- CHAPTER SEVENTEEN -
There were once two brothers. The eldest, a tyrant, wanted to secure the elixir of life so he could rule his Kingdom forever. The youngest, an anarchist, wanted the sword of Ragnuk, so he could bring an end to the monarchy through regicide. This family feud was steeped in a hatred that transcended bloodlines and kin, for the two brothers shared a mutual hatred of human beings.
In the bitter cold, through the deep snow, the three young humans trekked with their goblin hostage. It was a journey measured in endless steps. One foot after another crunched through the snow. The cold penetrated down to their marrow. Their muscles ached, tendons clenched. Robotic and depleted, they did not speak. Their hostage remained as blank as a marionette puppet, moving under the strings of a spell. Their ears strained for the sound of a troll or beast, but it was unnervingly quiet.
After their steep descent, they walked slowly along the base of the mountain. From a distance, they spotted a natural anomaly. It looked like a deep, vertical scar running ragged along the rockface. As they drew near, Romnuk's presence triggered the scar to yawn open with the sound of boulders grinding like teeth. They stood before a tunnel with metal tracks, like a salivating tongue, glimmering under the snow.
The three paused to share a look. In another place foreign to their kind, they had been delivered a prophecy that had sent them to this very destination. Albus took a deep breath and steadied the grip on his wand. Scorpius nodded. He squeezed Rose's hand.
The endless march continued, now down the throat of this leviathan beast. Each step clanged against the metal of the tracks. They had crossed into the Goblin Kingdom, one of the most guarded magical territories known. Few humans could say they had come this far without invitation.
It was after an age of walking that another source of light appeared in the distance. It was a lantern flickering with an enchanted flame. It's honey orange glow licked the walls with colour, turning the tunnel into a single wax cell in a much larger hive. It was not a comforting thought.
The lantern was nailed into the natural wall of the tunnel, illuminating a slab of stone carved with runes. As they got close, the light flickered. Its gold flame sputtered as a sudden gust of air rushed through the passage. Rose, Albus and Scorpius turned to see a much brighter source of light hurtling towards them at a great speed.
They scrambled up onto the platform, dragging Romnuk up after them. Just as they collapsed onto the slab of rock, the train shrieked to a stop on the tracks where they had stood a moment before. The steel whine of the brakes echoed through the tunnel.
A harsh voice yelled out at them from the train. A set of heavy boots hit the platform.
"Remember," Albus whispered, directing his warning to Rose. "Our goal is to find Morgana."
The sister. The overthrown Queen. Morgana the Unlikely. Morgana the Morose. Morgana the Miserable. Rose nodded mutley but it was hard not to look at Romnuk. To have had him so close this whole time and allow him to live went against every nerve in Rose's body.
"Let's do this," she whispered. The boys handed her their wands without a question. It was time to put their plan in action.
A moment later, the three humans were seized by goblin guards. They did not resist. Not the chains, not the frisk search, not even when their wands were confiscated.
The train travelled through the dark intrauterine tunnel, toward the belly of the beast. It did not resemble the Hogwarts Express. There were no compartments, no seats and no windows. Their carriage was simply a long steel container with rails to hold onto. The spartan interior reminded Rose of how muggles transported cattle.
The long rectangular slits in the walls let in narrow shafts of light and the air flow around the train changed. They had emerged from the tunnel. She couldn't get close enough to the slits to check their surroundings. The goblin guards outnumbered them. They had no choice but to wait.
Romnuk's wrists were adorned in the same goblin-metal chains of the wizards and witches beside him. Here, he was a fugitive, just as he was in England. The anarchist bent on bringing down all governments and institutions, the military leader who had run rogue. He was now addled with magic, missing his good hand, emaciated and weak. The eldest brother may not even recognise him.
With a screech, their train jolted to a halt. The guards forced them onto another platform and steered them through a carved archway. They had left behind the bleak cave. This chamber was the size of the Great Hall. The walls glittered with precious stones, shimmering like opals. A sharp stalactite chandelier protruded from the centre of the ceiling. While these decorative elements dazzled them, the hall itself was sparse with no furniture or signage.
"This was not the vanguard we were expecting."
The voice was accent was thick, but the speaker had a clear command of English. Rose, Scorpius and Albus turned towards it. In synchronicity, the blood drained from their faces. It was the look a muggle might have had if they saw a ghost. This was more or less accurate for their current circumstance.
Grigarex, the Goblin King's advisor, strode towards them. It was as if he had climbed out of the grave to greet them.
There were certain certainties that could be relied on. In a word of shifting sand, these certaintieis were rocks that stood constant against the moving landscape. One of those certainties was death. Even in the world of magic, death could not be reversed or tampered with. While death carried the great unknown, it was also one of the only knowns.
Grigarex had somehow defied this certainty. He stood in goblin armour, a glimmer in his beetle black eyes. His neck was ring with a puckered red scar. His very presence cracked the rock, eroded all certainty and made the human mind question the purpose of the bloodbath.
"How are you still alive?" Albus choked out.
It was Albus who was hit hardest by this goblin's reappearance. It was his father who had slashed this goblin's throat, who had watched him die. The weight of that murder had bogged Harry down.
"Of course, you are surprised to see me," Grigarex conceded. He smiled. It was a thin gash across his face to match the death defying scar on his throat. "The last you had seen of me, Romnuk here had issued a military coup of your ministry in an attempt to expunge the puppet regime we had set up under your Minister. How much havoc he has created since then," he chuckled. "Romnuk does not seem surprised."
Romnuk showed no recognition at being addressed. He was staring blankly ahead, face slack beneath the graffiti of his tattoos. While he was lethal without the magical muzzle they had placed him in, Albus, Rose and Scorpius could not help but wonder what his true reaction to Grigarex would have been. After all, he had been behind the military coup. It had been his goblin militia tasked with killing Grigarex, even if the Order had gotten there first.
Grigarex began to drink in the slackness on Romnuk's face. His eyes glimmered with amusement.
"What have you done to him?"
"He was not the most cooperative guide," Rose answered.
Grigarex's eye dropped lower, now assessing Romnuk's missing hand. In the sparkling light dancing off the jeweled walls, the recently closed wound looked especially ugly.
"You have left a mark on him in more ways than one," he mused, focusing on Albus and Scorpius as he replied. "He has wreaked havoc for your kind just as he has done for ours. I am surprised you did not dispose of him. With so many goblin traitors defected to your side, surely you had a choice of guides."
"We killed the rest of the Kobold Könige," Albus said. It was a surprise that any words could make it through his clenched jaw. "We assumed you would want to deal with Romnuk the Rough through your own process."
"Very generous. You have gone to such trouble to return this traitor to us. The question I must now ask is, for what price?"
Albus could not stop staring at the jagged scar around Grigarex's throat. It arrested his attention, smothering all other thoughts. How had he survived his father's curse? They had watched him die.
Rose spoke instead. "We want an audience with your King."
Grigarex smiled again. Unlike Romnuk, his teeth had not been sharpened. His smile was still a leer.
Rose smiled in return, just as dangerously. "We're not here to cause you trouble," she said. "We want to make a deal, and we can make it worth your while."
Grigarex ordered that their hands be unbound. He instructed the guards to take them to accommodation within the royal quarters. All of this was said in English, as if to make a point.
However, their wands were not returned to them.
Romnuk did not receive the same hospitality. Grigarex directed the guards in Gobbledegook and, still in chains, he was led out of the chamber the way they had arrived. A flare of panic burst in Rose's chest as she watched him leave, the back of his tattooed skull disappearing through the archway.
"Where are you taking him?" she asked quickly.
She did not receive any response.
They did not return to the freight train, but were instead escorted to an open-air carriage. While their hands were no longer chained, the guards stayed in front of them and behind them. Rose studied the tattoo on the back of the closet guard's neck. A three-point crown in black ink, with a sword and axe crossed over it. Branded, owned, like cattle.
Their carriage was reminiscent of Gringott's cart system, although more spacious. They passed impressive locked doors on either side of the tracks, many of which were stationed with guards who stared incredulously at the human faces that blurred by. The corridor ended in another stone archway where the light that filtered through seemed different. They braced themselves as they sped through it.
The tracks continued along a brick viaduct several hundred feet tall. The sudden rush of air and space around them made it feel like they were flying. The elevated railway provided a dizzying panorama of the upper ring of the city. Laid out below like a map were streets and roads paved in cobblestone. They were lined with buildings and stalls decorated with festive purple flags. The bunting stood utterly still, without any breeze to send the fabric fluttering. Goblins moved along the streets, some pulling carts filled with cabbages or fruits. Other goblins, dressed in armour identical to their guards, paced along the street like silver ants. The streets were cut by canals, the water glistening weakly from the carriage's vantage point, and disappearing under small bridges.
The cluster of dwellings was ringed with high stone walls, and it was only as Rose traced her way up these walls and craned her neck back that she realised there was no sky above them. The walls met high above them in a summit, with a small crater at the top of the pyramid-like cavern, allowing weak light to enter. With a jolt, she realised they were still inside the mountain. It had been cleared like a shell, like the home of a hermit crab, with little sky visible. The mountains formed a natural protection against invasion from external forces. There was no way in without following the goblin's purpose-built passages.
These observations were interrupted by the rush of water. Ahead of them, the viaduct's tracks disappeared beneath a waterfall cascading down the internal wall of the mountain. She squeezed her eyes shut just as they plunged through it. The water was as cold as ice. Albus shook the water from his jet black hair and wiped his eyes. Scorpius carefully squeezed out the hem of his fleece-lined jumper. In their armour, the guards hadn't even flinched.
They had entered another enclosed tunnel. Metal doors once again lined the tracks and it was not long before they pulled up before a set. The goblin in front of them dragged his nail down the iron and the doors parted. He gestured for Rose, Scorpius and Albus to step inside. Once they had crossed the threshold, the doors closed behind them. The last thing Rose saw was the two guards standing on the landing outside, clearly with no intention to leave their cell unattended.
Rose was still mulling over the size of the cavernous metropolis hidden inside the mountain. According to Grigarex's instructions, this was only the upper quarter, where the King's most esteemed circles dwelled. They had been in the train a long time before they had come to that final stop. The Kingdom was far bigger than she had anticipated.
Across on the far wall, thick glass looked out on the frozen valley they had hiked through. Their room was built into the mountain, facing out into the world as if they were inside a snowglobe sitting high on a shelf, but the snow was falling on the reverse side of their sphere.
"How is Grigarex alive?" Albus burst out. He began to pace, from the window back to the steel doors. In the dim, grey light filtering through the window, he passed back and forth like a ghost. The colour had bled out of his face, leaving it ghoulishly pale. "Dad was tormented that he killed him. He watched him die. How can he still be here?"
Scorpius sighed heavily. He shrugged again, then got up to explore the room. Aside from the bed, piled with several thick grey blankets, there was a simple rug on the floor and a small wash closet with a chamber pot and a bath that sunk into the stone floor. Austere but not uncomfortable.
"Why have they put us here?" she asked shakily. "Why wouldn't they imprison us?"
The separation from Romnuk had kicked up a storm of anxiety. They hadn't had the opportunity to get him the Sword. Away from their wands for too long, the magical strings they pulled may be cut. He may be freed from them.
"I'm sure they just want to question him," Albus said.
Scorpius turned around, frowning at her. Rose reached frantically down the front of her thick jumper and pulled out the small beaded bag from between her breasts. It was small enough to be held in the palm of her hand, smaller than a Bludger. She opened it and began to dig around the inside of it, elbow deep.
"How are you not focused on the fact that he isn't dead?" Albus reiterated. His face was still ashy. "If someone like Grigarex is this hard to kill, what hope do we have against the King? Or Romnuk?"
"You're overthinking this. Harry must've thought he killed him. Maybe someone came to help."
"He slashed his throat down in the Department of Mysteries during the military coup. The only people who could have found him were the goblins who were intending to kill him," Albus replied hotly.
Rose gritted her teeth. Finally, she stopped her searching. Her fingers had found the sleek metal Sword of Gryffindor. She let go of the hilt and withdrew her arm from the bag. Leaning down, she began to unlace her shoes. Her feet had swollen so much inside them that it hurt to pull them off.
"I'm sure there's an explanation," she eventually replied. "But I'm not in the frame of mind to figure it out. I'm exhausted. This is the first time in weeks that we have a chance to sleep away from Romnuk. We may as well take advantage of it."
Scorpius caught Albus' eye, opened his mouth, then pursed it into a thin line. Even if he had logical explanations or theories to provide, he had no way of raising them. With a shrug, he stood up and walked into the small wash closet, turning on the taps for the bath. Rose was already on the bed, sleeping almost instantly. It didn't seem like either had the answers he was looking for.
He stood by the glass window, watching the flurries of snow flutter into the frozen valley. Slowly, Rose's gentle snores filled the air. He heard the water stop running in the bathroom, followed by the sound of Scorpius submerging himself in the water. Rose was right - this was their first opportunity in weeks to rest without the presence of Romnuk. Even under all of his spells, his blank eye stare had felt like the giant squid skimming the surface of the lake. The one tentacle that could be seen did not account for the others that remained hidden beneath the water.
They were in unfamiliar territory. Grigarex's reappearance had been a wild card. If the King could rely on a source that knew about them, their families and the wizarding world with such detail - who knew whether they would take their bait or call their bluff. Their plan was feeling more and more like a gamble and he didn't like their odds.
His gnawing anxiety gave way to exhaustion. Albus could not resist the soporific effects of safety, even if it was a false sense of security. The guards stationed on the other side of the steel door were there to keep them locked inside, not to stop anyone from coming for them.
He had no choice but to sprawl across the bed beside Rose and close his eyes, hoping to escape for a short while into sleep or the silky darkness of unconsciousness.
Romnuk slowly swam into consciousness. It was an arduous swim from beneath the reeds and weeds of a deep, murky river. He felt as if he had been in a thick fog filled with fragmented dreams that were slipping away as he drew back into focus. He felt groggy, as if he had been sleepwalking for days and didn't know where he had woken up.
"Let's try this again," a voice said, in his native tongue.
It took him a moment to locate his bearings. Cold fingers ran down his spine as he took in the glistening stalactites protruding from the low ceiling. The way the mineral glistened, like dust inside glass, was familiar. The finest rock surrounded him on all sides. Immeasurably valuable and entirely impenetrable.
His shock only doubled when he looked down to find his arms bound, one hand missing entirely. His good hand. His hammer hand. He couldn't remember how he had lost it but he felt certain it had something to do with those three foolish humans. The two boys and the girl. They had caused him so much grief. For some reason, he could not picture their faces.
"Do you know your name?"
"Romnuk," he croaked. "The Rough."
"Good."
"Your name, brother?"
"You are no brother of ours," the voice replied pleasantly. "You are a traitor."
The cold hand seems to clench the back of his neck this time but he knew there was no hand touching him. He craned his neck but couldn't see the goblin who had spoken. He stood just outside of his peripheries, concealed by the spiralling speleothems hanging from the ceiling.
The goblin touched his sharp nail to the stalactite he stood behind. As soon as his nail grazed the rock it illuminated. He touched it again, sending a rippling light through the ceiling that lit all of the stalactites like beams of jagged light or shards of glass glowing in the air. Romnuk squinted at the sudden cool, blue light. It took his eyes a moment to adjust as his interrogator stepped into his line of sight.
He let out a guttural laugh.
"You are a true escape artist," he mused, almost with satisfaction.
"Unlike your band of thugs," Grigarex replied, his lip curling, "we plan for every possibility."
Romnuk then noticed the scar that ran in a jagged line around Grigarex's neck. It was just visible above the goblin-made gorget that connected to his breastplate. He was almost entirely in armour. Was he expecting an attack, even now?
Grigarex cocked his head slowly to the side. "What exactly did those three children do to you?"
He looked down at his missing hand again. He couldn't remember.
"We've been here an hour. I've been questioning you for almost the duration of that time. It's taken me several attempts to break the charm they have put you under."
"Those three can't be trusted."
"Naturally," Grigarex sneered. "But neither can you - King Killer."
He groaned. If only he was truly a King Killer. He was so close to seeing his brother's head roll. All he had needed was the Sword. All he had wanted from those stupid children was the Sword. He was certain that if he killed his tyrant brother with the Sword, it would end his reign with legitimacy. The Kingdom would accept that the monarchy was over, the final King slain by the Sword of their last truly great leader. It would all come full circle.
"You have no idea the havoc your band of rebels have caused us," Grigarex snarled, approaching now. "Your brother thought that putting you in charge of the militia would keep you entertained."
"He was keeping me in exile," Romnuk bit back. He wished his arms were free. He would club Grigarex to death with his mangled hand in place of his hammer.
"Even when stationed amongst the humans you try to destroy your Kingdom. It is because of you the British Government we so carefully gained control over was then demolished. Your thugs and their illegal dragon smuggling caused such international outrage we then lost all diplomatic communication with the Balkans. We have been shut out of Europe. Who will buy our exports? Who will trade with us?"
"It was not hard to turn the humans against us. They were looking for a reason," Romnuk goaded. "They are always looking for a reason."
"You have no idea how to expand an empire," Grigarex replied. "All you know is how to destroy and you have destroyed your own gang in the process."
Romnuk slowly began to laugh. The rough, grating sound filled the cavern. All of the Kobold Könige were dead. They had been wiped out, all but him. It was not his brother or his army of advisers or the royal military that had managed to destroy the rebels. It was a bunch of teenage humans.
Romnuk watched wearily as Grigarex extracted a wizard's wand from his armour, bringing his cackling to an abrupt end. He loathed wands. They made him uneasy. They never worked right for him or the other Kobold Könige members. When he tried to use a wand, he felt like someone had sewn an eleventh finger onto his body. He had wanted the wand to use those spells, those particular spells, the ones that could really make a human hurt more than his hammer could. He had worn a wand for show when he was around wizards, to make a point. Still, a wand had never worked right for him, for any of them.
"Let's try this again," Grigarex said slowly, repeating his refrain from earlier. It sobered Romnuk up. He was no stranger to pain. He was no masochist either. He would not enjoy this.
"Why have those three humans brought you here?"
He thought hard. He could not remember the last few weeks. He remembered getting into the castle. He remembered the Sword. What had happened? He had been in cold climates, his hand bleeding. A pebbled beach. A lighthouse. A dark cave. A beige painted wall with a painting hanging on it. The mountains he remembered more clearly. He remembered picking up the stench of the troll on the wind and detouring them towards it, their human noses unable to pick up the scent like he could. He remembered holding the Sword for one glorious moment.
He could not mention the Sword. He could not mention his reasons for coming to the Kingdom.
What had they done to his brain? It was sluggish, slow, sliding over the same thoughts.
"I can't remember," he groaned. "I can't remember. I can't remember!"
He breathed through his teeth. What had they told him? What plans had they mentioned?
It came back to him, that moment under the great glowing tree in the forest. It was one of the last clear memories he had, perhaps preserved by that glowing gold light.
They wanted him to kill the King. They wanted him to kill Morgana. They wanted Romnuk on the throne. Then they wanted to make a deal with him. To seal it with magic. They wanted a treaty to protect their kind. They had promised him the Sword if he would do all this.
He had kept trying to kill them to get the Sword. He did not want to bring them with him, to bring them into it. He did not want to be bound by their magic, bound by their wands, by an oath pledged in human blood.
Now he was bound up, one handed, no weapon, brain addled. Had they forsaken him after his attempts at killing them?
Without the Sword, he was trapped. Without the Sword, he could not kill the King.
Grigarex placed the wand directly to Romnuk's throat. It burned against his skin, branding his neck. Romnuk shrieked in agony.
"Why have they brought you here?"
"I need to see them!" he shrieked. "I need to see the humans!"
A goblin guard had woken them with a platter of food. A mushroom soup, thick bread, and a cabbage salad. Despite the frugality of the meal, it looked like a feast to three starving teenagers. If Scorpius' tongue had worked, he would have licked his lips. He was salivating.
After placing the tray at their feet, the guard leveled to speak with them. He had an exceptionally long, pointy nose. It reminded Rose instantly of the muggle bedtime story her mother once told her and Hugo about a little wooden boy who lied.
"I will come to collect you shortly. Grigarex wishes to speak with you," the guard said in English. They were surprised by how proficient his English was. Until now, no guards had spoken to them.
"What about our audience with the King?" Rose demanded.
The guard was unmoved by her question. His complete lack of expression rivalled Scorpius. Instead, he addressed the three of them.
"Grigarex would appreciate the opportunity to speak with you about why you are seeking an audience, as it is most unusual for the King to grant such a request."
"What's happened to Romnuk?" Rose followed up quickly.
The guard blinked slowly. Rose could not read his expression. He turned and left without answering her. Her eyes narrowed in on the tattoo on the nape of his neck, a three-point crown with a sword and axe crossed over it. It was the last detail she focused on as the steel door slid shut behind him.
Scorpius leaned down to stir the soup gingerly, ladling the liquid to check what sorts of fungi and roots were in the broth. Rose remained fixed to the spot, her hands on her hips, staring at the closed doors.
"I wouldn't eat anything they give us," Albus warned, glancing at the soup. "It's not the first time goblins have tried to poison us."
"Do you think they've already killed Romnuk?" Rose asked.
She had not anticipated that they would be separated from Romnuk for so long. They were expecting to be imprisoned, not pampered in their own quarters. It complicated their plans considerably.
"Afraid they'll get all the fun of killing him?" Albus' tone was uncharacteristically snarky.
"We needed him if we're going to find Morgana." Rose crouched down to sniff the soup. Scorpius had returned to the bed, dejected by Albus' warning. They had been rationing their remaining food supplies but the beaded purse was not offering much in the way of a pantry.
"Do you think he'll actually go through with the plan - if we were to give Romnuk the Sword, would he kill the King without then trying to kill us?"
Romnuk would take any opportunity he could to kill them. Their journey through the mountains had proven that.
It was not long before the guard returned, marching them to the carriage before his own place at the back of the cart. Once again, they received a glimpse of the royal quarters in passing. The streets were looking more full and festive, draped in bunting and filled with music. The sound of drums and trumpets drifted through the craterous walls.
When Grigarex met them in another glittering circular chamber, he also seemed more festive than usual. Over his armour, he wore a violet, velvet cape. It made his pale skin more translucent.
This chamber was larger than any they had been in. The mineral formations in the cave ceiling rippled like curtains, folding in upon themselves and glittering with miniscule rocks as if their surface was inset with diamonds. The ground beneath their feet was laid with gold mosaics forming a pattern through the dark, polished tiles. In the centre of the room, an enormous stalagmite grew upwards from the floor in several rippling tiers. It was perfectly circular, the rock rising and falling like a fountain feature frozen to stone.
The beauty of the room was unlike anything the three teenagers had seen since arriving. It was hard to know where to look, the ornamental designs distracting them from the danger around them.
Grigarex was standing just beyond this magnificent centrepiece. He stood on a river of velvet carpet that ran up to a throne carved of dark onyx rock. No one sat on the throne but guards stood on either side of it. Its very presence was protected even when unoccupied.
"Thank you for joining me," Grigarex said. He feigned his hospitality like a mediocre performer taking the stage. His guests remained on edge and unmoved. "I am glad you had the opportunity to refresh yourselves after an arduous trip."
"We aren't planning on staying here long," Rose said coldly. "Once we have spoken to the Goblin King and have what we need, we will be on our way."
Grigarex acted as if he had not heard Rose speak. Instead, he studied the boys carefully. His eyes lingered on Scorpius' scarred face, his slightly sunken cheekbone. Scorpius was not returning the goblin's gaze. Instead, he stared above his head at the glittering mosaic icons above the throne. They detailed the coronations of Kings, showed goblins taming fire breathing dragons, and demonstrated battles where goblins fought goblins. These detailed tableaus shared a fuller version of goblin history, with scenes that would not have been found in a Hogwarts' textbook.
"I'm afraid to say that the Goblin King cannot meet with you," Grigarex replied, still maintaining his polite charade. "It is not customary for the King to give an audience without invitation."
"Can we request an invitation then?" Albus asked.
Grigarex smiled tightly. He reached for his throat, his long fingers lingering there briefly before he stroked his beard.
"This is a possibility. However, we need to assess what sort of threat you pose to the King."
"We surrendered our wands when we arrived," Albus said.
"Yet, you arrive with a terrorist bent on killing our King."
"We needed a way into the Kingdom," Rose replied coldly. "Anyway, since we have arrived, you have separated us from Romnuk."
Grigarex's beetle black eyes unwillingly flickered towards Rose.
"A necessary precaution," he said. "Even if your motives are pure as you say, you have not joined us at an ideal time. We are in the process of preparing for an important historic festival and these coming days are keeping the King very busy."
They might as well speak to the stone walls around them. Grigarex was not budging. They had come this far and they still may not have the opportunity to see the King.
Scorpius opened his mouth for the first time since their arrival in the Goblin Kingdom.
"Wha id we ab dum-dum-dum-ding ee wans?"
Everyone stared at him, even the guards. Grigarex seemed to be refraining from laughter. Scorpius showed no expression. In the gold glow of the stone formations around them, his carved face looked terrifying, as if he was melting like wax.
"What was that?" Grigarex asked politely.
"What if we have something the King wants," Albus translated, speaking firmly. He clasped Scorpius' shoulder. "It's customary to bring the Goblin King something when requesting an audience, isn't it?"
"What could you three children possibly bring to our King?"
Scorpius' face set. "Own."
"Hm?"
"We have a Philosopher's Stone," Rose said clearly and coldly.
This time, her words could not be ignored. A tremor ran over Grigarex's face as if a cloud had suddenly cast a shadow over him. He gingerly touched his neck, where the scar ran around his throat.
"You lie," he breathed.
"Why would we?" Albus frowned. "Scorpius and I are alchemists. We studied under Stella Bellucci. I'm sure her name is familiar."
"Stella Bellucci could not recreate the Stone," Grigarex scowled. He was now assessing them with renewed interest, his eyes darting over their bodies. Rose had hidden the beaded purse inside her blouse again. Their wands were tucked inside their trousers, against their thighs - too impractical for them to reach should they be attacked, but one of the safer places to hide them should they once again get searched. In any case, they should not be suspected. They had surrendered their wands.
"Will you give us an audience with the King or not?" Rose snapped.
Grigarex regarded them carefully.
"I will need some time to bring this before His Majesty. Until then, you are welcome in the Goblin Kingdom."
They were beginning to feel like trapped beasts in their small stone cage. Despite the creature comforts they had been given, they were starved and skittish. They could not keep still. They all alternated between pacing, standing by the door to listen for the guards, moving to the window to assess whether it was day or night. When food came in intervals, they did not eat it.
"If they kill Romnuk then it complicates things," Albus acknowledged, swallowing hard. "We were banking on Romnuk killing the King."
Scorpius shook his head at this. He pointed out, toward the door, beyond the door, back in the direction of Grigarex. He then tapped his temple twice with one, long fishbone finger.
Rose scowled. "You think they're onto us?"
Scorpius nodded. He motioned towards the beaded bag, which now sat on the bed innocuously.
"Yes, the Stone," Rose agreed, understanding Scorpius' gesture. "It'll only work if we can get him to drink the elixir though. It was always meant to be a wild card."
The Stone was a reversal of their original plan. In the time that it would take its effect on the King, he would have disposed of his brother. While this eliminated one of the brothers, it was not in their ideal order.
"The Goblin King still has an army loyal to him," Albus reminded Rose and Scorpius. The revelation of the Stone had backed them into a corner. "If Romnuk kills the King and takes the throne the blame is pinned on him - the King's army will target him, not us."
"We can't rely on Romnuk to find Morgana anymore," Rose said. She began pacing again, hoping the short, sharp loops would inspire some new plan. "None of this even matters unless we can get to her."
They had backed themselves into a corner. Rose kept returning to the prophecy. If the children of former enemies were truly to unite, did that only apply to their species alone? No matter which way she considered it, they needed to team up with a goblin in order to secure an end to the cycle of revenge that had kept their two species in a deadly feud across the centuries.
"I think we need help," Albus finally acknowledged.
Scorpius' brow furrowed in confusion. Rose shot Albus a warning look.
"It's time. It's the whole reason you left a mirror behind."
Scorpius stared at them both carefully before he slowly stood. Even if he could express his outrage, there was no need. The betrayal was clear in his eyes.
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you," Rose said quickly. "I wasn't sure if you'd approve."
He crossed his arms tightly. Then, his expression lightened. He gestured at his face.
"I thought about that too," Albus said, equally apologetic. "I'm sorry, mate. Even if they coach me through it, I just don't want to do that kind of magic on your mouth. If it goes wrong you might lose your speech forever."
Scorpius stood and paced to the far end of the room, turning his back on them to stare stonily out of the window. They no longer had a choice.
They were strained and exhausted. Wasting time fighting would only squander their opportunity to improvise.
Rose returned to the beaded bag, digging around in it once more before remembering she had her wand on her. She slid it out from within her trousers and used a Summoning Charm to retrieve the mirror. Her reflection in the glass was not easy to look at. Her blue eyes were ringed in oily purplish pouches. Her lips were chapped and split from the days of freezing cold. Her hair was matted and tangled. This would be the face her mother would see, for the first time in weeks. She took a shady breath and ran her fingers over the mirror.
Orlick was deep in a cell of Hogwarts, underground, where he liked it. If they had really wanted to punish him, they should have put him somewhere airy and light. One of the greenhouses, perhaps, with all those windows. Maybe the Astronomy Tower. They did not understand goblins. It was the stupidity of their kind, an inherited ignorance. If they wanted him to suffer, they shouldn't have kept him underground.
The worst part about his exile was being forced to live amongst humans, above the ground. It was unnatural for their kind. His skin itched and burned under the sun, even when it was diffused by the dreary clouds that constantly clung to Great Britain. Unlike the goblins who elected to work in Gringotts, he was not paid handsomely for this trouble. There was no recompense. He had suffered like an outcast.
He was awaiting to be tried. He would eventually be sent to Azkaban, he assumed. He was not, however, a priority. He received two meals a day. He was left to his cell, the cavernous chamber beneath the castle. He spent the hours wishing and hoping that Romnuk would succeed, despite how much he loathed the anarchistic rebel. If Morgana was never to take the throne, then he hoped at the very least the tyrant King would fall.
It was to his surprise that, between the long hours stretching from his first and second meal, his cellar door opened and a witch entered. Had the day for his trial come already?
"Orlick," Hermione Granger said, her lip trembling. She held her wand in one hand and a mirror in the other. He frowned at her in confusion. "I need you to come with me."
She took him high up into the Castle, beyond a staircase guarded by a gnarled stone gargoyle that sat as a sad parody of the sort of masonwork a goblin could achieve. It took him a moment to adjust to his surroundings. An office filled with portraits of sleeping wizards and witches in elaborate robes, spanning the centuries of human fashion. He recognised Albus Dumbledore immediately and understood that he was in the Headmaster's office, even before he took in the faces around the room.
Harry and Ginny Potter, Ron Weasley, and Draco and Astoria Malfoy. Unlike the slumbering portraits around them, these live faces were filled with trembling panic. It was a contagious kind of panic, the kind that made Orlick's own stomach turn.
Despite his frustrations with humankind, he did not wish them ill. He did not want to see them suffer as they had suffered over the last few years. He had not wanted any children to get hurt and it was on this principle he gave Romnuk the tip to get into Hogwarts.
To see this group of people assembled made him fear that those missing children were indeed hurt.
"Alright," Hermione took a shaky breath, placing the ordinary looking mirror on the desk between them. She beckoned Orlick over. Baffled, but in no position to refuse and no desire to be obstinate, he approached.
With a shock, he saw a different face in the mirror. Not a reflection, but a new portrait. Hermione Granger's daughter. Rose Weasley.
He nodded his head at her, impressed with this bit of magic.
She did not look as she had when she first joined the Order of the Phoenix. It was as if she had aged in the course of a few months. Her face had hardened. Her lips, blistered and torn, were set into a grave scowl. Her once expressive eyes were like marbles.
"I am glad to see you alive," Orlick said. He meant it. "The last I heard, you went after Romnuk the Rough."
"No," Rose replied, her face still hard. "We captured Romnuk. After you let him into the Castle. After you betrayed us."
Orlick bowed his head. "Forgive me, child. Romnuk may be our last hope to dispose of the Goblin King. I had to at least try."
"Well, we shared that hope but it seems we're both at a loss."
Orlick tilted his head slightly. He looked around at the forlorn parents who stood as still as the suits of armour in the halls. "Where is she?"
"She won't tell us," Ron said through a clenched jaw. "But somewhere in the Goblin Kingdom."
Orlick smiled slowly. "Incredible," he murmured.
"We need your help," Rose said, her voice strained. "We need to find Morgana. Where would she be kept?"
Orlick realised he was not here to be tried or punished. He gently pushed past Hermione Granger so he could stare squarely into the girl's face. If they were in the Goblin Kingdom and not yet executed, then they had gotten further than even he could have dreamed for himself.
"Where are you right now?"
"The royal quarters," Rose replied quietly.
Orlick could not help but raise his eyebrows.
"So they are entertaining you. What has happened with Romnuk?"
"We don't know. They separated us."
"The Goblin Kingdom is inside three peaks, where the excavated cavity of each peak forms a different conurbation of the Kingdom. The royal quarters are in the central peak, the largest ring. Morgana is kept in the lower ring. This is where the miners work. It is also where the prisoners are kept."
Orlick rubbed his pointed jaw. The sound of stubble grazed against his skin. He was trying to remember a place he himself had never even seen.
"It is known as the Pit. Once you descend into it, there is no way out."
"Are you certain Morgana is there?"
"Yes," Orlick said. "All political prisoners are kept in the Pit. They form the slave labour of our society. They won't kill Morgana so long as she can keep making them weapons."
"There's some sort of festival going on," Rose added, changing track.
Romnuk paused. He had lost all sense of time in his imprisonment, but they were now past the winter solstice. The only festival that could take place at this time of year was Enighetsdagen.
"A festival commemorating King Ragnuk the First," Orlick explained. "It marks the unification of the goblin factions and the formation of one Kingdom. We were once clans divided amongst the three peaks, but King Ragnuk united us."
"The same Ragnuk who tried to steal back the Sword of Gryffindor?" Rose asked.
Orlick sniffed. He nodded once.
She turned her head away from the mirror, filling the circular frame with her bushy red hair. A moment later a new face filled the frame. The boy who looked so much like Harry Potter, with the same green eyes and jet black hair. His face was strained beyond the glass.
"I have one more urgent question," Albus Potter said. His father leaned in towards the desk, his same green eyes fixed on the mirror. Albus continued, "How could Grigarex still be alive?"
A ripple of shock went through the room. Orlick licked his lips and flicked his dark eyes momentarily towards Harry Potter. The colour had drained from his face, leaving it as white as parchment. He remembered Harry Potter telling them so firmly that he had killed Grigarex, so disturbed by the murder that he had turned like a coward to teaching at the school instead of leading the Order.
"That's not possible," Harry breathed.
It was the first time any of the adults had spoken since Orlick's arrival.
"He's alive, a scar around his neck, but very much alive," Albus said. "Do goblins have nine lives or something?"
In spite of himself, Orlick had to grin. "No, boy. Grigarex is better prepared and better resourced than most goblins though."
He turned his eyes to Harry Potter once more, drinking in his horrified expression. "How exactly did you kill him?"
"I slit his throat," Harry choked.
"Foolish, Potter," Draco Malfoy hissed. "You didn't even check to see if he was dead."
"I used Sectumsempra!" Harry spat, rounding on Draco in sudden fury. The other man shrunk back. Despite the adornment of his pressed robes and slick, silver hair, he looked rattled. "Remember how that one goes, Draco? I watched him bleed to death in front of me."
Once again, inherited ignorance. It was not so easy to kill a goblin. They may not have the reserves of a cat, but they did not give up their lives so easily. Orlick clucked his tongue.
"I would only be able to guess," he said calmly, addressing the child in the mirror once more. "Grigarex and the King's guard carry a phial of Blood-Replenishing Potion within their armour. I would assume that when fatally struck, he played dead, waited until he was alone, and took the potion."
"But those are cursed wounds," Harry muttered through gritted teeth.
"You forget that goblins have their own magic, Mr Potter," Orlick added, still not turning from the mirror. "And that goblins are especially fond of trickery."
Albus sighed heavily. "Well, I think that's all we have time for."
"Wait," Draco cried out, trying to compose himself.
"What about Scorpius?" Astoria exclaimed, her face ashen. "Why hasn't he spoken to us at all?"
"Where is my son? Is he alright?"
"We've told you, he's fine," Albus said firmly.
"And you're sure you don't want reinforcements? We have the whole Order ready," Ginny intervened.
"No, nothing like that yet. If they think they're getting attacked, they'll kill us all," Rose's voice came from outside of the mirror's frame.
Albus was focused on Orlick, the only face he could see.
"We may need to speak with you again."
"Yes, of course," Orlick nodded. "You should know, young Mr Potter, that if you three manage to kill the King and his brother, you will one day be heralded as heroes."
"Not really our goal, but thanks."
"Albus-Al," Harry said, rushing forward. He pushed Orlick out of the way. He was beside himself, totally uncomposed. He gripped the desk. "Al, we love you, alright? All of us love you. Please, please, be safe. Whatever we can do-"
"Dad, it's all going to be okay," Albus said, soothingly. This only seemed to cause Harry Potter more pain. His brow crinkled. "We really need to go."
"Contact us again," Harry pleaded.
The mirror had returned to a mirror. It spun back Harry's pitiful expression, his wide green eyes and trembling mouth. He slowly seemed to adjust to this face until he had regained some of his composure.
"Is there any other way I can be of service?" Orlick asked politely.
Hermione Granger ran both her hands through her hair, trying to flatten the frizzy mess. She cleared her throat. "I need to have a meeting with the Norwegian Ministry of Magic immediately."
It was not customary in goblin culture to display wealth. Goblins did not wear fine robes, they did not eat off gilded dishes, they did not live in expensive dwellings. Their austerity was not a matter of fashion or due to a lack of resources, but a point of pride, principle and philosophy. Within goblin culture, no individual was above another. Neither wealth nor rank could measure superiority. The goblin King ate what his subjects ate. He wore the same armour. He was selected on merits, not blood. Until Grolhok took the throne.
Grolhok the Goblin King had fractured the centuries old custom and culture belonging to his kind. He wore gold plated armour. His robe was made of crimson velvet. His fingers were heavy with rings and his crown winked with rare gems. He wore the weight around his waist as a sign of his indulgence.
There was nothing polished about Romnuk the Rough, especially not now. In lieu of a crown on his bald head, his skull was adorned with tattoos and runes. His battle scars were now eclipsed by his missing hand. The days of torment and trekking had thinned him out. He looked worn and deranged. A feral creature with its shackles raised in the presence of a lazy, fat house cat.
"And so the traitor returns," Grolhok rumbled.
"The irony," Romnuk barked, laughing at his brother humorouslessly. It made his chained hand jingle. "You say this on the eve of Enighetsdagen. It is you who spit in the face of our finest Kings."
Grolhok's face fell. "Oh? After all the ways I tried to appease you, you still refuse to be satisfied with your lot."
Years of hatred surged through Romnuk. His lip curled in disgust.
"Ragnuk the First would have slain you on the spot," he spat, his voice grating. "You refuse to select a new King. You refuse to assess the Academy's best candidates. You refuse to be replaced."
"My time to step aside has not yet come."
"Will it ever?" Romnuk demanded.
Grolholk smiled slowly at his brother. He laid his hands around his thick belly, smiling down from his throne. Above his head, the mosaic walls told the story of Ragnuk the First. The first unifier of goblins. How Romnuk wished that he could be the last destroyer. To seen the Kingdom back into broken clans. To ensure they turn on each other, peak against peak, ring against ring, until the classes that now divided them were destroyed.
"I wanted to see it for myself," the King explained. "I grow more powerful every day. You become more deranged. Soon, you will pay for your crimes."
"You have corrupted us," Romnuk said slowly. "You have failed your own kind."
"Where is Morgana's Mallet, brother?" Grolhok asked. The question was laced with menace, a kind of poison behind the words. "Where is the hammer I entrusted you with? Was that not the bargain we struck."
"Kill me then," Romnuk spat. "Kill me!"
"Not yet," Grolhok grinned. "We have a festival to celebrate. After tomorrow, there will surely be a public execution."
"And what of the humans?"
"The humans," Grolhok replied. He gingerly touched his crown. "I am surprised they managed to come this far."
"They want you dead as much as I do."
"I wouldn't be so sure, brother," Grolhok replied. "By the sounds of things, they want you dead as well. I may win their sympathies."
"They are human."
"They come bearing gifts, I hear."
The Sword of Ragnuk flashed through his mind, rubies glittering like drops of blood. Their Sword, stolen. Could he know?
"If I do not kill you, they will," he said, certain of this.
"They are children, not assassins. This is not their battle after all. It is ours."
The sound of drums could be heard from outside of the chamber, a distant beat like a thick, thudding heart. Grolholk once more adjusted his crown. He gestured to his guards with a dismissive flick of his wrist. The guards moved forward to seize Romnuk once again.
"They will kill you!" Romnuk jeered as they dragged him away. "Even if I don't, they will kill you!"
"He has spent too much time around humans," the King chuckled. "He thinks far too highly of them. Take him away."
There once was a Kingdom, divided in three. Three mountain peaks. Three feuding siblings. It seemed the best and worst things came in threes.
The arrival of three young humans had proven that to be the case.
A/N: It's been a crazy few months - I quit my soul sucking job, and my mental health has improved considerably since then. However, this has meant I'm now working two jobs and side-hustling hard, so I haven't had much time for fanfiction.
If you want to help me out, please follow me on instagram vanscribbles, consider backing my art there and message me if you're a fan of this series - I have an IG closed friends group specifically for updates on The Revolt.
Hoping everyone is well and thanking you for your patience! Van x