Jean spared a questioning glance in Sirius' direction and only once he had nodded in silent confirmation, did she clamber into one of the seats that hung laterally off of the side of the cart, where it sat snuggled between the oversized pinwheels on the left. There were no physical restraints—like seatbelts or bars—to keep them in place, but Jean knew (logically) that there were wards upon enchantments on the contraption to do just that. But it didn't help her nerves nor her fear of heights.
"Keep your limbs inside the cart if you don't wish to lose them" Griphook chuckled as he plopped himself down in the driver's seat, the steering stick clasped tightly between his gnarled digits. And then they were off. At first they just hurtled through a maze of twisting passages, past stalagmites and stalactites, over canyons and under arches. But soon enough, the cold began to bite at their flesh as they went deeper and deeper into the bank
Jean's hands clenched themselves into the legs of her jeans as they twisted about, the wheels of the cart dancing over their heads as they twirled along the tracks. She was sure that if she pried her hands free, then there would be the perfect imprints of her sweaty palms in the worn denim. The witch had always hated heights and roller coaster rides; something, she was sure, was born of years with her thrill-seeking grandfather who adored such things and had forced her to participate whenever they visited the beach or the Pier. Actually, when she thought about it, it wasn't too dissimilar to that time they'd hijacked Hogwarts' thestrals and ridden them into London; at least this time around she'd be able to see them, so it might not be as scary.
In any case, Jean tried her best to occupy her mind with literally anything else other than her roiling stomach; like memorising the path in which they had taken thus far: left, right, right, left, middle fork, right, left…But it was impossible to keep up with how fast they were going and the horizon line refused to stay still, so she couldn't focus on that, either. A quick glance over at their guide showed a goblin who looked far too relaxed to be driving; a fact that seemed to prove itself, when the cart took another turn and Griphook sat there, not steering at all.Something about that didn't do anything good for her nerves.
There were no room for thestrals up in front and they had been moving too erratically for this to be a horse-drawn carriage—besides which, she would've been able to see them, this time around—which only left any number of enchantments used to guide such things. It was incredible to think that the magical realm had invented self-driving vehicles several decades before the muggles had even thought of the idea. Though, that thought did little to assuage her fears either.
Sirius, who had been enjoying the ride, spared a teasing glance over at the nervous little witch. "You all right there, kitten?"
Jean, who had paled considerably by that point, grinned shakily back at him. "It's…it's like a rollercoaster!"
"A rollercoaster?" Sirius questioned, brow furrowed in puzzlement. "What's that?"
"It's a muggle contraption; a carnival attraction, really" She replied, happy to be distracted by something. "You get strapped into this little cart and you ride around on the tracks in loop-de-loops and pitfalls. Its really fast and the drops are really high up! Dad's favourite was always the Cyclone, down at the Pier. At least until it was shut down after a couple of kids died on it when it broke down"
"Are they really that dangerous?"
"Well, they're muggle contraptions, so there's no enchantments to keep you in. Just seatbelts and safety bars"
"I see" The wizard hummed in thought. "And what was your favourite ride?"
Jean thought about it for a moment as the cart dipped beneath an archway, before coming up with her answer. "I like the ferris wheel"
"Hm"
The conversation dulled after that, lulling into a somewhat comfortable silence as Jean watched the vaults zip past at nauseating speeds. Her eyes stung as the cold air rushed past them, but she fought to keep them open, nonetheless. As they rounded one corner, Jean could've sworn that she had seen a burst of dragonfire peeking out from the depths of the cavern, but it was gone just as quickly as it had appeared. They plunged deeper still, gathering speed as they went and passing underneath an underground lake where huge stalactites & stalagmites erupted from both the ceiling and the floor.
The air became colder and colder as they journeyed further into the earth, hurtling around tight corners so fast that Jean was worried she was going to be flung out of her seat. They were rattling passed a series of lantern-lit vaults when Jean piped up again. "How many vaults are there in Gringotts?"
"There are hundreds and all manned by goblins, of course" Griphook replied, puffing up his chest in pride. "In fact, you'll see quite a few of them on our way to vault number three hundred & twenty-five. As we speak, we're just beneath the atrium; these vaults that you see now, are the newest of the lot"
"Do you build new ones for new patrons or do they just get an empty one?" Jean asked. She'd always been curious about that, but never thought to ask before.
"Huh" Sirius muttered to himself, "Never thought about that" And he hadn't. As a (former) scion of the Black family, he'd always just taken his coin from the Black family vaults. At least until he had been disowned and then what little fortune he did have, was added to the Potter family vaults, at the behest of the current patriarch at the time.
"It depends on the estimated muggle intake for that year" Griphook replied as if he were talking about stocks instead of people. "But generally, new ones are built for the newest patrons"
"Oh" Jean hummed, a little at loss for what to say. Griphook had never really been the most…chatty of people.
"Not that you'll need to worry about that"
"…Right"
And again, all was quiet, at least until the Thief's Downfall was in their sights. "You'll want to take a breath"
"A what?" Jean puzzled, brows furrowed in confusion. But she shouldn't have asked, for no sooner had she opened her mouth, did she find herself hacking up mouthfuls of cold water as they zipped through the waterfall. She'd forgotten how cold it could be. "What was that?!"
"The Thief's Downfall" Griphook chuckled mercilessly as he took great pleasure in the witch's discomfort before she dried herself off. "It washes away all enchantments and it can be deadly"
"It's a security measure" Sirius further explained. "Its s'posed to alert the security team upstairs, of any possible robbery attempts"
"Have you experienced the Thief's Downfall before?" Jean asked, silently recalling her own stomach-dropping experience with the waterfall.
"I've…heard about it" Sirius replied hesitantly, though his words indicated that there was some sort of story there; one that he refused to talk about.
"The Thief's Downfall protects the lower vaults" Griphook grunted, "Where the more…upstanding families tend to keep their fortunes"
Jean turned to Griphook. "How deep are we going?"
"The Foreigners Department where your vault lies, is further in" Griphook grunted, "Vault number three hundred & twenty-five was commissioned shortly after the department was constructed. It resides further into the bank because most foreigners tend to keep their fortunes offshores, in counterpart vaults. These, are therefore left alone most days"
"A-ah"
"Best settle in, witch, we've a way's yet to go"
Between this breath and the next, the cart pulled to a slow and gentle stop outside of the wrought iron gates that guarded the Foreigners Department, separating it from the rest of the bank. There were still more—older—vaults further into the bank, but they lay on the path that forked right instead of left, where they had gone. The goblin guardsman who greeted them was a surly fellow dressed in the gold & scarlet uniform of the bank, with impressive sideburns that framed his face and a squat bowler hat upon his crown.
He held out a hand, signalling for them to stop before the gates. "Vault number?" He grumbled, suspicious eyes sweeping over Griphook and narrowing on the two mages perched on the side of the cart.
"Vault three hundred & twenty-five" Griphook replied as Jean shared a look with Sirius, unsure if she should reply or not.
"Hmmm…" The guardsman grumbled as he opened the gate and waved them on. "On your way"
When they passed through the gates and continued down the track, it was at a much more sedate pace than before; something, for which, Jean was immensely grateful for. Maybe, if they continued like this, she could calm her stomach before it decided it would be a good idea to climb up her oesophagus. Still, it intrigued her to note that no sooner had they passed through the gates, did the guardsman disappear from view. She didn't know where he was going or what he was doing, only that a brief glimpse through the stalagmites showed him in his own—smaller—cart as it headed further down.
"What are you doing…?" Jean murmured to herself, brows furrowed in confusion.
"What are you gibbering about?" Griphook asked, interrupting the witch's musings.
Jean flinched slightly at the call out. "Oh, uh, I was just wondering about that goblin back there. What does he do?"
"The guardsman?" Griphook hummed, "He watches over the European division in this sector of the Foreigners Department. It's rare that anyone comes here, anymore. As I said, most mages keep their fortunes in local banks instead of ones, offshore"
"Ah"
Soon enough, the cart pulled to a stop alongside the platform that led to a line vaults. Jean, who was admittedly still a little wobbily, disembarked from the cart at last and followed after Sirius to an oblong door embedded in the rock wall. It took her a great effort to keep her knees from trembling and, no, she did not grab onto Sirius' sleeve in an effort to stay upright. She was just…apprehensive about the security measures that might be placed on the vault. That sounded believable, right?
"Here we are" Griphook grumbled as he fished out the key for the vault. "Vault three hundred & twenty-five"
"Hm" Jean hummed, her eyes grazing over the bronze numbers engraved into the plaque above the door, itself. The number for the Dagworth-Granger family vault was, consequently, the general area code for Luxembourg. Maybe that's why it was that number? To make it easier to sort through the vaults in the foreign department? It was kind of like the Dewey Decimal System in a library or a postal code in a mail room.
Slotting the tiny key into the equally tight hole, the goblin unlocked the door. Like the cogs on a clock, the mechanisms on the door unwound themselves before a great click was heard and the door swung open. Out billowed great green clouds of smoke and, after it cleared, Jean couldn't help but gasp at what she saw inside. Mountains of treasure didn't even begin to cover it; apparently that's what it meant to belong to a house like the Dagworth-Grangers.
Her eyes roved, drinking up every inch of the interior of the old vault. Shelves and alcoves were filled with all manner of dusty scrolls, misshapen jewellery and, of course, coins. There were columns of silvery Sickles stacked to the left, helpings of little bronze Knuts piled high in copper cauldrons and baskets were filled with shiny golden Galleons. Great silky curtains of spider webs and blankets of dust bunnies decorated it all.
"W-when—ahem!—when was the last time this vault was opened?" Jean coughed as she pushed her way through the wall of webs, silently thanking the powers that be that she didn't have the same aversion to spiders that Ron did.
"That would be the when the alchemist, Constance Dagworth, was last in the isles" Griphook replied as he stood to the side. "I should think"
"Impressed?" Sirius grinned cheekily at her gobsmacked expression.
Jean nodded absently, eyes wide at the treasures untold. "Uh huh"
"And it's all yours…for now, anyway" Sirius continued, shooing the witch towards the closest sagging bench. "For now, anyway. There's no telling if there's any other Dagworth-Grangers running around the isles"
Sirius helped Jean pile some of the coins into a bag, explaining what each one meant along the way. Just because she was a (supposed) time traveller, didn't mean she could use a refresher and who knows, they probably didn't even use stuff like coins for money in the future, he reasoned. Shame for the goblins, that'd put them right out of business.
"The gold ones are called Galleons, the silver ones are Sickles and the bronze ones are Knuts. Its seventeen Sickles to a Galleon and twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle; it's easy enough." He explained, shovelling a handful of the aforementioned coins into her awaiting coin purse. "Right, that should be enough for now. The rest'll stay safe in here, don't you worry"
Jean nodded in agreement as she pulled the purse strings taut. "Okay"
One wild cart ride later and they were back on the surface, blinking rapidly in the sun-lit alley, outside of Gringotts. Jean didn't know where to run to first, now that she had a bag full of money. She didn't have to recall the conversion between pounds & Galleons to know that she was holding more money than she had in a while and it was already burning a whole in her pocket, begging to be used.
And it would be, soon enough.