Hermione Granger and the Year Hidden from Hogwarts
Harry Potter Fanfiction
Chapter 23
A/N: Another chapter! If any of you were reading my replies to reviews on AO3, you might know this was supposed to be the big reveal, however, the goblins got away from me, and now we have this elaborate underbelly that had to be explored. Honestly, it was like herding a group of cats!
April 25th, 1992
Wudrok nodded, pulling a sheet from his desk. "Of course, you would just have to sign here agreeing that one Filius Flitwick has all power and authority to speak and make decisions on your behalf as a minor until the time you are able to make such decisions on your own as an adult."
Hermione blinked. "That's it? That's the big ritual?"
The goblin gave her a gimlet look. "Do not make the mistake of underestimating Gringotts' contracts. All are legally binding and unbreakable."
"No, not that, it's just that, when you described it as a 'ritual' I thought there would be more to it than just signing my name on the dotted line."
Her attempt at levity went over the goblin's head. "Rituals have fallen to the wayside with wizardkind in recent years. We commission elves to create these documents and imbue the power of the rituals into the very fibers of the paper."
"Elves?"
"Not like the House Elves wizards would have bastardized and cursed into but a shade of their former glory. No, natural elves perform ritualistic magic second to none, and Gringotts employs the best. These need only a blood signature to activate."
There was too much to unpack in that explanation, and she swore to hurry this along. The sooner she got her hands on some books, the sooner she could stop bumbling around. She took the black quill without argument and signed, wincing at the sting and glad Flitwick had warned her about it.
He followed suit, his name below hers, and the paper glowed gold.
She felt a tickle around her wrist and desperately wanted to switch to metavision but restrained herself. It was likely the bond of the contract. If she studied witches and wizards and creatures, would they all have various tethers to one another?
Now wasn't the time to find out. She'd already blundered enough with her ignorance.
"Excellent," Wudrok beamed at the completed paper, snapping his long-nailed fingers and vanishing it off somewhere. "Now, we would move onto the main feature. The matter of your blood tests, Miss Granger."
Flitwick cleared his throat. "As Goblin Spokesperson of Granger, I would inquire if you ensure to follow proper protocol and draw up the correct nondisclosure agreement forms. Also, I would insist on a Release of History."
The first document Flitwick mentioned didn't seem to ruffle the goblin at all, in fact, it seemed to have been some sort of test that Flitwick passed with flying colors. However, the second mentioned form sent Wudrok hissing.
He spoke in grating, guttural sounds, and Hermione had to quickly spool up the translation magic to catch the end of Wudrok's shout.
"—to a witch? You would shirk our culture, but to betray the secrets of our nation in such a way is the highest form of treachery, subject to punishment!"
Her heart skyrocketed.
Flitwick kept his cool though, a contrast to the nervous, anxious wreck he'd been when they were left alone. "My nation? That is rich. Would my people accept me if I strolled into the stronghold, I would wonder? My whole life, I've never fit in one place or the other, and now you would use the very heritage that alienates me from both species to instill some sort of loyalty? No, I think not."
"That matters little. You were given goblin secrets. It would be forbidden to share them with wand-wavers."
The way he flashed his teeth on the last word made it sound like an insult of the gravest form.
"But you forget, by becoming my ward, she is considered a goblin by proxy, allowed the state secrets that are in my possession."
Wudrok shook his head. "No, the law would state—"
"The law states that any goblin descendant who signs the Spokesperson agreement, elects to take that person on as their own, to be responsible for them within the goblin nation, and to ensure that they abide by the principles. It says nothing against that person being a witch, and since I am of goblin blood, despite how you like to ignore that, then Miss Granger is, by goblin law, part of the horde. Would you like to pull out the Goblin Principles Declaration and verify?"
Wudrok gritted his teeth. "I would know the principles, half-breed."
It seemed his true colors were showing. This was someone known to be wise.
"Fine," he said at length when neither backed down. "But the avenue of knowledge would flow both ways."
"Miss Granger may volunteer information. It may not be forced from her. And to ensure there is no trickery at play, I would have it written in her contract that all requests must go through me as her Goblin Spokesperson, and that I will be present at all meetings going forward."
If looks could kill, Flitwick would've been turned into a pillar of salt. Wudrok snapped his fingers and the document returned to existence with addendums written in on the bottom, requiring them both to initial beside each provision. Once the signatures were all in order, the scroll glowed gold once more, tickling her wrist with the change to the bond.
Like a conveyer belt, one document snapped out of existence, and another replaced it.
"Your NDA's," the goblin gritted out.
There were three, and Hermione sped through them before signing. Basically, it would ensure the utmost secrecy on their behalf of anything occurring within the walls of Gringotts. That was brilliant. She signed that with a flourish, barely feeling the sting of the quill as it pulled her blood magically to use as ink.
Wudrok snapped his fingers, and when the other thing Flitwick had mentioned didn't appear in its place, Hermione frowned.
She licked her lips before pulling a stern expression. "And the Release of History." Because if it was something the wily creature wanted to avoid, then she could only assume it was good for her.
Wudrok growled but jumped down from his chair and went to an eight foot tall portrait of a goblin, dressed in dark brown breeches with a sash and matching pauldrons in sky blue to decorate his collared top. Wudrok tapped the corner of the ornately gilded frame, and the entire thing swung open like a door.
In fact, it was a door that led to a passage. "We would get approval from the horde elders for the Release of History, as you're well aware, and if not the elders, then Chief Financial Manager Gorlug will do."
Flitwick stiffened beside her as they walked down the narrow hall that seemed to be tunneled from bedrock with rough, dark walls.
She leaned over to Flitwick. "Gorlug?"
"Gorlug the Greedy, also the person in charge of Gringotts."
"He sounds pleasant," Hermione whispered just before the narrow tunnel opened up into a wide room filled with goblins, not dressed as they'd been in suits, but wearing much more common fair in Earth colors, some with leather buckles and sashes, but others with hemp rope belts and no shoes.
Flitwick paused a moment, taking in the sights.
Hermione noticed, her alarm igniting. "Professor, you've been here before, right?"
He glanced at her but didn't answer, moving after Wudrok who was beelining for yet another door at the far end of the circular room of bank tellers.
"Right?" Hermione hissed, rushing to catch up, but honestly, his nonanswer was answer enough.
They were in over their heads.
Goblins stopped and stared at them as the din of conversation died down.
Hermione felt Ignis tickle the back of her neck with her tail, and she relaxed. If all else failed, she could burn their way out of here.
She hoped.
In a mirror of the wizard side of Gringotts, for that's was this was, the place that all goblins came for their currency needs, a corridor with a series of offices led to the end where one tall, mahogany door stood, circular in design, as if they'd burrowed tunnels and matched the shape to their fixtures.
Wudrok knocked three times on the door, and an attendant answered. "We would wish an audience with Chief Financial Manager Gorlug."
The attendant snarled, about to hiss something scathing, no doubt, but then their eyes caught on their forms, hovering behind, obviously in a place where no "wand-waver" had ventured, not even one of goblin descent.
"What would be the business you seek?" the attendant demanded.
"Release of History."
The attendant shared a similar reaction to Wudrok, snarling and spitting on the floor. "On what grounds would we grant Release of History to a wand-waver?"
"On the grounds that she would be a new member of the horde."
"She would adopt a spokesperson of goblin descent, learn our laws, and speak Goblish."
The attendant gave her a sharp look. "She can speak Goblish? Fluently? No juveniles have ever learned Goblish before. That is reserved for the liaison wand-waving employees. Surely she would not speak our tongue."
Hermione cleared her throat, chafed at being discussed. "She would, actually."
"This complicates things," the attendant hissed at her, as if this was all her fault, and maybe it was.
"Be that as it may, Goblin Spokesperson of Granger insists this is necessary, and I defer to his judgement on these matters."
The attendant disappeared, slamming the door in their faces, leaving them in the dark hall lit by floating, orange orbs that cast eerie shadows in the crevices of the rough walls.
Wudrok turned and sent them a nasty grin. "I hope you know what you're doing, Goblin Spokesperson."
Flitwick shifted in front of her, squaring his shoulders. "We would have Miss Granger protected from transgressions performed by possible heirs. I know the NDA's would mean little if some long lost slight was uncovered. Goblins have a long memory."
"Goblins would have long lives," Wudrok snapped back. "Be careful you don't give yourself just enough earth to bury yourself in, half-breed."
The door opened, interrupting their heated discussion, and Hermione wasn't sure if they were leaving the frying pan for the pot.
"Chief Financial Manager Gorlug would see you now."
Inside the office, terracotta pots, bigger than the goblins themselves, decorated the walls, dug directly into the earth and overflowing with a variety of plants she'd never seen or heard of before. At odds with the earthen nature, a sharp, polished desk bigger than her parents' bed, sat in place of pride at the head of the room.
A goblin, with more cracks and wrinkles than she'd seen yet, sat behind the ostentatious piece of furniture. With his stubby arms, Hermione would be surprised if he could use even a third of the desk in question.
His eyes lit on them. "So, Pordil has not gone insane, I would see. He would speak the truth. A wand-waver would presume to apply for rank within the horde."
"No," Flitwick rushed to interject, horror washing over his face. "She would not."
Gorlug stared him down. "That is not the way I hear it."
Hermione glanced down at Flitwick. "What does that mean? To apply for rank within the horde?"
"You would have to face the Trials to earn your place. That is an old, archaic rule."
"Yes, but it would be what I require to absolve her Standing History and start afresh."
"But she's already a member of the horde, by proxy through me."
"And you would have not endured the Trials either, correct?" Gorlug countered.
"Well, no, but none of the younger blood brethren are. The ordeal was abolished when our numbers dropped too low after the last Goblin Wars."
"Wouldn't you mean Goblin Rebellions, according to your wand-waving ancestry?"
"I would not," Flitwick replied.
Gorlug slammed his fist down on the desk. "You would waste my time! This is my final ruling. You pulled full goblin principles for outsiders, and this is the consequence. Either she earns it like a goblin, or we would rule as your being a traitor and would demand your immediate incarceration!"
Flitwick looked lost, and Hermione didn't blame him. The situation had quickly spun out of control. She'd read through his goblin books forwards and backwards, and never once had she heard of any of these laws, and the books had been dated for over a century old.
They were really punishing him for trying to protect.
Eventually, Flitwick squared his shoulders, and she knew what he was about to do—fall on the sword to spare herself.
"I'll do it," Hermione cut in quickly, silencing the room. "I'll endure the Trials."
"No, Miss Granger, you don't know what you're agreeing to. We abolished the Trials because of the fatality rate and to preserve our diminishing population. You can't do this." He turned once more to Gorlug. "She's just an infant, only twelve years old."
Gorlug wasn't moved. "I would hear that's old enough to procreate for humans. We process betrothal contracts all the time through our channels for witches and wizards of these ages."
Hermione choked and coughed because that was so far beyond something she wanted discussed. Even she wasn't ready to think about those things yet.
"Not really. Most wait until after schooling finishes in another six years. She doesn't even posssess a wand."
"And if she would, I would forbid it. None of our goblin ancestors were allowed tools apart from a sword and their bare hands."
"Goblins have thick skin, and claws, and teeth!"
Gorlug ground out, leaning forward. "I don't think you realize the full severity of your transgressions, but you will. This is my ruling, and since your ward has already spoken her agreement, the matter is settled."
"I am her Goblin Spokesperson."
"And as we stated, you have not endured the Trials yourself, and are therefore not a fully-fledged goblin to throw your weight around."
"Then we will leave!"
Gorlug grinned a terrifying, predatory smile. "It is too late for that. You have already exposed her to our secrets and therefore, one of you will pay."
Flitwick straightened. "I will fight in her stead."
"Perhaps you would, but the point still stands. We would need proof of character of the wand-waver you so carelessly spilled our innermost secrets too. The girl would fight!"