When the bloody bundle of expensive silk hit the floor of Gringotts, the goblins didn't even pause in their work. A high pitched scream echoed for a moment, then suddenly stopped.
There was silence for about three seconds. Then pandemonium. Patrons fled for the doors, women screamed. When the bundle moved, a woman fainted.
A few brave souls approached, sticks held out from their bodies like weapons. A brown boot nudged at the bloody mess, and the owner gasped when the pile whimpered. His hands reached down and uncovered a head of long brown hair.
"It's a child!" he shouted, "She's been splinched!"
There was a flurry of activity as unfamiliar magic pulsed around her, shoving the man and everyone else back. The magic pushed until everyone was at least five feet away, then settled. Every single goblin stopped what they were doing and looked up at that.
It was mere moments later when three people shoved their way through the crowd, shiny insignia on their collars. The tall female leaned down, tsking. "Oh dear, oh dear. You poor thing." She glanced up at one of her compatriots. "She's alive." The girl's hair was brushed back, and the woman looked into two blue tear-filled eyes. "And awake. We need a healer."
Everyone was speaking in her Papa's tongue. She understood most of it, but Papa had told her it was a language that only a few knew.
"Don't move, duckling," the woman murmured, running a hand along Phoebe's limbs. She waved a light brown twig over Phoebe and muttered something. Some of the wracking pain disappeared, but she still hurt. Another wave and she could see better, as the blood dripping into her eyes vanished.
"There you are, sweeting. You're a pretty little thing, aren't you. Can you tell me who your mummy and daddy are?" The woman kept talking as she checked the girl's injuries, but Phoebe couldn't say anything. She was looking around the vaulted marble room with wide eyes. Her gaze settled on the woman again, focusing on her blond hair. The ends were blue, which drew the child's attention. "You've landed in Gringotts. Looks like a portkey accident. Do you know where you were going?"
As Phoebe shifted, her father's black stick clattered to the floor, followed by the pinging of a key. A goblin was there before the small noises stopped. "Let me see the key."
The odd-haired lady went to touch it, and swiftly drew her hand back with a muffled curse. The goblin grimaced. "An old key." He reached down, picking it up with no issue. The woman picked up the stick with a corner of her cloak.
The murmurs of the other bank patrons impinged on the child's ears. "Bring her this way," intoned the goblins.
A very large male person with the same insignia on his collar as the lady reached down to grab the girl. His pale face was set in a scowl, and there was cruelty around his eyes. Her eyes widened, accompanied by a terror filled screech, as she tried to scramble back. The situation was too much for her, and tears ran down her face as she sobbed in fear and pain.
The woman nearly growled at the man, and told him to back off. "Does anyone know that language?" The girl had said something, but it wasn't English. "You're hurt, sweeting. If you come with us, we'll see about bandages and perhaps some tea while we wait for the healer. Is that alright?"
Phoebe was still holding her arm to her belly. She stared a bit too long for politeness at the woman, who hadn't hurt her. Phoebe choked back the shameful display, gathering herself as she rested on the floor. And spoke in her father's tongue. "If you wouldst be so kind."
The man again came forward, bending as if to reach for her, and Phoebe shrank back from him. "I'll bring her," the woman said to the men with her.
Phoebe flinched when the men looked angry. "Heyla, now, none of that. Such frowns my mates have. Now, I'm going to lift you into my arms. Try not to move, alright?" The second man murmured and waved his stick, and the woman gave him a grateful look.
The goblin who had spoken before glowered at them. "In here. Do not dawdle." The lady set Phoebe down on a goblin-sized couch in the small office. The two men seemed to realise their presence made the child nervous, and stayed near the door.
"Let me see the wand," the goblin demanded.
The woman handed it over. It was always sticky when aurors dealt with Gringotts. Technically the grounds were sovereign territory, not directly under ministry oversight. If they hadn't already been there, they may not even have been summoned, depending if the Goblins considered it an internal matter or a wizarding one.
The goblin ran his fingers over the wand,then the key, making a humming noise. He set the wand and the key in the centre of the desk. "You may leave the child."
One of the men, the mean one, at the door stiffened, and opened his mouth to say something. The other one elbowed him and spoke up. "I'm sorry, Gorlak, but we can't just leave a child. Especially one that is injured."
"Very well." The goblin pressed a button on his desk, and two armoured goblins came through another door. They stood at either end of the couch Phoebe was sitting on. The silence loomed.
Oddly, it was that first goblin that had manners, though his tone was curt but crisp when he spoke to Phoebe in English, ensuring his sounds were clear. "I am Gorlak, of the Nation. May I ask your name?"
Phoebe glanced around the room. Goblins she knew, they were associated with her grandmother's court. So few were left after their defence, she was surprised to see any out of hiding. "I shall be called Phoebe Elizabeth, Warlord Gorlak."
His ears twitched as she spoke, and he tried a few different languages with no response. Returning to English, he bit out, "tell me your age, youngling, and the colour of your hair."
"I hast ten and one years, and mine hair is brown."
The goblin tilted his head a moment, listening to her accent. "Elphyne?" Phoebe's eyes widened in response. He nodded, then spoke in a strange tongue as he pressed another button. Returning his attention to the woman, he said "the healer has three minutes to arrive or Gringotts will heal the child. We will be charging the ministry, as is custom, if that occurs."
The woman, who appeared to be in charge, nodded. One of the men at the door checked a pocket-watch. At exactly three minutes, the door opened again, and another goblin arrived. "Healing is private. Leave."
The woman was muttering something about wishing the kid hadn't had a key. She turned to the men at the door. "Let Scrimgeour know that there is an incident." She turned back to the Goblins as the men left. "As she is a girl child, I will stay."
The healer clipped out "acceptable" as he waved his hand in the air near Phoebe's arm. He then spoke gently in Phoebe's language. "Your arm is broken and has several large gashes. I will repair it. It will hurt. Your ankle is not broken, but will need attention as well. You have small cuts and bruises on your face and elsewhere. Do you consent?"
Phoebe was so grateful to speak her own tongue she revealed too much. "Yes, Healer. I am called Phoebe Elizabeth, daughter of the Nynyane, sired by Max, paternity expunged, and I need to find the Seer."
"Anything is available for the correct price." As he spoke, he poked a metal object to her shoulder, and she gasped. A few painful moments later, her arm and ankle no longer hurt. The goblin looked at the instrument, then back to her. His face was suddenly more kind, and he bowed his head respectfully. "You are known to us, your grace. This woman appears to claim you. Is she a relative?"
"I don't know her. She seems like a town guard?"
The healer fired off another spate of Gobbledegook at Gorlak, who turned to the woman. "She will be taken to the vaults."
"You can't keep her!"
Gorlak nearly rolled his eyes. Phoebe was glancing from one to the other. The healer spoke in her primary language again. "You will go to the vault. It will test you, and if you belong, we must release you to the witch and the human ministry. If you do not, you will fade as others have faded, in time. This is something we cannot change about this world. Pray your father's blood is strong enough. Do you understand?"
"Must I do this?"
"There is no other choice, your grace."