Chapter 266: The Goblin Elders

As she spoke, Mrs. Weasley grabbed Lockhart by the arm and briskly led him out of Flourish and Blotts, heading straight toward Gringotts.

Lockhart, pulled along in her wake, wore a stunned expression, as though he hadn't quite processed what was happening.

Meanwhile, deep within one of Gringotts' most hidden underground chambers, a dozen goblins sat solemnly around an ancient stone table, engaged in tense discussion.

At that very moment, the goblin whom Wentworth had previously released was escorted into the room by two others, barely able to walk on his own.

As soon as he crossed the threshold, the goblin burst into tears and cried out:

"Elders—please, you must save our kin!"

One of the goblins who had been seated rose immediately, hurried over to support him, and asked gravely:

"Was it the Alliance who sent you back?"

The goblin, wiping at his tear-streaked face, nodded and choked out:

"Yes, Elder. The Alliance has given us ten minutes—ten—to hand over their captured members. If we fail, they've sworn to kill one of our people every five minutes… until there is no Gringotts left in London."

His words sent a ripple of outrage through the chamber—some goblins shouted in fury, others looked stricken with worry, and a few remained coldly silent.

A goblin at the table slammed his fist on the stone, his voice shaking with anger.

"These humans have gone too far! I propose we open the Vault of Secrets and fight them head-on!"

But before he could finish, another elder cut him off sharply:

"Open the Vault? Are you mad? If we keep it sealed, this remains a conflict between us and the Alliance—the Ministry of Magic won't stand idly by while they ransack Gringotts. This vault holds the wealth of all Wizarding London!"

"But if we do open it," the elder continued grimly, "then we declare war not just on the Alliance, but on all of wizardkind. And in our current state, that is a war we are certain to lose."

Another goblin rose from his seat, his voice edged with bitterness.

"I said it from the beginning: the Alliance are fanatics, even among humans. We should've wiped that one's memory and let him go! But no—you all insisted on punishment. Well? Who's punishing whom now?"

The room erupted into chaos—accusations flew, defenses were raised, and it seemed that tempers might boil over into blows.

Just then, a heavy thud echoed through the room.

The goblin seated at the head of the table—silent until now—brought his cane down with force. Instantly, the chamber fell silent. Every goblin stood and bowed respectfully.

"High Elder," they murmured in unison.

The High Elder slowly rose to his feet, his hunched form leaning on a twisted staff as he shuffled toward the door.

"Someone," he said, voice quiet but commanding, "bring out the human wizard we captured. I will speak to the one leading them."

He paused, then added with finality:

"And reinforce the Vault of Secrets. Conceal it completely. No matter what happens—we do not open it. If things come to ruin… then you must flee. Flee to Hogsmeade, and seek Dumbledore's protection. And send word of what's happened in London to every Gringotts across the globe."

With those words, the High Elder hobbled from the room, leaving the rest of the goblins staring at each other in tense silence.

Outside Gringotts, a crowd surged toward the steps, with Lockhart caught at its center.

By the time he realized where he was, they were nearly at the entrance.

He gritted his teeth, clearly ready to bolt—but as he turned, he froze.

At some point—he wasn't sure when—a group of Alliance wizards had appeared behind them. Wands drawn. Silent. Watching.

"What is it, Professor Lockhart?" asked Mrs. Weasley, turning around to follow his gaze.

She gasped when she saw the wizards.

"Oh—heavens, Professor Lockhart, how sharp you are! No wonder Headmaster Dumbledore chose you to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts! None of us noticed they were behind us, and yet you did! How did you know?"

Lockhart forced a smile—one that looked more like a grimace—and waved a hand with exaggerated bravado.

"Oh, just a small matter. I am Gilderoy Lockhart, after all—Recipient of the Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defense League!"

But as he caught the awe in Mrs. Weasley's eyes—and saw the Alliance members tightening their formation—his heart sank like a stone.

Inside the grand lobby of Gringotts, Wentworth was lounging on a velvet-backed settee, sipping an exotic drink Rosier had somehow acquired, accompanied by an assortment of magical delicacies.

Just then, Auston approached and said quietly:

"Master, several wizards are gathering outside Gringotts."

Wentworth arched an eyebrow, checked his pocket watch, and muttered:

"The Aurors are early for once? How uncharacteristically efficient of the British Ministry…"

But Auston shook his head slowly.

"No, Master. They're not Aurors. I saw the entire Weasley family, the Malfoys, and Harry Potter among them. Also, based on our intel, the new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts this year is Gilderoy Lockhart. He's here too."

Wentworth's frown deepened.

"What kind of lineup is that? How did they all end up together?"

Auston spread his hands apologetically—he didn't know either.

At that moment, Cassandra, who had been quietly observing, finally spoke:

"The others don't worry me. But Lockhart… despite his reputation, he does have some real skill. We should be careful."

Wentworth gave her a strange look and asked with a smirk:

"What—don't tell me you admire him?"

Cassandra nodded matter-of-factly.

"Of course. Admiring strength—what's wrong with that? I even have his complete signed book collection!"

Wentworth let out a dry chuckle and turned to Auston.

"Fetch my professor for next term's Defence Against the Dark Arts class. I'd like to give him a proper welcome."

Auston gave a quick nod and left the room.

Across the hall, Kirk leaned over to whisper in Cedric's ear.

"Someone's in for it."

Cedric nodded gravely.

Cassandra's lips curled into a sly smile as she turned to Wentworth.

"What's the matter, Wentworth? Jealous, are you? Don't worry—I'm sure once you've had the kind of life experiences Lockhart's had, you'll be even more impressive."

Wentworth merely scoffed in reply, saying nothing.

Cedric, watching this unfold, leaned over to Kirk and whispered:

"I'm beginning to think Cassandra wants Lockhart dead."

Kirk swallowed hard—and nodded in agreement.

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