A letter came for Hermione the next day, one by a tiny, speedy owl. Her parents were mildly surprised to get a tiny owl swooping in through an open window and dropping the post on the breakfast table, but they seemed to take it in stride.
"Is that from one of your friends?" her father asked.
"I don't think so," Hermione said cautiously, opening the letter.
Hermione Granger, the letter began.
Hermione Granger,
There has been some unexpected difficulty regarding one of the loans made. Though I would prefer to shield you from such difficulties, the borrower has demanded to face you directly, and I would have to admit that he has legal claim to do so.
There is to be a trial. I would have you visit Gringotts today to help determine a time to set the trial date for that would give you enough time to prepare. In exchange for this burden on your time, I would extend the offering of an accounting of your vault, as you indicated you would desire at our last meeting.
If you would come today, I would provide you with further details in person.
Bloodthorne
Hermione passed the note to her father, who read it over before handing it to her mother.
"A trial?" her father said, raising an eyebrow. "Another one?"
"I guess this one is a civil trial?" Hermione said, shrugging. "I think that's what contract law would fall into, right?"
Her mother set the letter on the table and sighed. She examined her daughter with a sharp eye, and Hermione did her best to appear innocent and guileless.
"You may go to Diagon Alley," her mother conceded, "but only to visit the post office and Gringotts. You must come straight home afterwards, do you understand?"
"Yes! Thank you, mum! Thank you! Thank you!"
Nothing could stop Hermione's relief and happiness at being permitted to handle her own post and affairs. She knew her mother was not foreign to visiting Gringotts for her and posing as a witch, but Hermione was pleased to be trusted to do this herself, even grounded as she was.
Hermione decided on a nice black robe to wear (with her green butterfly clip, damned as she was to wear one the entire summer). The goblins wore black, and maybe also wearing black would help them take her more seriously, she hoped.
Hermione had never been to the post office in Diagon Alley before, as most people seemed to avoid it and keep their own personal owls instead. After getting directions to go to the far end of the alley, she quickly realized why it was largely avoided.
The post office was a tall, ramshackle-looking building, consisting of a shop with a large service window and an enormous amount of large bird houses with perches all stacked one upon another on top another, reaching nearly four stories high. Dozens of owls flew about, hooting and threatening each other with their claws and beaks. There was bird poop absolutely covering the ground in front of the shop and front stand, and as she approached, Hermione saw one owl regurgitate an owl pellet, which fell to the ground in the front of the shop.
Though the awning in front of the open stand of the shop was absolutely covered in bird poop, Hermione found herself grateful for it as she quickly paid the weary postal worker to send two letters, getting out of range of the bird poop as soon as she could.
Gringotts was always an imposing building, and Hermione approached it with a small smile. When she'd first entered this building, she'd been so defiant with the goblins, insisting they were tricking her with the exchange rate. Now, though, she had a working relationship with one of the goblins. It made her feel very adult.
Inside the bank, Hermione waited in a short line to get to the front, greeting the goblin with a short bow.
"I would speak with Bloodthorne," Hermione said carefully, and the goblin's eyes narrowed.
"You are Hermione of the House of Granger?" it asked.
"I am," Hermione said, her voice steady.
"Where is your sword?" the goblin demanded. Its eyes flashed. "You are not wearing your sword."
Hermione reacted with surprise.
"I would—I would not have wanted—oh, bother," she broke off. She straightened up. "In the muggle world, entering a bank with a weapon is a sign of aggression, usually indicating a robbery. I would never have wanted to offer such disrespect to you."
The goblin scoffed.
"As if a wizard could rob Gringotts," it said dismissively. Its eyes were fixed on her. "In the future, you should wear your sword. It is what the goblins would know you by."
"Understood," Hermione said, nodding. "Thank you."
With that, the goblin hopped off its stool and disappeared down a long hallway, returning in a short while with Bloodthorne in tow, who smirked upon seeing her.
"Afraid we would think you would rob us?" he said slyly, and Hermione flushed. "I would laugh, if I did not know you were in earnest."
"How was I to know?" Hermione demanded, following him down a hallway. "In the muggle world, taking a weapon into a bank is a sign of robbery. It's simply not done."
"Were Gringotts to be threatened by every weapon wizards would carry into the bank, the bank would never be open," Bloodthorne said dismissively.
"Wait, really?" Hermione said, surprised. "Wizards carry weapons around that frequently?"
"Of course. Even you," Bloodthorne said, casting a look back at her. His beady eyes met hers. "Or do you not carry a wand…?"
Hermione's eyes widened, and Bloodthorne turned back around to lead her into a conference room, the matter already dropped from his mind though, it lingered in hers.
Inside the room were a few other goblins, already there. One goblin was wearing what looked to be a sort of wig made of gold beads, while two other goblins were bickering over some parchments on the table. Bloodthorne entered the room and indicated to Hermione where she should sit, before hopping into his own seat.
"I have brought Hermione Granger," he announced. He eyed one of the other goblins coolly. "Would you be satisfied now, Moldedge?"
The goblin called Moldedge looked severely annoyed.
"I would," he said grudging, shooting a nasty look at Hermione.
"Then," the goblin wearing the golden wig announced, "we would discuss the issue at hand."
The issue at hand was apparently when to hold a trial to prosecute someone who was violating the terms of their loan contract. The goblins broke out into quick bickering, all of them snapping nastily, and it took Hermione a while to realize that they were talking about holding a trial of another goblin who was violating the terms of his loans, not a wizard.
"Wait, I thought you wanted the goblins to borrow gold?" Hermione interrupted, shooting Bloodthorne a look. "I wouldn't think you'd enact strict repayment penalties on them if you wanted them to borrow."
"I would have the goblins borrow much against your vault," Bloodthorne admitted, giving Hermione a sideways look, "but the goblin in question, Braincleave, has been violating other terms of the loan."
"He has been risking everything for the Horde with his selfishness," another goblin spat.
"He has been participating in open commerce," the other goblin said sharply. "How is that a violation?"
"If you would save the arguing for court," the goblin in the gold wig said loudly, "we would be able to set a date and prepare adequately."
The goblins argued over this fiercely. The defending goblin fought to push the trial as far out into the summer as possibly, while the Gringotts goblin was fighting for a trial to occur immediately. It was only when Bloodthorne intervened that a compromise was able to be settled upon.
"Delaying until later in July would give Hermione Granger time to learn and prepare," Bloodthorne said, reluctant. He gave Hermione a sharp look. "And she would prepare."
Hermione was smart enough to keep her mouth shut and do nothing but nod.
After a date in late July was settled upon for the start, the golden-wigged goblin and defending goblin stood, exchanging sneers with each other before leaving. The Gringotts goblin looked at Bloodthorne, and to Hermione's astonishment, he looked tired.
"It is that attitude which would ruin us all," he said to Bloodthorne. "He must be made an example of, Bloodthorne."
"I would not disagree with you, Stoneshear," Bloodthorne said, "but I would delay just enough to ensure Hermione Granger would be fully prepared to play her part."
At this, the two goblins turned to Hermione, who had been sitting very still, just watching everything play out in front of her. Stoneshear sighed.
"Hermione Granger," he said, "you are in a unique situation."
He gave her a sharp look, and Hermione swallowed.
"It certainly seems that way," she said.
"As much as Bloodthorne would speak for you, I would stay cautious," he informed her. "This trial would have you descend into the subterranean goblin hold. Wizards have not seen the hold for centuries. I would prefer them to never see it, but needs must, with this trial."
"I'll get to see the goblin civilization?" Hermione's mouth went dry. "I'll get to see your cities and your people?"
The Gringotts goblin gave her an odd look.
"You would want such a thing?" he said.
"I mean, I wouldn't want to make you uncomfortable," Hermione said hurriedly, "but it'd just be so fascinating, you know? I have no idea what your society is like! And I could see and learn this way. Maybe I could help fix things – I wouldn't want to be presumptuous, but Bloodthorne said that it was hard to fix ruins without a wand, and—"
Stoneshear cut her off with a wave of his hand, looking at Bloodthorne incredulously.
"What you would have me believe is insanity, but I would believe it," he said. "She would help?"
"She would," Bloodthorne said smugly. "She dismisses her Ministry's cruelty. She is more witch than wizard, and she would help restore us to greatness."
Stoneshear turned back to Hermione.
"You would have me believe you would want to help the Horde?" His eyes were beady, skeptical. "Why would you want to help the Horde?"
Hermione gnawed on her lip.
"Because I could?" she admitted. "I mean, Bloodthorne said that your cities are still in ruins from the last rebellion, and that's awful. If I could help make up for it, I'd want to try."
"Wizards have systematically oppressed us," Stoneshear said, folding his arms. "You would have me believe you would help us act against such oppression, against your own people?"
Hermione winced.
"I'm not part of the Ministry," she said, "and I certainly can't make up for centuries of hardship and oppression, but… maybe I can help make a small difference?" She winced. "That sounds terrible, I know. But I—I don't like seeing people suffer when I could help make things better." She looked down at the table. "And as much as Bloodthorne thought he was tricking me with the loans to goblins things, I would do the exact same thing, in his place – I would want to help restore my people however I could. Sure, my gold is helping some, but if I could help more, to improve things for you…" She shrugged. "Why wouldn't I want to help?"
Stoneshear stared at her for a long moment, then looked to Bloodthorne.
"You would stand for her?" he said, after a long moment.
"I would," Bloodthorne said very seriously.
The goblins had a stare-off for a long moment, before Stoneshear abruptly stood.
"If you would have her ready by the trial, we would stop this madness of Braincleave," he said. "If you would make sure she is ready, I would ensure the way is smooth."
"We are agreed," Bloodthorne said smugly, folding his arms, and Stoneshear nodded once and stormed out of the room.
Hermione looked at Bloodthorne, who looked smug and satisfied.
"So… I have to go to the goblin stronghold to testify for court, and the goblins are naturally suspicious of letting me inside because I'm a wizard and generally seen as the enemy?" Hermione summarized. "Honestly, I'm surprised you don't just settle out of court instead of risk a stranger seeing your society."
"It is not like that," Bloodthorne said, standing. "Braincleave's actions, left unblocked, would destabilize the entire goblin society. It is a big enough issue that we would risk taking you down. Come."
Hermione followed Bloodthorne back through the hallway.
"There are restrictions and guidelines I would have you learn before you enter the goblin hold," Bloodthorne told her. "The first: you would wear your sword everywhere you went."
"Understood," Hermione said, swallowing. "I didn't realize it was disrespectful to not wear it."
"The second: I would have you bring an offering to goblin society," he continued. "An offering would show that you would not mean us harm."
"What kind of offering?" Hermione asked. "I mean, you're already loaning out my gold…"
"Generally, an offering of food or water would show good intent," Bloodthorne told her. "It would show that you would offer us strength, with no intent to steal our strength from us."
"Food and water. Got it," Hermione said, taking mental notes. "What else?"
"The third will take longer to teach you," Bloodthorne said. "I would call you back to the bank another time to teach you, if you would learn." He glanced at her. "You are lucky; the Horde is already in your debt for using your gold to rebuild us. And your trust in us to make more gold for you has shown your trust in us, which would make it easier to trust you."
"You mean with the loans?" Hermione said, following him down the hall.
"Partially," Bloodthorne agreed, "but I would think far more is from asking us to use the stone you sent to transmute base metals into gold that shows your trust in goblins."
Hermione stopped dead in her tracks.
"I did what?" she whispered.
Bloodthorne gave her a look.
"You sent," Bloodthorne said, "through the mail, the Philosopher's Stone, with instructions. I have been following them." He sneered at her. "Are you surprised I knew what to do with it? Did you not think I was capable of buying lead and using the stone for you to increase your gold?"
"No, that's not it at all," Hermione automatically objected. "Of course you would know what to do with it. It's just… I didn't realize…"
It had just never occurred to her before. Each knowledge schema had been kept entirely separate her mind.
Schema A: Obstacle course, chess set, potions puzzle, dungeoneering pack, weird mirror, weird prize, replacement with fake prize, send treasure to bank for safe keeping. All tasks complete; close and save schema.
Schema B: Harry is going to get himself killed, Voldemort is coming, Voldemort wants to use the Philosopher's Stone to return to life, oh no, help keep her friends alive, use available tools, let Snape know, Quirrell is the suspect, ohmygod what happened, thank god that's over; close and save schema.
Hermione had used a cursory connection with her experience with the obstacles to help get her friends through. And she had vaguely known that Voldemort couldn't get the stone, because she had taken the prize.
She had never before made the full connection to actually process the fact that she actually owned the Philosopher's Stone.
And she'd sent it with an owl without a thought, with a vague line of "I trust you know what to do with this" to Bloodthorne.
Hermione started hyperventilating.
"I SENT THE PHILOSOPHER'S STONE THROUGH THE MAIL?!"
Bloodthorne shot her a sharp look and ignored her as Hermione had a brief mental breakdown, clearly indicating his opinion on such dramatics and theatrical matters.
Hermione stared.
There were piles and piles of gold coins everywhere. Literal heaps of gold, like a forbidden treasure cave. Heaps of gold taller than she was, just kept in a cave underground.
It took her a long moment to realize her jaw was hanging. Closing her mouth, she turned to Bloodthorne, who was watching in smirking amusement.
"This is—" she said. "This is a lot."
"It is." Bloodthorne didn't react.
"How did you…?" she said. "This was… how did you do this?"
Bloodthorne smirked, showing off his pointy teeth.
"I used your Philosopher's Stone," he said. "It transmutes lead to gold." He smirked nastily. "The Goblin Nation does not concern itself with matters of wizard ownership; the stone was in your possession, so it would be yours to use."
Hermione wandered her vault some, finding a small wooden pedestal with the stone sitting in the middle of her vault, the blood red stone glowing and pulsing slightly, its odd opaque glassy finish making it distinct.
"Yes, but…" She boggled. "How much did you use it? How?"
"You had 450 galleons in your vault," he informed her. "A 10-pound bar of lead costs 5 galleons."
"So that… 900 pounds of lead you could buy, in 90 bars," Hermione said, somewhat dizzily, looking at all of the gold coins. She looked back to him. "Dare I ask what the magical exchange from lead to gold produces?"
It was here Bloodthorne grinned, very nastily.
"The same cubic area of gold as there was of lead," he said. "Each bar of gold made weighed 20.9 pounds."
Hermione felt faint.
"And how many galleons to a bar?" she asked. She picked up a handful of them. "These only feel like 2oz or so."
"If galleons were pure gold, it would be 4535 galleons per bar," Bloodthorne informed her. "Galleons are not pure gold, though. Accounting for the cost of minting the gold and the purchase of silver, the other metal, for the alloy, each gold bar made results in approximately 12,500 galleons."
Hermione felt faint.
"And you did this 90 times?" she asked. "You transmuted 90 bars?"
Bloodthorne grinned nastily. "To start."
The math made her head spin.
"That's… that's 1,125,000 galleons," she said. "That… in pounds sterling, that's… that's over 5 million pounds." She looked back at Bloodthorne. "How many times did you do this?"
"To source the lead, to use the stone, and to pay for silver and wait for the coinage, it has taken about four months each time," Bloodthorne said. "And it has been thirteen months since you sent the stone."
Hermione was incredulous. "You did this three times?"
"You see now why Braincleave is a threat?" Bloodthorne said pointedly. "With your gold sitting here untouched, there would be no cause for worry. But with this amount of gold suddenly entering the marketplace, there would be massive inflation if we did not keep careful checks in place."
"So you… how did you prevent that?" she asked. "How?"
"Within the Goblin Hold, there are set prices and purchase limits," Bloodthorne explained. "Goods have set prices, and if the vendor runs out, you would wait in line or on a list until more was procured."
Hermione nodded. She'd learned a little about communism and economics in muggle history classes. "That's… to prevent demand-pull inflation…?"
"Just so." Bloodthorne scowled. "Braincleave would go to a merchant and would offer more than the listed price in secret, to subvert the community for his own personal gain. It is an affront to goblin values and would destabilize our society for his own selfishness."
"I see," Hermione said, biting her lip. "That's why he's being taken to court? To force him to stop?"
"Indeed." Bloodthorne glanced around the vault. "I had sent the nifflers down here for your accounting a week ago, but I do not see them. It is possible they would still be counting."
"You use trained nifflers for this?" Hermione exclaimed. "Oh, that's cute! Is that why there's a charge for this? So the nifflers can take some of the gold?"
"In part," Bloodthorne said. He looked at her sideways. "In part because it is a reason to take gold from wizards, too."
Hermione laughed.
"Price of commerce," she said, shaking her head. "I get it."
She wandered around the vault for a while, just looking at the heaps of gold and how far back they went. She thought she saw movement in one of the mounds, perhaps a niffler diving in and out, but she wasn't sure. She came back to Bloodthorne, shaking her head.
"Even with you making large loans to people, there's over two million galleons here," she said, shaking her head. "I have a rough idea of what I have, now – and it's way more than I was expecting – so I'm content to wait for a final total from you by mail later, if the nifflers are still counting. The rough figure I have now is good enough for me."
"I am pleased I would exceed your expectations," Bloodthorne said, his eyes glittering as he offered her a short bow. "I would want to continue to be your exclusive account manager. It has brought me great esteem, taking a chance on you."
"Yes, well, I'm glad," Hermione said. "You're excellent, Bloodthorne. I'm very glad I took a chance on you, too."
Bloodthorne's face was twisting up into an open-eyed expression, his cheekbones jutting out, a rare, genuine smile coming to his face, and Hermione smiled back at him, ignoring his many pointy teeth. Of course she was happy to have him as account manager; he'd done a spectacular job, hadn't he?
She'd come expecting to find a fortune of over or around 500 galleons, if she was lucky.
And she'd found over a thousand times that amount instead.
