presumably recording the patients' conditions. Others were waving their wands, perhaps in the midst of treatment.
"I'm afraid I can't help," Malfoy thought, only able to glance inside, mourning the innocent goblin caught up in this mess. "I will avenge you." He thought, even though he himself was the culprit of this farce if he really wanted to seek revenge.
Then, he walked towards the end of the corridor. From the rooms he passed, he could occasionally hear painful howls and groans. He stopped at the last room, gently knocked a few times, and then forcefully pushed open the half-closed door.
"Long time no see, Mr. Griphook," Malfoy said with a smile, looking at the goblin lying on the bed. Coincidentally, he wasn't asleep, otherwise, Malfoy wouldn't have minded using some "special" methods to wake him up.
Griphook, who was lying on the bed, was focused on reading a blue leather, black-covered book. Malfoy glanced at it and noticed that the title in the center of the cover was written in a bold and flowing script, but in a language he didn't recognize. He guessed it was written in a goblin-specific script.
Griphook, engrossed in the sea of books, was startled by the greeting. He abruptly raised his large head, his dark eyes meeting Malfoy's.
"What are you doing here?" Griphook said anxiously, his eyes filled with both anticipation and fear. "Aren't you afraid the people from Gringotts will suspect us?" Griphook tried to make his voice sound serious and tense.
These days, although he appeared to be a heroic figure acting righteously, the torment in his heart was only known to himself. In order to complete the task for the boy in front of him, he had essentially betrayed Gringotts and almost killed his colleague. The colleague he saved out of guilt had even earned him a good reputation.
Griphook's dreams these days were all the same: the Aurors sent by the Ministry of Magic arrested him, using Legilimency and Veritaserum to interrogate him relentlessly, and then he confessed everything. He didn't know what would happen to Malfoy in the end, but in his dreams, he had already been thrown into that dark, damp, isolated island prison where he would never feel joy or happiness—Azkaban.
He felt a trace of regret.
The fear he had imagined had tormented him to the point of becoming somewhat neurotic. His only choice was to seek solace. Confined to his hospital bed, he could only temporarily forget his current troubles with goblin books.
"Ragnuk the First's Autobiography"—this was Griphook's way of numbing himself. He hoped to once again appreciate the heroic demeanor of their goblin clan through the book, a legendary goblin who was both a master craftsman and whose magical attainments were no less than any wizard.
The more significant Ragnuk's achievements and accomplishments were, the more he could convince himself that the wrongdoings he had committed were sacrifices for the honor of their goblin race.
Then, when he had hypnotized himself to a certain extent, he realized that he had foolishly done things without getting paid, and he couldn't help but resent Malfoy, fearing that he would go back on his word.
But when Malfoy actually stood in front of him again, he suddenly became speechless.
The fear of the truth being discovered once again took over.
Whether it was Muggles, wizards, or goblins, their behavior after committing crimes was worthy of in-depth study. Some people were cautious, walking on thin ice, living in constant anxiety, while others prided themselves on their flawless methods, able to escape the sanctions of the law. But in any case, the human heart is complex, and so are goblins. After Malfoy said a few words, the flame of greed in his eyes suddenly flared up again.
Malfoy said, "Our meeting this time is at the behest of the bank manager. He requires you to keep this matter a secret, and then you will get what you deserve."
"Otherwise, I shouldn't have been able to get in just now. You should also know that you are actually under house arrest to prevent you from talking nonsense outside."
Griphook's expression changed unpredictably upon hearing this.
"The bank manager's hush money is his hush money. Next is to fulfill the agreement between us," Malfoy said, gazing at Griphook with his gray eyes. Griphook couldn't help but feel a chill down his spine, as if he were being watched by a lurking beast, but after hearing the words 'fulfill the agreement,' a lively expression appeared on his face again.
"Where is the sword?" Griphook could no longer suppress his emotions and asked Malfoy for the reward he "deserved." His large eyes rolled around, sizing up Malfoy.
"Of course, the Malfoy family is the most trustworthy," Malfoy nodded, then added two words in his heart: "Not really."
"Where is the sword?" Griphook's expression suddenly became somewhat ferocious. Apart from that unremarkable fruit basket, there was nothing around him that could hold that long sword. This cunning little liar might be deceiving him!
"My dear friend, you seem to have forgotten the Undetectable Extension Charm," Malfoy said with some amusement, glancing at Griphook, then said in a soothing tone.
Then, Malfoy slowly drew out the sword symbolizing Gryffindor's courage from it. The sword hidden in the pile of fruit was gradually revealed until it was completely exposed in the sight of the two. The sword appeared exceptionally dazzling in the dim light of the ward. The shimmering silver light was like the most deadly and alluring drug for the goblin, who was inherently obsessed with forging.
Griphook immediately snatched the sword. This time, Malfoy did not stop him. He put the sword in his arms, stroking it gently as if he were treating his lover, his eyes filled with intoxication. The large ruby on the hilt and the various strange patterns on the side made him linger, unable to extricate himself.
The goblin master craftsman's skill widened his eyes, and his superb technique made him yearn for it.
He had already paid too great a price for this, and now it was time for him to be rewarded.
"But, Mr. Griphook, I feel it necessary to remind you of something," Malfoy offered his "friendly" advice.
"No need to say it, I know. You certainly didn't get this sword through legitimate channels. I will be very careful and hide it well, so no one will find it." Griphook did not notice the abnormality in Malfoy's tone.
"No, no, no, that's not what I wanted to say." Malfoy shook his head almost imperceptibly, but Griphook's whole mind was focused on the sword, and he only subconsciously asked, "Then what is it?"
Now that he had the sword in his hands, he didn't realize that this might just be a bait to distract him.
"From a narrative standpoint, I'm a villain," Malfoy said quietly. As soon as he finished speaking, his wand was already aimed at the intoxicated goblin.
"Obliviate!"
Griphook, who had been sitting on the bed, was struck head-on by a white light that resembled a shooting star. Then, with a hint of disbelief and deep unwillingness in his eyes, he fell straight back. His not-so-large palm still tightly grasped the precious sword that he had worked so hard to "possess."
"Relashio!" Malfoy waved his wand again. He didn't want to have to pry open the goblin's fingers one by one.
Clearly, someone went back on their word.
Goblins don't call sales 'sales,' they call them leases.
Then let the term of this lease be extended indefinitely.
By destroying Helga Hufflepuff's cup and keeping Godric Gryffindor's sword safe, acting as a sort of contractor who's behind on paying his workers, Malfoy had completed a small part of his plan.
"Actually, coveting things that shouldn't belong to you can lead to trouble," Malfoy shook his head as he looked at the sleeping Griphook. This was actually saving his life. If he had followed the original trajectory, he would have been hit by Voldemort's Avada Kedavra curse not long after acquiring the sword.
He just didn't know what kind of sparks this goblin would create with a dying person.
What Griphook didn't realize was that from the moment they first met, he had been gradually falling into the trap woven by Malfoy. This trap, which was not particularly ingenious and could even be said to be crude, was unexpectedly effective.
That was the power of "greed." As long as people lost their composure, they would believe any lie or promise, no matter how full of loopholes, without any reason.
Perhaps it also included someone's subtle psychological suggestion and enchantment magic.
Psychological suggestion does not belong to the category of magic, and enchantment magic only evokes people's various emotions. Therefore, Griphook would still not feel anything unusual when passing through the Thief's Downfall.
Regardless of the temptation and guidance, the decision was still made by him himself. This was fundamentally different from the Imperius Curse.
In St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, the noisy places were still noisy. Cries, groans, and screams could be heard in many places, while the soundproof wards that needed to be quiet were silent. Even a silver needle dropping could be heard. The healers were still dutifully completing their tasks, and a doctor named Augustus was still being reprimanded by his superior. Everything seemed normal, and no one noticed that a goblin patient on the fifth floor had his memory altered.
"Lockhart! How dare you trick a goblin?" Griphook had not been unconscious for long. After all, this was not a Sleeping Curse. The first thing he said when he woke up was to curse through gritted teeth.
After all, goblins' physiology is different from humans. Perhaps even magic cannot fully take effect due to his obsession with this sword? So Malfoy assigned him a very good target for venting.
Prevention is better than cure, and diverting disaster is the safest way.
The poor, incompetent professor didn't know that he suddenly had an extra trouble on his hands.
"Hmm? What's this?" A female wizard in green robes walked past a ward and suddenly felt something trip her feet. Her position was perhaps similar to that of a nurse in a Muggle hospital, because the pattern on the green robe was slightly different from that of other doctors, being lighter and simpler.
In fact, that was the case. She only assisted in some patients' daily care and recuperation, and her mastery of some mental magic to soothe manic patients allowed her to successfully stay at this hospital.
The almost tripped woman frowned slightly, but then relaxed. A beautifully packaged high-end fruit basket was lying quietly outside the ward door. This should be the "culprit."
"Which family member visits a patient without going in person? Aren't they afraid it will be stolen by someone else?" She was a little puzzled, because the fruit basket looked expensive, and the various fruits inside were giving off a sweet smell. There were all kinds of people in the hospital, and it was reasonable to expect someone to make off with it.
A note suddenly appeared in front of her, with only a few words written on it, forming a sentence, without leaving a name. She whispered the sentence: "May our hero recover soon. And leave the nightmare behind."
The green-robed woman looked up at the ward number, "Room 49."
This was also the ward she had just taken over today. She forgot the first name of the person in this ward, but she vaguely remembered the last name.
"Longbottom." The woman patted her head, remembering the patient's last name on the medical record. "Is the patient in this ward still a hero?" she thought to herself, and then decided to treat the patient with more care.
St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries under the night sky, everything as usual.
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