"I beg your pardon?" Vulpecula hissed between her teeth, her green eyes flashing dangerously.
Account manager Kurlast cleared his throat and began rereading the page in front of him in a slightly louder voice. "As of the last audit on British soil in March of-"
"No," Vulpecula cut him off and rubbed her temples in frustration. This was not her idea of a fun birthday. "I heard you perfectly well the first time Manager Kurlast." She sighed deeply and regained her composure. "So you're telling me that my families' wealth in England was mainly based on land taxation and monetary loans, both of which have fallen by the wayside since the English branch died out in 1873. And in the ensuing years nobody has seen fit to inform the french branch of the family, who inherited it, nor the french branch of Gringotts?"
"Yes Mistress Peverell that is the general gist of it," Kurlast snarled, nodding. "We have caught the goblin responsible and all of their associates. They are currently being held by the Branch Head King Ragnook. He has decided that they shall each endure in solitary isolation until they spill all the information they have or they spill their own brains on the floor. Some of the weaker willed ones are already babbling in their madness."
Vulpecula paused for a moment to process that before shaking the thoughts clear of her head. Goblins were a proud race and did not take well to anyone from the Outside questioning their practices. This was not the time to question their torture methods.
"And what have you learned from them thus far?"
"Several of the younger ones have been released for retraining. They were victims of corruption, unknowingly obeying and following orders from higher ups. From what we have learned it was a core of three goblins who knew everything, and each of them had three accomplices who each knew part of what was going on. From there it becomes more scattered and fragmented, but we are tracking down everyone involved. But we learned that the original idea started with an embezzlement scheme between one of the hired debt collectors and several of your debtors. We don't have a finalized list, but we've narrowed it down to about a half a dozen family names. From there we've compared headship dates and death records to identify the most likely culprits. Their names are in red ink on this list of debtors."
Kurlast slid a small scroll of parchment across the table with a vicious grin. Once he released it, Vulpecula grabbed the scroll gingerly and carefully opened it. The list was longer than she thought with a few names she had never heard of before. She suspected that they were either muggle or squib lines that were 'not magical enough to be of note'. However, as she read, everal of the names on the list surprised her. Who would have suspected that the Malfoy Family were living on borrowed wealth? At least they hadn't been involved in the crime. This time.
Vulpecula rolled her eyes as she read that the Dumbledore family had been contracted to collect debts for the Peverells. Of course they were. The names Wolfric and Percival Dumbledore were glowing a bright cherry red. Vulpecula supposed that Albus had to get his ideas of siphoning off the Potter wealth from somewhere. After all, he was astonishingly uncreative for a magical person. And why not use a system already in place?
What had shocked her was that nobody had looked into this before. If it could go unnoticed for so long with her accounts, which were rather sizeable, though nowhere near the largest; what could be happening with smaller individual accounts. What was being missed for individuals who didn't have families and political power to protect themselves with?
"I trust," Vulpecula started dangerously. "Account Manager Kurlast, that once this corruption is weeded out, you will audit the rest of the bank. After all, if something like this could happen to a reasonably influential family account..."
Kurlast grinned evilly and drew a wickedly curved dagger out of his belt.
"Trust me Mistress," he traced a finger along the edge of the blade, allowing a single drop of black blood to drip onto the desk in front of him. "My clan are goblins of honor. If we need to overturn the entire bank to ensure our duty is fulfilled, we will draw blades and blood without hesitation."
Something not quite foreign within Vulpecula's mind took note of the unusual action and whispered to her that he had offered a sacred vow. This was an oath upon the blood of his clan and should he or his clan break it the traitor would suffer and die in accordance to the severity of their breach. He had offered the goblin's equivalent to an unbreakable vow. One that extended to his entire bloodline, and he was waiting for her to accept, to place her trust in him and his kin.
Vulpecula drew a small silver knife from her robes. A wand would not work for this sacred ritual. Carefully she pricked the side of one of her fingers, allowing a single drop of blood to ooze out. It fell, bright red glistening through the air, threatening to splatter across the bright white marble floor. Then it stopped, seemingly hanging as a liquid ruby from an invisible thread at the tip of her knife.
It hung in the air, falling in place, waiting for something to happen. Vulpecula grinned viciously, matching the expression of the goblin in front of her.
"On your honor, and on your blood, so mote it be." Vulpecula intoned, and flicked the dagger towards the desk. The droplet of blood soared through the air and met Kurlast's with a hiss. They sizzled together, boiling away until it formed a solitary stone.
Kurlast picked up the bloodstone and with a deft twist of his fingers split it in two. He handed half of the stone to Vulpecula and tucked his half away into a small inside pocket of his coat. From across the desk Vulpecula noticed Kulrast momentarily flinch as the stone was broken and caught a slight whiff of singed flesh.
"Are we satisfied, mistress?" Kurlast asked, bowing his head in deference.
Vulpecula nodded as she picked up the stone, inspecting it thoroughly. It was a quality stone, and she relished in the additional look of confused fear that flittered across the goblin's face.
"We are." She deftly tucked the stone into a small pocket against her body and stood, straightening out her clothes as the goblin hastened around to get the door for his client.
"One last question, mistress," Kurlast asked, clearly anxious for the first time that she had seen. Vulpecula nodded and gestured for him to continue.
"Have you been exposed to any harsh acids or poisons that might still linger in your system?"
A crooked grin snuck its way across Vulpecula's face as she casually rolled up her left sleeve to the crook of the elbow to reveal the round scar from the basilisk. The only mark that still marred that section of flesh.
"It's been quite a few years, but I suppose that Basilisk venom doesn't fade, even with the healing effect of fresh phoenix tears." and with that, she swept out the door and down the cavernous hallway, cloak sweeping behind her in a way that would make Snape jealous.
Kurlast stared as Vulpecula swept down the corridor, a leaden weight settling in his stomach. He watched until she rounded a corner and the last corner of her cloak was out of view before he took a deep breath. Slowly he unclenched his fist and brought his palm up toward his face for a detailed inspection.
The green tinged flesh was yellowed in the center where he had held the stone and broke it. Several small fluid filled blisters were growing as he observed the acid burn. In the center the skin was browned and oozing a sickly smelling yellow pus.
Kurlast grimaced as he pulled a kerchief from his pocket and quickly wrapped it around his hand. He winced as the fabric pulled against the still stinging blister but tied the knot tight with his teeth. The custodians would flog him to within an inch of his life should he drip any bodily fluids through their pristine hallways. And hopefully the medi goblins would have something that could help heal basilisk venom burns…
Vulpecula stepped out into Diagon Alley and raised a hand to block the sun from her eyes. It was already 2 in the afternoon, and she had less than an hour to get all of her shopping done before her meeting with Headmaster Dippett.
Thankfully, even with the embezzlement money wouldn't be an issue for a while. The depleted wealth would have to be nurtured and carefully invested to grow back to what it once was, but Vulpecula wouldn't have to worry about money seriously until well after graduation. Ever, if the goblins did their jobs well enough. The bloodstone weighed heavily in her pocket as a reminder of the oath that was sworn. They would do everything they could. Their very lives depended on it.
Vulpecula hated that they had sworn on the lives of every clan member. She did not want the innocent to suffer for the guilt of someone else. So in that moment, as she basked in the warm summer sun she made a promise to herself. Whenever she could stick her nose into Dumbledore's schemes and disrupt his machinations, she would. Whenever she had the chance she would tangle the puppet strings he so loved to pull, and force those he tried to control to think for themselves, and make their own decisions. She took one last breath and started moving. It's hard to change the future while standing still.
She hurried down the steps and pulled out her shopping list. The apothecary would be quick, she just needed to give them the list of ingredients to deliver. Flourish and blotts was optional, and would probably be better suited for after she had a school list to base her needs on. That left clothes. Vulpecula sighed and tucked her list away, already dreading the endless train of clothing options they would thrust at her as she was pinched and poked at by a tailor. She just needed some casual robes in the current style, and something a bit more upscale for the upcoming party at the Black's.
Unthinkingly she walked to where she knew Madame Malkin's shop was and was surprised when she opened the door to reveal a completely different Madame Malkin than she knew before. The girl in front of her looked to be about seventeen, her dark hair held back by twisting it around her wand. The name on her name tag clearly read Miss Miriam Malkin, and Vulpecula was shocked to realize that this was indeed the same Madam Malkin who owned the shop in the 90's.
This younger Madam Malkin looked up and smiled welcomingly.
"Welcome to Madam Malkin's," She started cheerfully. "How could we help you today?"
"Well," Vulpecula started, blinking as she heard her voice adopt a light french accent. Just enough to help convince someone that she had lived in France for a majority of her adolescent years. "I am in need of a couple new sets of casual robes. And perhaps something a bit classier as well? I have an afternoon party that I am to attend and I must make a good impression." It was odd to hear her voice adjusted like that, to feel her tongue making odd shapes as she spoke. It was clearly her mouth making the sound but it didn't quite sound right to her ears, as used as she was to hearing her normal surrey accent.
"Of course miss," Malkin was scribbling down the details on an order sheet. "Do you have any material preferences for casual wear? There are only a couple common styles but when tailored they become unique to you. We just got in some high quality cottons if you're interested."
"Perhaps one cotton, one linen, two wool would do." Vulpecula looked at the display for casual robes. The five designs had remained almost completely unchanged in the future. The only difference she could pick out was how they were hemmed to keep your hands free. "I suppose I'll take designs 2 and 5. 2 in linen and wool, and 5 in cotton and wool."
"Wonderful choices miss," Malkin stated, her quill flying across the parchment. "Now If you'd like to step into the booth we'll get your measurements and figure out what style specialty robe would suit you."
Vulpecula stepped into the privacy booth and the curtain swung closed behind her. She removed her cloak and outermost robe and hung them from the provided pegs. She had just settled into the comfortable chair when there was a polite knock on the entrance. She bade the person enter and was shocked to come face to face with a rather middle aged Madam Malkin.
Her name tag read Madam Wilhelmina Malkin, and Vulpecula rather figured that this was Madam Malkin's mother.
Wilhelmina Malkin Smiled kindly as she entered the fitting area, her face creasing kindly with the action. Clearly this woman took a lot of joy in her work and her life, as evidenced by the deep smile lines. "Oh my aren't you a lovely one. I'm Willhelmina Malkin, but please call me willow."
"It's nice to meet you," Vulpecula responded with a smile, inclining her head slightly as she stood. "Please call me Val." It was close enough to the truth, she figured. But she'd rather not have anyone figuring out that she was a Peverell yet. The name seemed to be almost as big a deal as Potter was in her last life, but not quite as immediately recognizable. The Potters had been famous, instantly recognizing the name for what it meant for society.
The Peverells, on the other hand, seemed to be more of a legend. Recognizable in the way that Flamel was known but not instantly recognized. But as soon as people started to realize that the family was active once more she would no longer be able to go anonymously. She doubted she would be mobbed like she was in her past life. Regardless, she had learned that discretion in matters of names paid off in that you would be able to slip away as another member of the crowd.
In the end the fitting went rather smoothly. Vulpecula wasn't stuck with any pins, and Willow was more than happy to just chatter on aimlessly as she worked, only demanding answers as to the comfort or fit of the garment. With the fit done and measurements taken, Vulpecula donned her outer robes and cloak. Once she stepped out of the fitting room she was confronted with Miriam holding three dress robes on hangers.
"These are the three that mom recommended, and honestly I agree. You'd look spectacular in all of them."
The three robes were dramatically different styles and colors. The first was a high necked sleeveless robe that flowed like it was made of thick air. It started out black at the neck and faded to white as it reached the floor. Even as it hung still, the material seemed to shift and shimmer as though woven from starlight on a moonless night.
The second robe was a deep royal blue, like staring down into the depths of the ocean. It had a portrait neckline, and would reveal the tops of her shoulders while covering her arms to just above the wrist. The skirt flared out at the hips, drifting down in silver tipped waves of fabric that would end at about the middle of her shins.
The last robe was grecian style, with swathes of sheer forest green material flowing towards the floor. The v neck was deep enough to be almost scandalous in wizarding society, despite the modesty provided by its floor length design and puffy sleeves. At the wrists and waist there were golden cords, tied to keep everything in place and to accentuate the dramatic difference between the loose material and the structure that lay beneath.
"I'll take them all," Vulpecula said, pulling out her gold pouch. "How much is it? And could I have a house elf pick them up when they're ready?"
Willow smiled winningly as she totaled out the cost of everything. All in all it was a bit more than Vulpecula had intended to spend, but she got several spectacular dresses and robes to last her until she outgrew them. She stepped out of Madam Malkin's and checked the time, swearing under her breath as she realized that she only had about five minutes to meet up with Headmaster Dippett at the Leaky Cauldron.
Vulpecula took a breath and deftly started wending her way towards the Leaky Cauldron, oblivious to the dark eyes that followed her from the shadowy entrance of Knockturn Alley.