Disclaimer: Everything you recognize belongs to JK Rowling.
From the last chapter...
"Scrabbleknife?" Harry guessed, thinking quickly. Perhaps he could offer the goblins a deal in exchange for their safe passage. Goblins couldn't live in the bank after all, and they'd never depend on the Ministry of Magic for their transportation.
He hoped so, anyway.
Chapter 25
"The sun hasn't cooked your brains entirely," grunted Scrabbleknife, raising his eyebrows with mock surprise. He took a step back.
Harry twisted his lips wryly. Snape and Scrabbleknife would get along swimmingly. "When we last met," Harry said, ignoring the goblin's slur on his intelligence, "I tried to let the goblin nation know, through you, about muggle society's collapse."
"Only an unobservant wizard would need informing," the goblin said, lips twitching as if he enjoyed insulting Harry.
Harry sat on his temper, years of practice with Snape's insults coming to the fore. "I want to trade safe passage for our party for a piece of information vital to Gringotts and your people."
Harry drew himself up to his full height, crossed his arms, and attempted to look foreboding. You probably just look constipated. He mentally stomped on that voice of doubt. Goblins could smell fear and doubt, and would circle in for the kill like a shark scenting blood in the water.
Nagurk stepped around the desk, standing shoulder to shoulder with Scrabbleknife. "I alone in this room have authority to grant that request."
Harry's heart leaped inside him. They had a chance.
"But," the higher ranking goblin continued, "Unless I know your information, I can't place a value on it."
Uncertain, Harry looked behind him. Bill nodded for him to continue. Once Harry had begun negotiations, he had to finish them. That was one thing he'd remembered from Binn's interminable history lessons. But Harry could see worry deepening the creases on Arthur's forehead. If Harry gambled and lost, some of them wouldn't make it home. Not with the goblins ready to hand them over to the ministry, and not with Voldemort on the front steps of the bank persuading the wizarding populace to make him minister.
Harry took a deep breath and turned around. "Do goblins prefer to run Gringotts with, or without, the Ministry of Magic's interference and oversight?"
The two goblins' eyes narrowed simultaneously. The last goblin uprising had been narrowly averted by returning control of Gringotts back to the goblins back in the mid-1800s. The wizarding world had enjoyed continued economic stability as a result, since goblins had no desire to pander to fickle human social causes. They sought stability and the profits derived thereby above all else. "The ministry wouldn't be so foolish," Nagurk growled.
"The current ministry," Harry corrected. He stomped on a desire to say more. In this case, more was less. Anything the goblins imagined would be worse than what he could imply without giving the secret away entirely.
"Alrick Armstrong," Nagurk waved a dismissive hand, lip curling with disdain. "His vault's nearly empty, and he comes from a wizarding family of no consequence. He will accomplish nothing if he gets elected."
The beauty of Voldemort's strategy stunned Harry into silence for a moment. By choosing, and probably killing, a nondescript wizard with substandard abilities, he would be accepted by ruling class families as a figurehead, while his charisma would weave a seductive web of lies for the common people. Even the goblins underestimated him.
Until Voldemort exerted his power through force. But by then, it would be too late.
"And that's where my information differs from yours," Harry countered. "I offer you information that will give goblins a chance – just a chance – to avoid subjugation."
Scrabbleknife's hand darted to the sharp, curved dagger hanging in an ornate sheath on his belt. "Subjugate goblins? Never again." His nostrils flared as he took one step forward.
Nagurk blocked his underling."Will humans make war on the only magical race with food?" Nagurk asked, calm reason threading his voice.
Harry paused. He was sure Voldemort would try to conquer all magical races. But saying so would give the game away. "Why should humans trust goblins to feed them? Would you trust humans if we had the only food?"
"No goblin would neglect his food supply," Nagurk replied, generations of disdain for magical humans apparent in the sneer twisting his mouth. He turned away from his guests and examined the chain mail on the wall behind his desk.
Harry bit his tongue as the minutes stretched out. An alliance with goblins, even a temporary one, was fraught with the danger of betrayal. Nagurk had to decide on his own if it was worth his while to free Harry and his company.
Nagurk turned around and let out a guttural growl, a thumped fist on the desk sending the still exposed needles bristling. "Agreed."
Harry let out his breath with a loud a whoosh and wiped damp hands on his robe. Bargaining for his friends' lives was one experience he didn't want to repeat.
Bill stepped forward, slipping between Arthur and Neville to stand by Harry. Augusta Longbottom shifted back toward Madame Malkin with a soft harrumph as she allowed Bill to take her place.
"Fleur, my fiance, will join us." Bill stated, his jaw jutting forward like a bulldog's.
"Yes, yes. Scrabbleknife, see to it." Nagurk said. "Give the girl a...plausible pretext for entering my office with all of her and the young Mr. Weasley's belongings."
Scrabbleknife's eyes gleamed with malicious humor before he turned on his heel and stalked out of the office.
Harry studiously avoided the eyes of his friends. Perhaps they'd had a better idea and he'd stuck his foot in it. Doubts tripped through his mind, tangling with each other till his thoughts were a blur with everything that could still go wrong.
"I 'ave stolen nothing. Nor 'as Bill!" Fleur's voice resonated down the hallway and through the office door. "If zis is 'ow you treat your employees..." Her voice trailed off as she entered the already cramped office. She carried two plain brown briefcases. The way her hands clenched the handles told Harry they carried items more valuable than office files.
"Follow me" Without pausing to allow for an explanation, Nagurk turned on his heel and walked through the section of wall behind his desk covered by chain mail and deadly weapons.
Harry examined the wall and tried to apply Moody's adage of constant vigilance. Knowing the goblins, they might have sharp objects to impale intruders on the opposite wall. Visions of goblins feeding his dead body to their guardian dragons paraded across his mind's eye. He'd best proceed with caution. He'd take one step and then reassess his surroundings.
"Get moving." Scrabbleknife shut the door to the office. "You don't have all day."
Harry looked at Arthur and Bill, who both nodded at him with solemn, unsmiling faces. He slipped around the side of the desk, careful to avoid the poisonous needles, and strode through the wall.
Smack! Harry ran face first into a rough brick wall before his eyes adjusted to the gloominess of the barely lit passageway. He'd been expecting a narrow walkway, not one that he had to shuffle sideways in. He ran his fingers across his face and squinted at them in the flickering torchlight. No dark, wet blood.
Smoke hung heavy in the air, stinging his nostrils as he inhaled sharply. He turned right and hurried off after Nagurk with an awkward, sideways shuffle. He passed intersection after intersection, staircase after staircase. No wonder the offices were so small. They were honeycombed with hidden passageways!
What an excellent way to defend the bank. No one would lean against a wall covered with sharp weapons, and the goblins could quickly retreat if they came under attack.
He glanced backwards and saw his friends following after him. He guessed that the floating torch behind Augusta Longbottom was held by Scrabbleknife bringing up the rear. He couldn't imagine goblins allowing one of their party to peel off and explore their defensive fallbacks.
After traversing multiple halls and steep staircases, Nagurk came to a halt next to a cart on gleaming tracks in much better shape than the ones Harry had used before. He wondered exactly how much upkeep they put into the roller coaster-like tracks the bank customers used. He pictured the bank as a minor, inconvenient side business that goblins put a minimal amount of effort into. He gritted his teeth. Missing humans falling prey to a collapsing track might be explained away as thieves. All humans were thieves to them, he suspected.
Harry clamped his hands onto the edge of the cart, determined to enjoy himself despite their precarious situation. Although there was standing room only, no one seemed anxious to wait for the next cart.
The goblins' taciturn silence spread. No one wanted to ruin their tenuous treaty. The cart slowly gathered speed before plunging into a steep curve. The air around Harry grew cooler and then gradually warmer. As sweat trickled down the side of his face, he loosened the collar of his shirt with one hand. He had a vague memory from years ago of trapped miners on the telly suffering in sweltering heat because they were so deep in the earth. The ministry would never find them.
Just as Harry wished for a cool glass of water, the cart leveled out and shot forward with greater speed. He tried to gauge their speed by the passing shadows in the cave, but they had long ago passed the last of the wizard vaults. No torches lit the way here, and only magic kept the two goblin's torches burning.
After long, interminable minutes, the cart began its ascent. Harry repressed a sigh of relief. The cart slowed to a halt, and he shifted from one foot to the other to help the blood flow back into his feet.
"Before you go any further, you will of course have to sign a contract of non-disclosure." Nagurk said, whipping a self-inking quill and a sheaf of papers out of his topcoat.
"What are we not disclosing?" Arthur asked, examining the tiny print on his contract.
"Everything you've seen from the my office to when you see sunlight again." Nagurk replied, not trace of a smile on his face. "No human beside Albus Dumbledore has seen what you will and lived afterward."
"What are the penalties for non-compliance?" Bill asked.
"Your insides will liquify. It won't cause death immediately, of course, but I hear it can be...unpleasant." Nagurk seemed cheered by the idea.
"A-a-and if we d-d-don't sign it?" Neville asked, the contract shaking in his hand.
Nagurk spread his arms wide. "You will to stay here. No food or water will be provided."
Harry looked around. A dark ravine plunged down on his left side while a narrow ledge jutted out from a smooth cliff face on his right. "Bill?" Harry asked.
Bill flipped the paper over and examined the blank side for tiny, minute writing. "We'll sign, if you take out the fine print requiring the transfer of our vaults over to the goblin nation."
Madam Malkin, silent up to this point, gasped. "Despicable!"
Nagurk's lips spread wide over sharp, yellow teeth. "You'd be surprised at how many humans don't read their contracts."
Bill meticulously crossed out the offending line in each contract. Harry signed his with a flourish. This was one secret he was taking to the grave, one way or another.
Gawain Robards paced back and forth on the top step of Gringotts, alone. He'd sent the other aurors to surround the bank. He studiously ignored the upstart Armstrong. Less than half an hour had passed since the he had demanded the custody of Harry Potter and his group, with no response. Everyone knew the front doors and windows of Gringotts were the only way out – that was what made the bank secure and defensible - and easily besieged.
He wasn't sure the portkey had landed them in Gringotts, but the portkey password, Ragnok, had been telling. For all he knew, Harry Potter was in there right now inciting a goblin rebellion. Perhaps Rufus had been right to spend the aurors' resources recklessly to bring a teenage boy into custody.
Wizard after witch streamed out the front doors, most with a box or bag under their arm. Goblins firing all human employees did not bode well for their economy. Gringotts was the second largest employer after the ministry itself.
The dim prospect of high unemployment combined with food scarcity consumed his thoughts. He'd had aspirations for minister – what head auror hadn't? But he wasn't sure he wanted it. Not now.
The crowd's chanting caught his attention. "Harry Potter! Harry Potter!"
Was Armstrong casting a mere boy as their savior? He shook his head at the absurdity and continued pacing. Trained aurors were required for that job.
"You-Know-Who will kill the boy at any cost!" Armstrong shouted, his voice a touch hoarse after speaking so long to the crowd. "That insane wizard did this to our society to starve one boy who refused to die!" He spread his arms wide as if to take in the whole of wizarding Britain.
"Whose fault is it you don't have food?"
"Harry Potter! Harry Potter!"
Gawain blinked and examined Alrick Armstrong again. Could this new upstart have cast a befuddlement charm on the entire crowd?
To be continued...