Patrick Bateman and the Revenge of the Goblins
I do not own any of this. All characters belong to B.E. Ellis and J.K. Rowling respectively.
Malfoy Manor
"Okay my little Deathies", Voldemort said "As you may know, we are trying to take over the wizarding society of Great Britain, but it turns out, that this is a more expensive endeavour than anticipated." He paused to look around at his loyal Death Eaters, who were assembled at the colossal dinner table of Malfoy Manor, their current headquarter. "Of course all of you have been of great help so far, but it would be even better if we could find a way to finance it all, while simultaneously not burdening ourselves financially so much, or even better hurt our enemies. So anybody got any ideas?"
He again looked at all of them one by one, but no one dared to tell him any ideas, because if they would have had any good ones, they would have told him long ago to receive his praise.
"Maybe we…" Augustus Rockwood started, but immediately stopped after everyone suddenly looked at him. "Umm…" He paused again.
"Yes", Voldemort said, gesturing him to keep talking. "Go on."
"Well a while ago, back when I was still working in the ministry, some of my colleagues started discussing this idea…Basically, they noticed that when you exchange muggle money for gallons, the gold you get is worth more than the gallons themselves, so you could melt them, sell the gold to muggles and then…uh… exchange that money again. But you'd have more this time around, because you make a profit selling the gold, so yeah…" He looked down, waiting for the judgment of this idea, already kind of regretting having said anything in the first place.
Everybody looked at him with confusion. "Hmm…", the Dark Lord said. "Hmm…", again. He paused, thinking. "That doesn't actually seem like a bad idea. We should do that."
"Rockwood, get started on that! Jugson, you help him!" Both of them nodded affirmatively.
"I recently captured this Mudblood, and her husband, a Muggle banker. We will make him help us with the muggle side of the plan," Jugson whispered to Rockwood.
"Discuss the particulars later." Voldemort interrupted them. "Now on to the next item of the agenda. Has anyone seen Potter lately?"
White Wyvern
I check my hair in the mirror of the taxi. Of course it is styled perfectly, but one could never be sure enough. I am driving to a restaurant to meet a new client of Pierce & Pierce, in fucking England. My boss had called me two days ago, that this British guy had opened an account at the London subsidiary, and requested to personally speak to an international contact, because he wanted to expand his business or some shit. Normally no one would have cared, since the amount of money was small compared to our important clients, but he seems to have connections to some higher-up. And someone thought that I would be a good person to handle that all, and now I have to go to Britain, to all those faggots. I hope I'll at least find some blonde hardbodies to cut up between all those gingers.
The taxi reached the street that my London colleague had told me over the phone, in which the client had told him the restaurant was, a so called "The White Wyvern". I had been slightly nervous back then, since seemingly this restaurant wasn't important enough that he would expect me to find it easily by name, but maybe he had just wanted to be considerate of his international business partners. When Jean had not been able to find any notion whatsoever of this place anywhere, even after digging through a whole bunch of London restaurant guides and asking people that where in Britain often, I had had a full on anxiety attack. It could be some kind of weird little pub, and I really didn't want to eat any British, unhealthy food.
I exited the cab and paid the driver. Now I was standing in a shopping street in the middle of London, but there was no "White Wyvern" in sight. My anxiety slowly returns, so I take out a Xanax and down it with a Diet Pepsi I had with me. I look around a couple more times to triple check, that I am in the right street, but there is still no "White Wyvern" anywhere.
"Are you the banker from Pierce & Pierce?" a voice behind me asks.
"Yes," I say as I turn around, but as soon as I see the two men I freeze. They aren't wearing suits. They aren't wearing any kind of formal wear I have seen so far. Instead they are clad in dark, long garments, some kind of robes maybe. The fabric seems to be of good quality and the seams too, whatever these costumes are and why ever they may be wearing them, they put some money into them. Passer-by's are staring at us, this doesn't seem to be regular style here. No, they are just fucking weirdos.
"Good. Let's get to our meeting place then." One of the men says. He is taller and has darker hair than his companion. He grabs my arm and suddenly we are not in the street anymore but standing in a different, darker alley.
"What the fuck just happened?" I try to yell, but I am out of breath and it takes a lot of focus to not vomit, so I just kind of whisper.
"We apparated, muggle." This does not clarify anything, but before I can ask again, he continues, while gesturing towards the building in front of us: "Let's go inside now."
It is a pub, according to a sign on it, the elusive "White Wyvern". Great, it really is a weird, little pub. Not that I would've eaten anything anyway, I am still feeling sick from our sudden change of place. Thinking about that my nervousness returns with full force and even greater confusion mixed in, so I take an additional Xanax.
We enter the restaurant now, and it seems like a regular pub, however the costumers in it are also wearing robes like my business partners. We sit down at a booth in the back of the room, and without small talk or ordering drinks first, one of the men, he has a little longer hair and I notice that they haven't even introduced themselves so far, puts a stack of papers on the table.
"Let's get down to business." He says and flips over the first page.
Clients Estate
"A Toast on a plan well executed! Rockwood, Jugson, you have done good work and already earned a substantial amount of money for our cause with just the first iteration of your plan! I am certain the Dark Lord will reward you when he returns from his trip. Cheers!" A man with long blonde hair, ended while raising his glass of red wine. He seemed to be some kind of leader among them.
"Cheers" The rest of the Death Eaters answered. "I just don't understand why the Muggle is here as well," a woman with dark curly hair asks, sounding somewhat displeased with my presence. From what I gathered so far "Muggle" seems to denote Non- wizards, and they call themselves wizards. And from what I've seen so far they actually are, but maybe the drugs have really gotten to my brain now.
"Because, Bellatrix, he not just helped us carry out our original plan, but further improved it by using part of the money we earn for investments in other things, so we can further fund our organization. Muggle banks apparently do this stuff, they don't just keep your money in safes," Jugson answered.
"Whatever, I still don't think he should be here," the woman said and turned around to the man sitting next to her to start a conversation. I sit there sipping the not-so-great wine I had been offered, while I watch a couple of dust particles slowly falling through the air. No wonder in such an old house. I hear a little thud and a couple more pieces of dust rain from the ceiling. I look up and with a sudden noise the ceiling cracks open and a little creature falls from there right on the table while yelling at the top of its lungs and stabs the guy sitting on my right with a short sword it is holding in its long, spindly fingers and someone shouts: "Goblins!", someone else "Abrakadabra!" or something similar and I duck below the table and take out my serrated knife from my pocket.
More of these creatures have jumped from the ceiling and some also broke in through the windows. They are armed with mainly medieval weaponry, but seem to be capable of some kind of magic too, because sometimes the people on my clients' side appear to be suffer from non-direct attacks as well as hits by the weapons.
The human combatants are all holding sticks, I assume wands, in their hands, swinging them wildly, yelling different words and shooting beams of light. I see a goblin get hit by a green one and he falls to the ground immediately.
A goblin runs along the table to attack a guy standing a little to my left, but I stab him in the side when he runs by. He falls down and I stab him again, this time in his eye and turn the knife. I slash his throat, causing his blood to splash onto the robes of the man I just saved, but red on black is hardly visible. I lament that I don't have more time to occupy myself with his corpse, I would have liked to cut him open to see how his innards differ from humans, but I decide that I don't have time for that now, seeing as there is a magical battle taking place around me.
To avoid getting in the crossfire I settle for staying beneath the table. Crouched down I head over to the other side, where a goblin is fighting with his back to me. There is no need to be quiet, because all around me lights are exploding against the walls, people are yelling curses or screaming in pain.
I turn the knife in my hand to have better grip on it for stabbing the goblin in front of me from behind, but get interrupted by a sharp pain in my own back. I turn my head and see that a goblin had sneaked up on me and stabbed me, his elaborately crafted sword is still stuck in me until the hilt. My head falls down and I see the tip of his sword retracting into my chest again as he pulls the blade out of my torso again. I fall forward into the warm puddle of my own blood that has already started to form.
The goblin kicks against my side but fails to turn me over. All my muscles make me fairly heavy, so he has to actually use both his arms to turn my body around. "This is what you get, you arrogant bastard," the creature hisses. "This is what you get for not respecting goblins. You tried to trick us. You tried to betray us. But we aren't stupid." He spits on me before continuing. "This is our vengeance. You repay us in blood."
I am still holding my knife and try to lift my arm to stab him, but it doesn't move an inch. My vision is getting narrower and I frantically try to think of something grand to say as my last words, but in my head everything is blank. Blood gets in my windpipe and I cough violently, splattering it over the goblin and myself, but it doesn't matter because we are both covered in my blood already. The pain in my chest starts to feel further away and my vision goes dark, but my eyes are still open. I think about how I wanted to watch "The Patty Winters Show" when I get back, and then I stop thinking forever.
Tent
"…are currently being treated in to recover from the goblin attack on Malfoy manor, seemingly a revenge act for wizards melting down money, for so far unknown reasons. Royal, what do you think the next steps of the ministry will be?"
"Well River, I think once they have recuperated from the shock they will-", Static.
"What? Dammit!" Ron says and starts trying to retune the radio to get the signal back.
Hermione just slowly shakes her head in disbelief. "Idiots, they are all bloody idiots, who didn't pay attention in History of Magic. Wizards trying to meddle with money. What did they think caused the 1612 goblin rebellion?"
"Really?" Harry said. "Huh, I didn't know that either, but anyway it's good for us, right? This could weaken the Death Eaters, maybe get them off track, maybe just buy us more time to find horcruxes; and some fairly high up ones died, this is definitely a setback for them."
"You're probably right," Hermione said, "I just hope this won't lead to another war against Goblins, one civil war at a time is enough if you ask me."
"Ha!" Ron said triumphantly, as the radio stopped playing static and the broadcast resumed.
"… next password will be 'Wulfric'. Keep each other safe. Keep faith. Good Night."