The Head Goblin of Gringotts sat calmly at his desk, watching that teenage wizard with a destiny leave the room, out to confront Harry Potter's dangerous enemy for once and all. Several moments later, another Goblin came into the office.
"Are you sure we can't help him more than today?" the newcomer asked the older person at the desk giving him a very dyspeptic frown.
"No!" snapped the elder Goblin, adding further, "Not when there's the slightest chance for even bigger profits in the near future! Now, get back to work!"
"Can I at least take a little break?" the younger creature with pointed features whined, rubbing at his chin. "My whole face feels like it's one big cramp!"
Rolling his eyes with genuine exasperation, the Head Goblin finally grouched, "Fine, but it's coming out of your lunch hour!"
Thinking this over, the wizened imp admitted, "I suppose I might as well as join you in it."
Brightening up at that unexpected generosity, the younger Goblin reached with both hands to a specific part of his throat just above his collar. This action was copied by the other Goblin behind the executive desk. They simultaneously gripped with their fingers and gave a firm, upwards yank.
The office promptly became filled with an abrupt twanging noise.
"Ahhhh," sighed Donald Duck with genuine relief while massaging his now-straightened orange bill from its formerly bent-back position. Still holding in his free hand the limp full-face mask previously disguising him as a Goblin, Donald glowered at where Uncle Scrooge was also enjoying a good rubdown of his own released bill.
"Just how much longer are we going to keep up our scam?" this avian nephew wondered. "Huey, Dewey, and Louie, not to mention the rest of the Junior Woodchucks out there, are almost finished completing their Banking merit badge so you're going to have to quit this pretty soon, anyway."
Uncle Scrooge gave a rather reluctant nod of agreement, just before admitting, "Yes, yes, I know! I'll return the bank to the Goblins in about a week or so. That should cover the huge favor they owe me for the '29 crash."
Picking up his own disguise from where it'd been resting on the desktop, Uncle Scrooge then ordered Donald, "Anything else? No? Good! Get back to your teller spot and gouge with excessive fees down to their very last knut the next wizard or witch who comes in!"
Grumpily pulling his mask back on just as Uncle Scrooge was doing, Donald muttered under his breath lest their wealthy relative overhear, "Have a family holiday in England, he said. Teach the boys financial responsibility, he said. What, was his money bin a hair under the line indicating the normal three cubic acres of cash in there so my uncle desperately needed a quick infusion of funds to refill it before breaking out in hives?"