Chapter 472

Gringotts, conference room.

Clatter. Clatter. Clatter.

In the vast, dimly lit chamber, the rhythmic tapping of Elder Harmon's fingers against the polished stone table echoed ominously. Each soft yet deliberate click seemed to drill into the goblins' nerves, a slow, methodical rhythm that sent chills down their spines.

The oppressive silence of the room was stifling. A thin sheen of sweat glistened on the foreheads of the goblins seated around the long, dark mahogany table. Some discreetly dabbed at their brows with their sleeves, but the moisture returned almost instantly, an endless cycle of anxious perspiration.

The tension in the air thickened with every passing second.

Then—abruptly—the clicking stopped.

But instead of relief, a sharper, heavier silence fell over the room. The goblins, each already on edge, felt their throats constrict as they braced for the final verdict. Their small, sharp claws clenched against their seats, their hunched postures stiff with apprehension.

"Does anyone wish to speak now?" Harmon's voice, cool and composed, carried a lethal undertone.

Dead silence.

No goblin dared to move, let alone respond. Those who had been about to open their mouths hesitated, sensing the wary, watchful gazes of their peers. The unspoken rule in the room was clear—whoever spoke first might as well be walking into a trap.

Harmon's eyes swept across the assembly, his gaze a blade seeking weakness. His lips curled slightly, though it was not in amusement. "No one has anything to say?" His words were polite, but his tone suggested that their continued silence would only make things worse.

Finally, after an unbearable pause, one goblin hesitantly stood. The movement drew immediate attention. Elder Harmon's eyes narrowed slightly, and the others watched with a mix of curiosity and apprehension.

Lunda, a mid-ranked goblin, took a cautious breath before speaking. "Elder," he began, forcing a calm tone, "I believe our first priority should be retaliation against Kamar Taj."

The words acted as a release valve for the room. The unbearable pressure lessened just slightly, and a murmur of agreement spread through the assembled goblins. Lunda, emboldened by the reaction, straightened his back and spoke more fluently.

"Kamar Taj attempted to disgrace Gringotts, to damage our credibility among wizards. This cannot be ignored. Thanks to Elder Harmon's quick thinking, their scheme failed." He paused, then repeated emphatically, "Without Elder Harmon, the situation could have been disastrous."

Flattery dripped from every syllable, and for a brief moment, Harmon allowed himself the indulgence of approval. It was good to see that at least some of them recognized his value.

But as Lunda continued, Harmon's patience began to wear thin.

The goblin was circling around the point, showering praise but failing to present any real solutions. Harmon's fingers twitched slightly—a sign that he was growing irritated. You've made your point, Lunda. But where's the strategy?

With a practiced sigh, Harmon cut in smoothly. "And what is your plan, Lunda?"

Lunda's words faltered. He opened his mouth, then shut it. The goblin's confidence visibly wavered.

The silence that followed was damning.

Harmon's eyes flashed with cold amusement as he realized Lunda had no concrete proposal at all—only empty rhetoric. So, you're a talker, not a doer. Typical.

"Sniveling coward," Harmon muttered under his breath. He shifted his gaze to the others in the room, wordlessly daring them to speak up.

Predictably, the goblins around the table averted their eyes, suddenly finding their hands, their papers, or the floor immensely interesting. None wanted to be the next fool who failed to deliver a solid course of action.

Then, a voice broke through the silence.

"Elder Harmon, retaliation against Kamar Taj is imperative, but perhaps our immediate focus should be identifying and the true traitors within Gringotts."

Another goblin stood up, clearly attempting to steer the conversation away from the dangerous topic of openly confronting Kamar Taj.

A ripple of murmurs spread through the room, and the goblins quickly latched onto this new, safer discussion.

"Yes! We must inverstigate the treasury guards!"

"Veritaserum, memory probes, soul searches—we must leave no stone unturned!"

Harmon leaned back slightly, listening as the chamber filled with a rising clamor of increasingly vicious suggestions. The more merciless the proposal, the more the speaker sought to prove their loyalty.

Disgusting.

Outwardly, he remained impassive, but inwardly, he felt only frustration. His kin were wolves—vicious, ambitious, but ultimately too self-serving. They would eagerly rip each other apart in the name of loyalty, yet when faced with a true external enemy, they cowered.

It was a tragic irony.

And one he would soon have to correct.

He allowed the chatter to continue for a moment longer before raising a single hand.

Silence fell instantly.

"You have all made excellent points," he said smoothly, his tone a calculated mix of approval and authority. "I will consider your suggestions regarding the traitors."

Several goblins sighed in relief.

"But," Harmon continued, his voice cooling, "let us return to the matter at hand. What concrete strategies do you propose against Kamar Taj?"

Once again, the chamber descended into uneasy silence.

This time, however, Harmon had expected it. He had already determined what needed to be done.

Enough was enough. If the goblins of Gringotts feared making the first move, then he would make it for them.

His expression darkened as he stood, placing both hands on the table and surveying the goblins before him.

"Gringotts will not sit idly by while Kamar Taj seeks to destroy us." His voice rang with icy determination. "They have gone too far. They must be made to suffer the consequences of their arrogance."

A shiver ran through the gathered goblins as they listened. This was not empty posturing—Harmon was serious.

He took a breath before delivering his orders:

"Summon the wandering goblins. Place bounties on Kamar Taj students."

"Contact the Dark Lord—inform him that Gringotts is willing to lend support in dismantling Kamar Taj."

"Exert pressure on the Ministry of Magic—force them to distance themselves from Kamar Taj or risk losing financial stability."

"Manipulate the Daily Prophet. Twist the narrative. Turn the wizarding world against them."

Each command fell like a hammer, solid and inescapable.

Gasps filled the room, and wide-eyed goblins exchanged looks of alarm.

This… this was war.

Some swallowed nervously. Others, like Lunda, quickly recovered and straightened their spines, nodding vigorously. "Yes! Brilliant! Elder Harmon's wisdom is unparalleled!"

One by one, the other goblins echoed their agreement. Some out of conviction. Most out of fear.

Harmon's eyes gleamed with satisfaction.

This is how you crush an enemy. With precision. With force. With utter ruthlessness.

As the last affirmation was spoken, he leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping to a quiet, lethal whisper.

"Now, tell me… can you do it?"

For several agonizing seconds, the only sound was the faint creak of the wooden chairs as goblins shifted uncomfortably.

Then, one by one, the responses came.

"We can do it."

"We will do it."

"We must do it."

Harmon smiled—a thin, merciless curve of his lips.

And then, just as the final echoes of their declarations faded—

"Clap…Clap…Clap"

A voice, cold and unfamiliar, drifted into the chamber.

" That was quite the performance."

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