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[Marvel's Hogwarts Professor] Chapter 466 - 470
🕑 Added 2025-01-27 01:00:01 +0000 UTCChapter 466
Buzz!
A wave of oppressive magical energy blanketed Gringotts, rippling outward in a vast pulse that caught the attention of everyone nearby. Wizards walking through Diagon Alley stopped in their tracks, heads tilting skyward as a surreal image began to materialize against the clouds.
The projection displayed a breathtaking landscape: sprawling grasslands, towering peaks, and shimmering structures surrounded by strange and fantastical creatures. The sight was both mesmerizing and unnerving.
“The dream world…” someone whispered, awe tinged with fear.
Not far away, Cornelius Fudge stood frozen, his jaw slack as he took in the scene. Shock quickly morphed into a cocktail of emotions—fear, awe, and finally, a burning desire.
This is the power of the dream world, he thought, his mind racing.
Though the prototype dream world in his possession was still rudimentary, Fudge’s ambitions soared. If harnessed correctly, it could rival the strength and influence of Kamar Taj. The image above him represented more than a mystical domain; it was a weapon, one that could reshape the wizarding world.
His thoughts flickered briefly to Hogwarts. He recalled visiting shortly before Dumbledore’s departure for America, only to find the school’s dream seed already in use. The spiritual imprints and oceans of the young wizards had been fully integrated—a clear sign that Dumbledore and McGonagall were leveraging the dream world for training.
What a strategic advantage, Fudge mused bitterly. And now Kamar Taj is doing the same.
In Fudge’s eyes, the dream world was no different from a Muggle nuclear weapon: a tool of unparalleled influence and destruction. Mastery over it could ensure his re-election as Minister of Magic—or even greater power.
But these thoughts were abruptly interrupted.
A sudden tremor of spiritual energy spread through the air, resonating with an unrelenting intensity. Fudge felt it ripple through his body as a crisp female voice echoed, clear and commanding:
“In the name of Principal Karma Taj Lockhart! The vault is opened, and the property is recalled!”
Deep beneath Gringotts
In the bank’s cavernous underground vaults, a colossal Ukrainian Iron Belly dragon stirred. Its enormous body was chained to the central platform, its once-pristine gray scales dulled and its eyes clouded with a pale pink hue from years of captivity.
Despite its weakened state, the dragon’s ferocity remained evident. Its nostrils flared, releasing jets of white steam, and its massive, spiked wings trembled as it sensed a disturbance.
Roar! Roar!
The dragon’s deafening bellows echoed through the chamber as it thrashed against its bindings. Chains rattled violently, the metallic clangs reverberating through the underground depths.
Goblins stationed near the dragon exchanged alarmed glances, their panic mounting as they noticed a nearby vault beginning to tremble.
“Captain! That’s Kamar Taj’s treasury!” one goblin shouted, his voice quivering. “What’s happening?”
The goblin captain’s expression betrayed his unease. He didn’t have answers, only the sinking realization that things were spiraling out of control.
The dragon’s roars intensified, its eyes fixed on the trembling vault.
Boom!
A thunderous crash silenced the chaos momentarily as the massive door of Kamar Taj’s vault began to twist and buckle. A crack split through its center, jagged and wide enough for a person to pass through.
Suddenly, golden light poured out in dazzling waves. Hundreds of thousands of gold galleons spilled forth, a radiant cascade of wealth. The coins flowed like a river, streaming upward toward the surface as if summoned by an unseen force.
The goblins could only watch, their jaws slack with disbelief.
“It’s like the gold itself is alive,” one whispered, unable to tear his eyes away.
The air was thick with the scent of metal and magic, the golden torrent winding its way through the labyrinthine depths of Gringotts.
Above ground, the magical pressure in the marble hall was suffocating. Wizards and goblins alike recoiled, their hearts pounding under the overwhelming spiritual force radiating from Wanda and the Kamar Taj wizards.
Wanda stood at the center of the room, her hands glowing crimson as she chanted her spell. The aura surrounding her was both terrifying and awe-inspiring, her words resonating like a choir of voices:
“In the name of Principal Karma Taj Lockhart! The vault is opened, and the property is recalled!”
The hall trembled as the golden river burst into view, flowing from the depths of Gringotts to the ground before Wanda and her companions. The sheer volume of gold was staggering.
A moment later, the coins coalesced, forming a massive golden fairy that stood tall and imposing, glimmering with an almost divine radiance. Wizards and goblins stared, their mouths agape, as the golden construct shimmered in the dim light.
The sight ignited greed in the hearts of many, but no one dared act. The oppressive magic emanating from Kamar Taj’s wizards kept everyone firmly in place.
The golden river continued to flow, depositing a staggering pile of gold galleons at Wanda’s feet. The mountain of coins grew until it occupied nearly half the hall, its dazzling brilliance casting a golden glow across the room.
Ian stepped forward, his wand moving in deliberate arcs. Dark blue magical lines spread across the golden mountain, forming a protective barrier as the spell sealed the pile.
The hurried clatter of footsteps broke the heavy silence. Goblin Supervisor Stout arrived, his face pale and drenched with sweat. He had seen the spectacle unfold and understood immediately that the situation was beyond salvageable.
“Mr. Ian, Ms. Wanda,” he began, his voice trembling slightly, “what is the meaning of this? Surely there’s been some misunderstanding. Could we not resolve this amicably?”
His words were carefully chosen, but the panic in his tone betrayed him.
Ian turned to face him, his expression cold and unyielding. The magical pressure in the room intensified, and Ian’s voice rang out, sharp and commanding:
“Director Stout, Karma Taj demands an explanation.”
Stout froze as Ian’s piercing gaze bore into him.
“Why,” Ian continued, his tone like ice, “do you claim there are 300,000 gold galleons in Kamar Taj’s vault, yet before me, I see only 140,000?”
Chapter 467
“This… this…”
The goblin who had previously exuded an air of authority now hesitated, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. His panic was evident, and despite his best efforts, he couldn’t muster an explanation that would appease the icy gaze fixed on him.
“Director Stout,” Ian’s voice cut through the marble hall of Gringotts like a blade, sharp and unyielding. “Kamar-Taj requires an explanation.”
The weight of his words was palpable, each syllable adding to the oppressive atmosphere that now blanketed the grand hall. The marble pillars and polished floors seemed to amplify the tension, as if the very structure of Gringotts was holding its breath.
Under Ian’s command, the room was suffused with a suffocating pressure, one that pressed down on everyone present. It was a force that not only chilled the air but carried a dangerous, almost feral killing intent. The kind of intent that promised swift and merciless retribution.
Ian wasn’t alone. Behind him stood Wanda and several other Kamar-Taj wizards, each of them battle-hardened and unyielding. They weren’t here for mere theatrics. The wizards Ian had chosen for this mission were seasoned fighters, individuals who had faced death and emerged victorious.
The goblins could feel it—the cold, sharp edge of the killing intent emanating from the wizards. It wasn’t just a threat; it was a promise. Every goblin present felt as though a blade, honed to a deadly edge, was hovering inches from their skin. The unspoken understanding was clear: if a satisfactory explanation wasn’t provided, that blade would strike without hesitation.
Stout’s lips quivered as he stammered, “We… we didn’t mean for this to happen.” His voice was barely above a whisper, his fear evident in every syllable. He stood frozen, not daring to make the slightest movement, lest it trigger an attack.
For all their cunning and greed, goblins had one undeniable weakness—they valued their lives above all else.
Ian’s voice rang out again, cold and commanding. “Tell me why 160,000 gold Galleons are missing from Kamar-Taj’s treasury.”
Stout flinched, his hesitation drawing the collective ire of the room. The oppressive silence grew heavier, the air thick with unspoken threats. Even the wizards and witches who had been conducting their business in Gringotts began to sense the danger. Many quietly exited the hall, while others shrank into the shadows, unwilling to draw attention to themselves.
This wasn’t just a confrontation—it was a statement. Kamar-Taj was establishing its authority in the magical world.
For Ian, this display was deliberate. It wasn’t just about recovering the missing funds; it was about cementing Kamar-Taj’s reputation. Gringotts, with its history of greed and opportunism, was the perfect stage for this demonstration.
A low murmur spread through the remaining crowd, only to be silenced by the sound of hurried footsteps.
“Apologies! Deepest apologies!”
The voice belonged to Harmon, an elder goblin of Gringotts, who approached with haste. Behind him marched a squad of red-clad goblin guards, their muscular arms gripping short, rune-carved staffs.
The wizards standing behind Ian reacted immediately, their movements precise and practiced. Wands were discreetly lowered, replaced instead by shimmering silver swords. Each blade was engraved with golden runes, radiating an aura of power. The wizards positioned themselves strategically, their swords poised for combat.
The room grew tense once more, the fragile truce hanging by a thread. Harmon hesitated briefly, his expression betraying his unease, before adopting a calm demeanor. He raised his hands in a gesture of peace and spoke in a conciliatory tone.
“Mr. Ian,” he began, his voice carefully measured, “I am Harmon, an elder of Gringotts. Please, let us not escalate this situation further. Gringotts has always maintained a cooperative relationship with Headmaster Lockhart of Kamar-Taj. Surely, we can resolve this misunderstanding amicably.”
Ian’s piercing gaze did not waver, but he allowed Harmon to continue.
“Supervisor Stout,” Harmon turned sharply toward the trembling goblin, his tone now scolding. “What is the meaning of this? Explain yourself immediately! Have you forgotten the partnership we share with Headmaster Lockhart and Kamar-Taj?”
Stout, whether out of fear or calculated theatrics, began to weep openly. “Elder Harmon, I… I don’t know what happened. The funds seemed to have vanished. When the wizards from Kamar-Taj demanded the return of their gold, I used magic to expedite the process, but something went wrong. That’s why they think the Galleons are missing.”
Harmon sighed, his expression one of forced patience, before turning back to Ian. “Mr. Ian, if this is indeed a misunderstanding caused by procedural delays, I deeply regret any inconvenience caused to Kamar-Taj. However, I must ask—was it truly necessary to resort to such… forceful measures? This could have a lasting impact on Gringotts’ operations.”
Ian remained silent for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly. Then, in a measured tone, he responded, “Elder Harmon, this isn’t a misunderstanding. Headmaster Lockhart himself authorized this operation after our divinations revealed significant losses from our Gringotts account. The directive was clear: retrieve all assets and investigate any irregularities. Any resistance was to be met with decisive action.”
To emphasize his point, Ian produced a piece of yellowed parchment, its edges frayed but its contents unmistakably official. He handed it to Harmon, his expression unreadable.
“This is an investigation order, authorized by the Ministry of Magic under Law No. 42,” Ian explained. “When a wizard’s property suffers unexplained losses, they are entitled to apply for such an order and recover their assets by any means necessary. It is signed by Minister Fudge himself.”
Harmon’s eyes scanned the parchment, his fingers trembling slightly as he read the familiar signature. The weight of the situation was not lost on him.
Ian’s voice grew colder. “Elder Harmon, Kamar-Taj demands full cooperation from Gringotts in uncovering the cause of these losses. According to our calculations, 160,000 Galleons are unaccounted for. This is non-negotiable.”
Chapter 468
“This… this…”
Faced with Ian’s commanding tone and the harsh ultimatum detailed on the parchment, Elder Harmon instinctively wanted to refuse. Yet, as he opened his mouth to protest, no suitable reason came to mind. He found himself trapped, unable to muster a defense that wouldn’t escalate the already tense situation.
The goblins weren’t prepared for war—not now, not against Kamar-Taj.
“Harmon,” Ian said, his voice cutting through the tense atmosphere, “don’t forget where you stand. This is the wizarding world, and goblins have always been subordinate to the will of wizards.”
Ian didn’t bother with formalities. Addressing the elder by name, his words were sharp and deliberate, aimed at breaking Harmon’s composure. Ian hoped the provocation would push the goblin leader to act rashly—perhaps even issue a command to his subordinates. That would give Ian and the Kamar-Taj wizards the justification they needed to retaliate.
The apprentices standing behind Ian watched the unfolding confrontation with wide eyes. For many of them, this was their first taste of Kamar-Taj’s might displayed so boldly. In their hearts, a sense of pride and loyalty swelled. To them, Kamar-Taj wasn’t just a mystical sanctuary; it was a force to be reckoned with, commanding respect and awe from the magical world.
To the younger wizards, Kamar-Taj stood as an unshakable pillar of power, inspiring a shared mentality: Kamar-Taj is first, and I am second. The events unfolding before them were nothing short of exhilarating.
“Mr. Ian,” Harmon said finally, his expression unreadable but his tone measured. “Rest assured, Gringotts may not fully understand the nature of the events affecting Kamar-Taj’s vault, but we will cooperate fully to resolve the matter.”
Despite his calm facade, Ian could sense the rage bubbling beneath the surface of the goblin elder’s words. Harmon’s fists clenched subtly, his nails digging into his palms as though he imagined Ian’s face there instead. Yet, the elder’s forced smile remained—a mask of civility concealing his fury.
Harmon knew better than to escalate matters further. Gringotts could not afford to openly challenge Kamar-Taj. The conflict needed to be contained, focused solely on the issue at hand. Expanding it to involve the Ministry of Magic or Hogwarts would be disastrous.
At the entrance of the reception hall, a familiar figure stood silently, observing the scene with a mixture of interest and disdain—Dolores Umbridge.
She remained still, her beady eyes flickering as she processed the confrontation. Despite her curiosity, she refrained from intervening. Minister Fudge’s instructions had been clear: observe, document, but avoid involvement unless absolutely necessary.
From her vantage point, it was apparent that the minister was aware trouble would brew at Gringotts today. Rumors suggested Fudge was nearby, likely watching from a safe distance.
Ian, noticing Umbridge’s presence, didn’t allow his focus to waver. He turned his gaze back to Harmon, his expression cool and indifferent.
“If that’s the case, Elder Harmon,” Ian said, his voice devoid of warmth, “then let’s begin. Tell me what information you have. Why are over 160,000 gold Galleons missing from Kamar-Taj’s vault?”
Ian’s words carried a calculated intent. He wanted to escalate the situation, to force Gringotts into the spotlight and make their shortcomings known.
Harmon recognized this ploy immediately and countered with a placating tone. “I’m afraid Gringotts isn’t aware of the specifics behind Headmaster Lockhart’s divinations,” he said, shaking his head. “Perhaps we should inspect Kamar-Taj’s vault directly to uncover the truth of the matter.”
Pausing as if struck by a sudden thought, Harmon added, “Ah, there is one thing you may not be aware of, Mr. Ian. To prevent unauthorized access, Gringotts employs an anti-theft waterfall. It’s a powerful enchantment that can weaken or nullify magic entirely. Could it be possible that the recall spell was disrupted by this enchantment, resulting in an incomplete transfer of assets?”
The elder goblin’s words were carefully chosen, redirecting the blame back onto Kamar-Taj’s aggressive tactics. Harmon’s expression remained neutral, but his tone carried the faintest hint of satisfaction.
Ian’s eyes narrowed, recognizing the elder’s attempt to shift responsibility. Internally, he acknowledged the misstep in relying too heavily on brute force, but outwardly, he remained calm and collected.
“Elder Harmon,” Ian said, his voice dripping with feigned understanding, “your explanation is… intriguing. But surely, this can be resolved by simply inspecting the vault, can’t it?”
With that, Ian cast a pointed glance toward Umbridge, who had been silently observing the exchange. Though reluctant, she stepped forward, her expression stiff and her movements deliberate.
“Elder Harmon,” Umbridge said with her characteristic saccharine tone, “I must agree with Mr. Ian. Inspecting the vault seems the most logical course of action. Surely, we all want to resolve this misunderstanding as quickly and peacefully as possible.”
While her words seemed neutral, it was clear she was aligning herself with Kamar-Taj. As much as she loathed being dragged into this, the Ministry of Magic had its own interests in the matter.
Harmon’s composure faltered slightly, the corners of his mouth twitching in barely concealed frustration. Still, he nodded and forced a smile. “Very well. Let’s proceed to Kamar-Taj’s vault. The truth will undoubtedly come to light.”
Turning to Supervisor Stout, Harmon issued a curt order. “Lead the way, and ensure everything is handled with the utmost care.”
Stout nodded hurriedly, gesturing for the group to follow him into the depths of Gringotts.
The descent into the underground passages was as dark and foreboding as ever. Despite the torches lining the walls, the flickering light did little to dispel the oppressive gloom.
When they reached the trolley station, it was clear that preparations had been made. A row of carts waited on the tracks, their metal frames gleaming dimly in the torchlight.
Stout barked a few commands, and several goblin drivers scurried forward, their simple attire contrasting sharply with the tension in the air.
Ian, Wanda, and the other Kamar-Taj wizards stepped into the carts with practiced ease.
As the carts sped along the tracks, the wind howled through the tunnels, causing Umbridge and her Aurors to clutch the handles tightly for stability. In stark contrast, the wizards of Kamar-Taj stood tall and unshaken. Their golden robes fluttered lightly, and faint auras of protective magic surrounded them.
The magical equipment they wore was a testament to Kamar-Taj’s wealth and craftsmanship. From enchanted boots to shimmering defensive shields, every item exuded power and sophistication.
The goblin drivers couldn’t help but glance at the wizards with a mix of envy and greed. To them, the wizards of Kamar-Taj weren’t just formidable—they were the dream.
Chapter 469
Whoosh! Whoosh!
The sound of rushing air filled the underground tunnels as the trolley bumped and rattled along the tracks, speeding toward its destination. The wind whipped against the passengers’ faces, though it seemed to have no effect on the Kamar-Taj wizards. Cloaked in magical equipment, their movements remained steady and unaffected, as if the chaotic ride was nothing more than a gentle glide.
As the trolley began to slow, Ian raised his gaze. Up ahead, a shimmering waterfall of prismatic light cascaded from the ceiling, its ethereal glow illuminating the dark passage. The sight was mesmerizing, but Ian’s sharp focus remained unwavering.
A goblin’s nasally voice broke the spell of the moment. “Dear wizards, what you see before you is the Anti-Thief Waterfall,” the goblin explained, its tone carrying a mix of pride and warning. “This enchantment nullifies all disguises, stealth spells, and magical concealments. Any such magic cannot withstand its power and will be rendered completely ineffective. For your safety, please refrain from casting any spells in its vicinity to avoid potential backlash.”
The goblin’s gaze shifted pointedly toward the Kamar-Taj wizards, their equipment gleaming faintly in the dim light. With an almost grudging tone, he added, “Master wizards, I must caution you: if you wish to avoid the waterfall’s interference, I suggest you remove your magical gear. The enchantment is highly sensitive to all magical artifacts.”
The goblins from Gringotts and the Aurors from the Ministry of Magic turned their attention to Ian, Wanda, and the other Kamar-Taj wizards. Their eyes lingered on the shimmering magical equipment adorning the wizards, the faint glow of enchantments betraying their immense power.
Wanda, standing tall at Ian’s side, broke the silence with a calm, clear voice. “It’s fine,” she said, her tone reassuring. “Keep moving forward.”
Harmon, the elder goblin leading the group, narrowed his eyes slightly at her words but chose to remain silent. The goblins behind him, however, seemed to relax their grips on the cart as if they had anticipated some disruption.
The trolleys pressed on, speeding toward the luminous Anti-Thief Waterfall.
Whoosh!
Even before they reached the magical cascade, the sound of rushing water echoed through the tunnel like a torrential downpour. Yet, strangely, there was no moisture in the air—no mist, no humidity, only the otherworldly sound of the waterfall’s flow.
As they approached the Anti-Thief Waterfall, all eyes turned toward the Kamar-Taj wizards, eager to witness how their magic-infused presence would fare against the enchantment. The goblins, in particular, seemed almost eager to see the wizards stumble. Their envy of the wizards’ power and wealth was palpable.
But Wanda’s response was far from what they expected.
With a slight motion, she raised her hands, her fingers spreading gracefully. A deep crimson light began to emanate from her, swirling outward like strands of silk. The oppressive darkness of the tunnel shifted as the light expanded, engulfing everything in its path.
The air grew thick with power, and the underground space seemed to transform before their eyes. The tunnel’s walls, the rails, the carts—all of it turned red. Even the cascading Anti-Thief Waterfall was consumed, its radiant colors replaced by a deep crimson hue.
The wizards and goblins looked around in awe and fear, realizing that their surroundings had become something entirely different.
This was no ordinary spell.
Wanda had summoned the Dream World.
Through her innate magical talent to manipulate probability, Wanda brought forth a realm where dreams replaced reality. Here, the rules of the physical world held no sway, and everything—life, death, power—was under her control. In this domain, she was a god.
Developed by Lockhart specifically for Wanda, this magic was notoriously complex, even for the most experienced wizards. For Wanda, however, it came naturally. Her ability to influence probability turned even the most intricate spell into an effortless act.
As the Dream World enveloped them, the once-bumpy ride smoothed out, and the howling wind fell silent. It felt as if they had transitioned from a rough dirt path to a polished highway.
The Anti-Thief Waterfall, now entirely crimson, seemed frozen in time. The rushing cascade of water had stopped mid-flow, each droplet suspended in the air like glimmering rubies. The entire waterfall resembled an enormous sheet of silk, stretching across the underground expanse.
The cart slowed to a crawl, allowing everyone to take in the surreal sight. As they reached the base of the waterfall, the suspended crimson water began to move—upward. Defying gravity, the cascade reversed its flow, parting in the middle to reveal a gaping hole.
The trolley passed through the opening, leaving the waterfall behind.
As the crimson light faded, the tunnel returned to its original state. The earthy yellow hues of the walls and the metallic gleam of the rails reappeared, and the howling wind resumed its haunting melody.
The transition was seamless, yet no one present could ignore the profound display of power they had just witnessed.
Harmon, Umbridge, the Aurors, and the goblins all stared at Wanda as if she were a creature from another world.
A monster.
To see such magic performed by someone so young was beyond comprehension. If Dumbledore or Grindelwald had conjured the scene, it would have been extraordinary but not entirely unexpected. But this girl, barely twenty years old, had achieved something that defied all reason.
Ian, standing nearby, couldn’t hide the admiration in his eyes. He sighed deeply, a tinge of envy creeping into his expression.
“This is talent,” he muttered under his breath.
It was no wonder Master Lockhart had chosen Wanda as his personal disciple. Her potential was unmatched, her gifts terrifying. Ian believed he could one day stand on equal footing with her, but for now, Wanda was in a league of her own.
Lockhart’s decision to grant her partial authority over the Dream World had created a synergy between her talent and its immense power. In a short span of time, Wanda had risen to become one of Kamar-Taj’s strongest wizards.
Even if Lockhart were absent, Wanda alone could defend the foundation of Kamar-Taj. This display of power was a message to their allies and enemies alike: Kamar-Taj was not to be trifled with.
As the group pressed onward, the tunnel widened, and a massive platform came into view. Surrounding it were rows of vaults, each sealed behind heavily fortified doors.
But what truly commanded attention was the enormous creature at the center of the platform.
A fire dragon.
Its pale, scaly hide gleamed faintly in the torchlight, while its wings, covered in jagged bone spurs, lay folded at its sides. The dragon’s nostrils flared, releasing bursts of hot, white air, and its eyes remained closed, giving it an almost statuesque quality.
This was a Ukrainian Ironbelly, a creature as terrifying as it was majestic.
However, beyond the dragon, one vault door stood out—torn from its hinges, revealing a gaping hole in its place.
This was their destination.
Kamar-Taj’s treasury.
Chapter 470
Roar!
The dragon's thunderous roar echoed through the cavern, its pale wings trembling as though sensing the arrival of intruders. The leathery appendages scraped against the rough stone floor, producing a grating, unsettling sound. Slowly, the creature began to rise, its massive limbs stretching as it revealed a colossal frame marred by numerous wounds.
All eyes turned to the fearsome head of the dragon as it lifted, its jagged scales glinting faintly in the dim light. A closer look revealed a deep, festering scar cutting across the socket of its left eye. The once-proud orb had been replaced by an inflamed mass, oozing a sickly mixture of pink and yellow pus. Despite its injury, the dragon's remaining eye burned with a savage ferocity—a mixture of hatred, pain, and an insatiable thirst for blood.
Yet its baleful gaze wasn’t fixed on Ian or his companions but rather on the goblins standing behind them, particularly the figure of Harmon, who led the group.
Suddenly, the sharp clang of a bronze bell shattered the tense silence. A goblin emerged from the shadows, ringing the bell with rapid, deliberate movements. The moment the dragon heard the sound, its predatory glare wavered, replaced by a flicker of terror.
Roar! Roar!
The dragon’s anguished cries filled the air as it thrashed wildly, its enormous wings flapping uncontrollably. The beast's head jerked erratically as if trying to dislodge an unbearable pain stabbing through its skull. It twisted and pulled, its body writhing with desperation, but the bronze chains coiled around it held firm.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
The beast’s struggles caused the chains to groan and rattle, their metallic clamor reverberating through the chamber. Glowing red runes etched along the chain’s length flared to life, emitting a magical aura that pressed down on the dragon with oppressive force. Its mighty legs buckled, and it collapsed, its enormous belly pressed against the floor. The once-pristine pale scales of its underbelly became tarnished, smeared with grime and streaks of blood.
A pitiful whimper escaped the dragon’s throat—low and mournful, a sound that carried both agony and a plea for mercy. It was a pitiful sight, the once-mighty creature reduced to this state. But beneath the surface of its despair, there was something more—a prayer, perhaps, to a distant, unknowable deity.
“Brother, I can feel its despair,” Wanda whispered, tugging at Ian’s sleeve. Her voice trembled with emotion. “It’s praying to the gods. It just wants to go home.”
Ian glanced at her but said nothing immediately. Wanda’s words hung in the air, unfinished, as if she wanted to say more but hesitated. Her gaze betrayed a complex mix of pity and determination.
Ian knew what she wanted. Wanda’s tender heart would never allow her to leave the dragon to its suffering. But letting it go wasn’t in her nature either. No, Wanda was the type who’d want to take the dragon under her wing, taming it and forging a bond of loyalty. Perhaps even making it her battle companion—or worse, Ian thought wryly, her brother’s.
The thought of becoming a Dragon Knight stirred something primal within Ian—a mix of fear and excitement. Suppressing his impulsive musings, he sighed and patted Wanda’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. If you really want it, I’ll back you up. The instructor won’t refuse such a small request.”
Wanda’s face lit up with gratitude, but Ian wasn’t done. “For now, focus on the task at hand. The instructor has put a lot into this mission, and we can’t afford any distractions. Finish the job first, and then we’ll talk about the dragon.”
Understanding his meaning, Wanda nodded firmly. The lessons drilled into her by Teacher Carter left no room for error—personal desires could never interfere with the mission. Failure in this regard would not only invite Carter’s wrath but also the ignominy of becoming an example in future training sessions. The very thought sent a shiver down her spine.
Even so, as she glanced back at the subdued dragon, her heart raced. There was something about the creature—something that promised untapped potential. Fate, it seemed, had plans for this beast.
“This Ukrainian Ironbelly was carefully chosen,” Harmon announced, his voice breaking through Wanda’s thoughts. “It’s ferocious enough to rank among the top-tier Level 5X magical creatures.”
His words drew the group’s attention back to him. Harmon’s sharp eyes gleamed as he continued, “Even the most skilled dark wizards would find their magic useless against its scales. And one bite from this beast—just one—and they’d be swallowed whole.”
Pride radiated from the goblin as he spoke, his confidence restoring some of the morale among his comrades. The goblins, who had initially cowered under Wanda’s imposing presence, now straightened their backs, reassured by Harmon’s bold claims.
“Of course, it’s entirely under our control,” Harmon added. “As long as it’s domesticated, there’s no danger to anyone here.”
The implication was clear—without their control, the dragon would be a catastrophe waiting to happen.
“Haha, Gringotts truly lives up to its reputation as the safest place in the wizarding world,” Umbridge interjected with a laugh, hoping to ease the tension. “No dark wizard would dare set foot here with such measures in place.”
With the mood beginning to lighten, Umbridge pressed on. “Now, let us proceed to the treasury. Once we examine the Kamar Taj vault, the truth will become clear.”
She gestured toward a vault with a torn brass door. Harmon, catching her intent, nodded and gestured for his subordinates to proceed. The goblins hurriedly moved ahead, their expressions grim.
Behind them, the subdued dragon remained motionless, emitting a low, sorrowful moan as the group passed.
Darkness enveloped them as they entered the vault. Time seemed to blur, each moment stretching endlessly before abruptly snapping back into focus.
Goblin Warren stirred from unconsciousness, disoriented. A strange warmth enveloped him, lulling him into a false sense of comfort. But a sharp voice shattered the haze clouding his mind.
“Warren. Wake up!”
The words clawed at his consciousness, dragging him back to the present. Memories flooded his mind—a rush of images and sensations. He remembered the mission, the betrayal, and his failure.
Before him, the scene unfolded like a nightmare. The vault lay in disarray, counterfeit gold galleons scattered across the floor. Nearby, several goblins in blue and one in green were sprawled motionless.
“Warren, you traitor!” a voice thundered, shaking him to his core. Elder Harmon’s enraged face loomed over him, and Warren’s heart sank.
Memories crystallized. He had been tasked with sabotaging Kamar Taj’s vault, replacing their gold with fakes to undermine their reputation. But he’d been discovered, his efforts thwarted. Now, there was no escaping the consequences.
“Mr. Ian,” Harmon spoke, his tone composed but icy, “the situation is clear. This is an internal matter—a traitor within Gringotts attempted to compromise our client’s vault.”
He bowed deeply, his face a mask of regret. “Kamar Taj has our sincerest apologies. Gringotts will take full responsibility for the losses incurred and ensure those responsible face justice.”
