Disclaimer: I owe nothing apart from my AU and OC.

Chapter 27

Gringotts Bank, Diagon Alley
Late night, 30th January 1960

The minecart brought the group of five Goblins to the Tunnel That Drops Dead. All goblin employees of the Gringotts Bank were aware, anyone who ventured beyond that point was never heard or seen again, But only the Goblin Order knew it was just a precaution to keep out those reckless adventure-seeking minds.

The tunnel entrance had goblin runes etched over its two sides. A pair of goblins walked up to each sides and waited, each touching a set of runes with their index finger. The tallest of them, the current Bank Manager and the Head of the Goblin's Order, Olrags Prurbanks stood right in the middle of the entrance and touched the keystone of the archway. Together the five men muttered, "merkt með töfra okkar innsigluðum af blóði okkar - við sverjum hollustu við Rognad Vakta", seven times, under their breath.

As soon as the archway started shimmering, they stepped back. The pitch-black entrance slowly revealed a flight of spiral stairs. One by one they walked down, cautiously staring all around. The stairs led them to a circular room lit up by twenty-one sconces. Every inch of the space was painted in dazzling gold. But none of them could pay much notice to any of it. Every pair of eyes were locked to the large red motif moving on the golden floor. It belonged to a fiercely burning dragon, that was breathing steam through its flared nostrils. The stifling air was hot on their face.

The whole place shook on its own a couple of times, forcing the Goblins to press themselves against the wall. Still, out of his depths, Prurbanks ordered," No one speaks of this. No one says, what we saw today. First thing in the morning, we seal off the next two levels right above the Tunnel That Drops Dead."

Gripgott, the goblin with rimmed glasses whispered," Can we do that? Many of the pureblood families got their vaults in those tunnels. They will oppose…"

Graud, the one behind him opined, siding with Prurbanks," If we don't keep the wizards away, Gringotts security will be at stake. We can't let the world know, its not just us guarding the place..."

Flixfag, clenched his fob chain and nodded," The dragon breathes, something to worry about, or maybe, just maybe... I never heard anyone say anything about it."

Olexbit peered at the ancient walls and spoke out," Look at the walls, they are painted with molten gold. Goblin Order members for centuries never dared to set foot inside. Every generation renewed their vows at the gates of the Tunnel That Drops Dead. Never heard of any soul travel this far."

Turning abruptly, gasping out of breath, Prurbanks said," Let's go up, we have seen enough."

Graud argued," But these vibrations..."

Stepping forward, Prurbanks stood taller and replied," No one else but for the five of us, feel it. We can't risk the wizards or the press getting a wind of it! Can we? I vote for keeping it quiet, which one of you thinks otherwise?"

The other four nodded agreeing with the Manager at once.

Olrags Prurbanks was not an ordinary Goblin. Much like his half brother, Filius Flitwick, he was an ace duelist and revered among the goblin colonies. Even the wizards paled in front of him. Unlike his father, he was rather fond of his half-sibling. He didn't much care if Filius rejected the Golbin's Order's offer to reside in the British Goblin colony and be a part of it. He was rather glad he didn't. The brother always loved Hogwarts and he was quite happy to find a place of his own up there. Olrags took pride in thinking himself to be related to the most brilliant charms professor Hogwarts had ever produced. Standing there inside the golden room with twenty one sconces, he thought he missed Filius the most.

Watching the old drawing of a dragon subtly moving, the Manager recalled the old tales. Could that be possible? He shuddered by the mere thought of it.

Though the man was awfully quiet through the trip back to the lobby, he took time to see off the other four and hastily made his way back to his office. Grabbing a parchment he started penning a quick letter to his brother, "Rognad Vakta breathes. So the myth is not a myth, Brethren?"

He was about to add another line to it, but the arrival of a pygmy owl surprised him. Dropping a letter at his desk it flew away instantly. It was indeed quite late to receive owls. Furrowing his brows Olrags couldn't manage to recognize the crest. Held under the lampshade, it looked more like a bear face drawn inside a claw, gleaming much like flames of fire. There was just a single line in the letter. It said "Blar Reccr sighs, justice awaiting to be delivered."

Frowning harder, he studied the crest once again, and reread the line. Waving his hand over the parchment he tried to feel the lingering presence of the spells. Finally, unable to make any head or tail of the whole thing, he put the letter along with the one he wrote. This time adding another line to it, " See you at dinner over the weekends," he called for his personal owl, Rignot. Standing next to the open window, he watched the bird fly off over the tall chimneys of the Diagon Alley houses and shivered. The vibrations were sporadic, but Olrags was more unsettled, "Why on earth am I thinking of the Isroza Herders instead of the Romanian Dragon Reserve Keepers?"

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and wizardry
House-elves Quarters
Scotland

An house-elf popped in front of Dinty, the Hogwarts house-elf matriarch. Greeting her with a bow she said, "Those that serve magic old rejoice, for Uaine téitheoir caresses the ailing once again."

Dinty smirked and greeted her sister. Inviting her over to join her beside the burning hearth, she whispered," Hear that, Rintz. I guess, now you know why, Uaine caresses. I heard, Blar Recr sighs, and even the Rognad breathes. The Oldest Spirits are waking up."

Taking up the offered tumbler of firewhiskey, Rintz was excited to hear the humming of the ancient castle. She asked at once," Has Dinty seen the King herself?"

Dinty rolled her eyes and reminded house-elf dressed in a green and white pillowcase," The old tales talk of the children of Dark and Light...Dinty wonders so do the goblin professor."

Rintz nodded in understanding and sat quietly for a while relishing the humming vibrations. Finishing her drink, she stood up and leaned forward. Hugging her sister, she whispered," Rintz promises to keep her eyes and ears open. Rintz shall return back to St. Mungo's. Rintz serves Magic Old."

Dinty patted her affectionately and whispered back," Dinty thinks the Ancients will call for a council soon. Dinty serves Magic Old."

Potter's Beautyfying Potions
Diagon Alley
31th January 1960

Fleamont Potter couldn't quite believe himself when he received the urgent owl from Gringotts. Grabbing his robe he yelled for his secretary Mrs. Iris Firmbridge instructing her to handle the affairs of the day until he returned. He still had the floo powder held in his hand, when the fireplace of his office at Diagon Alley roared and the friendly face of Septimus Weasley came into view.

"Blimey, Mr. Potter, did you get the letter from the goblins, as well?"

"Ah, Mr. Weasley please do step in at once. I most certainly did get one. It sounds quite urgent. I wonder what just come up on a weekend day."

"I wasn't really meaning to be at my office either. But the Ministry seems to be quite rattled about something as well. Rumours are flying all about the place. They say, the Ministry shook on its grounds last night. I also heard a witch exclaim, even Hogwarts might crumble down! Unbelievable! Aurors won't say much. The youngest of them, Mr. Shacklebolt dropped by my office." Septimus Weasley spoke all at once while brushing away the soot of his robes.

"Reverend Shacklebolt. Hard-working man, quite a duelist...tragic, what happened to his family. What did he want?"

"Oh! The Aurors are everywhere. They are asking and snooping around every damn place. But I can say, they are mostly looking into the Archives and the Courtroom level. I will make a calculated guess, they must have torn apart the Department of Mysteries already. Shacklebolt and his partner Readersthorne knocked everything in our offices," bringing out his handkerchief the red-haired man wiped his brow.

"What are they looking for?" Raising his eyebrows, Fleamont asked.

"Won't say! But asked quite a handful of weird questions," Mr. Weasley huffed," I am telling you I don't like the sound of any of them. I am a junior undersectrary working myself into a knot at the Wizengamot not for nothing. Didn't quite enjoy getting interrogated, like that. They asked me whether I am hiding dark artifacts. Now, Mr. Potter, I might fancy muggle contraptions a bit more than the rest of our folks. But they aren't anything dark, are they?"

"No, no not at all!" the inventor of Sleekeazy hair potion consoled his young friend immediately. He glanced at the man and subtly turned his attention to the crumpled letter held on his other hand. " So, you were talking about the Gringotts Letter?"

The other wizard scowled at his own feet and blurted out, " We are not the only one. Almost all pureblood families received one. I saw my father in law, Mr. Black leading Abraxas Malfoy, accompanied by Mr. Greengrass, Mr. Crabbe, Mr. Rowle, and Mr. Pakinson storm out of the Atrium as I was getting on to the elevator. My secretary informed that they had hackled the Minister of Magic previously. Apparently Gringotts wishes to remodel their lowest levels."

"Remodel? Since when in Merlin's name can they do that!" Fleamont exclaimed.

"I heard those men mutter, the goblins are citing securities reasons. But you know Malfoys, Blacks, and Lestranges guard their vaults like vicious snakes. They are miffed, and they wanted the Ministry to intervene. Well, of course, Sir, you know that is not quite possible." Tapping the letter on his palm, Mr. Weasley offered.

Fleamont hummed thoughtfully," Well! One cannot question the Goblins, their laws are more stringent than ours. I was in fact on my way to the bank, would you like to join me?"

"Gladly, Mr. Potter. I was thinking along the same line," Mr. Weasley, squared his shoulders, looking much like a man with a mission.

merkt með töfra okkar innsigluðum af blóði okkar - við sverjum hollustu við Rognad Vakta (Icelandic) meaning marked by our magic sealed by our blood, we swear allegiance to Rognad Vakta.