Chapter 181: Malfoy’s Hint
Tall, snow-white buildings towered high, nestled among rows of shops. Day after day of polishing made the bronze door gleam brightly. Standing in front of the door was a goblin attendant with a strange face. These attendants had dark gray-green faces, like moles that burrow in the ground, pointed goatee beards, cunning expressions, and sly eyes.
Every goblin wore a scarlet and gold-trimmed uniform, with buttons made of metals in different materials: bronze, silver, and gold.
The young professor walked through the first door of the wizarding bank, where there was another door made of silver, engraved with Gringotts’ warning:
「…Thief, you have been warned,
Beware, what you summon is not treasure, but retribution.」
Melvin paid no mind to this warning. He carried a wire cage containing a rat, ignored the bows from the two goblin attendants, and casually walked inside toward the counter, saying to an idle goblin:
“Hello, I want to deposit some Galleons into the vault, Melvin Lavent’s vault.”
“Do you have the key, sir?”
“I brought it…” Melvin handed the vault key to it for inspection. Just as the goblin was about to call an idle attendant to lead the way, he interrupted, “Can you have Ragnok show me the way? He handled my business last time.”
The goblin looked at him in surprise: “Of course, I’ll get him to take you to the underground vault right away… Ragnok!”
Half a minute later, the short Ragnok hurried over from the back. He glanced at Melvin, his bat-wing-like ears twitching slightly: “Professor, please follow me.”
Opening the door to the underground vault, they entered a narrow stone corridor.
Ragnok stood by the railway track, not immediately whistling for a cart, but instead looking troubled at Melvin: “Professor, do you want to store this rat of yours in the vault too?”
Melvin looked down and couldn’t help laughing: “Sorry, I forgot I was carrying a rat.”
“If it’s not a stored item, you can leave it here first and take it on the return trip. A goblin will look after it properly.” Ragnok’s face bore a polite smile, revealing a row of sharp little teeth, giving a slightly eerie appearance.
“I’ll do as you say.”
Watching the rat cage placed in the corner, Ragnok relaxed a bit. With a whistle, a cart clattered along the track to them.
The rat Scabbers huddled in the cage, staring as they boarded the cart and disappeared into the end of the track, a faint glimmer in its round eyes.
“Squeak…”
It was the same procedure as last time: boarding the cart and heading deep underground. The tracks rumbled echoing underground, passing through an underground lake with stalactites. Since this was a regular vault opening for an old customer, there was no anti-theft waterfall check. They smoothly went deep into the underground corridor and stopped in front of several vault doors at the deepest point.
While Ragnok was opening the door, Melvin glanced back. The aged fire dragon was curled up in a cave, its murky eyes half-open, some scales fallen off, like a mangy dog.
“Weren’t they supposed to add a manticore?” Melvin asked.
“You mean the sphinx?” Ragnok didn’t turn his head. He tapped the stone wall with the key, revealing the keyhole, then carefully opened the vault’s stone wall. “That’s too valuable. The Egyptian Ministry of Magic recently listed it as a rare protected animal. Gringotts can’t find a trained guardian beast in the short term, so it’s on hold for now.”
The vault’s main door swung open. The goblin turned around, bowing slightly: “Please rest assured, no one dares offend Gringotts. Your treasure is absolutely safe.”
Melvin neither confirmed nor denied it. He walked into the vault, which was quiet inside, the air somewhat stuffy with a faint earthy smell. In the center of the room, the Galleons stored last time were piled into a small mountain, gleaming with gold light.
“These are the Galleons for this deposit. Do you want to count them?” Melvin held a linen pouch, shaking it twice, gold coins clinking.
“No, professor, this vault belongs to you, and the Galleons here are yours. Gringotts only safeguards them.”
Though Ragnok said this, seeing the huge amount of Galleons poured onto the ground, his face still showed a sincere smile, as if delighted by gold that wasn’t his own.
Melvin wore a faint smile, understanding that the goblin had let his guard down, so he casually asked:
“Easter is coming soon. I plan to take a long trip during the holiday, but my business needs someone to look after it. If I’m not present, how can others access this batch of Galleons?”
“That’s simple. If you instruct them in advance, the wizard can just bring the vault key at the time.”
“What if it’s a sudden event without prior instruction?”
“That would be more trouble. You’d need to write a letter yourself, best stating it’s your wish, to verify the agent’s identity.”
“I see.”
Melvin nodded. The Galleons were fully poured out. He circled the vault twice and casually asked: “Does Gringotts encounter this situation often?”
“Occasionally, some customers have the need.” Ragnok’s eyes were glued to the Galleons, staring mesmerized.
“If, I mean if, a customer is still alive but can’t return here due to physical reasons and can’t write a letter of authorization to prove identity, how can they get their things out of the vault?”
“They must have the vault key, and the agent needs to prove their identity—at least a relative of the vault owner, or with approval from the Ministry of Magic…” Ragnok scratched his head, finding the customer’s question odd but not dwelling on it. “That’s all I know. For other cases, you’d need the manager to check.”
“I understand…”
Melvin showed a thoughtful look.
……
Hogwarts, Gryffindor Common Room.
Flames blazed in the fireplace, and not far in front stood a small projection mirror with flickering images.
Little wizards sat cross-legged on the carpet, staring straight at the floating images, eyes unblinking, reflections dancing in their gazes.
In the projection mirror, a magical creature the size of a troll was crouched behind the jungle, its tail ending in a long scorpion tail with sharp spikes gleaming coldly.
The image shifted, revealing the magical creature had a face nearly human.
This shocking image made some lower years gasp, some girls even screaming and averting their eyes, though reluctantly, peeking through squinted lids.
“In Tanzania’s Serengeti Plains, something wondrous is happening. Days of storms have given the beasts good living space.
“A proud female manticore stands tall. She’s a hunting expert, magic defense specialist, able to resist nearly all known spells. Any creature stung by her tail spike dies instantly—more lethal than sea serpents, Acromantulas, even basilisks.
“At the same time, she’s a great mother. Nursing manticore cubs is an extremely painful ordeal…”
These were wild magical creatures, unlike the dull textbook words and pictures. The habits and traits lectured in class were shown profoundly and intuitively: law of the jungle, survival of the fittest, yet not just one beast hunting another.
After the hunt, it explored beastly family bonds from unimaginable angles, the stark contrast of blood and tenderness creating strong emotional impact.
The young wizards in their teens were still innocent, unexposed to this. Boys were captivated by the agile hunting form, unable to look away; girls touched by maternal affection, noses tingling, forgetting their earlier fear.
The group of students gained a new understanding of this 5X-level dangerous magical creature.
Even rule-abiding Percy thought George and Fred were right this time. Good thing they begged Professor McGonagall, so they could watch programs by the fireplace every weekend from now on.
Harry had seen television at the Dursleys’ home, but was drawn to this unique program, staying by the fireplace, even holding it in to avoid the toilet.
A chill suddenly came—Nearly Headless Nick. The ghost’s head dangled from the ceiling, also staring at the projection mirror, calling softly without turning:
“Harry, Harry…”
“Nearly Head…” Harry paused, “Nick, is there something you need?”
“Someone wants to talk to you, in the abandoned classroom downstairs.”
“Who?”
“That Slytherin kid with platinum blond hair!”
“Malfoy… probably about Dobby?” Harry frowned slightly.
He’d admitted defeat in the match to save Malfoy’s face, promising to free Dobby—it was settled in duelling class. What more to discuss? Had something changed? Or was Dobby already freed?
Unable to think of answers, Harry scanned around, tugging his friends’ sleeves:
“Ron, Hermione, come out with me… Ron, Ron, Ron!”
Immersed in the manticore’s grief over losing its child, Ron jolted at the shout, dragged away before complaining, out of the projection mirror’s range to behind an empty sofa.
He muttered: “What are you doing? It was getting to the good part!”
Harry whispered: “Malfoy wants to talk downstairs. Not sure what about. Come with me.”
“What if Malfoy backs out, wants revenge, ambushes you in the classroom with Crabbe and Goyle?” Ron always assumed the worst of Malfoy.
Harry hesitated: “Probably… not?”
“He’s not that stupid. Besides, we should hurry—dinner time’s almost here.” Hermione said.
“Who knows?”
Ron glanced reluctantly at the projection mirror but prioritized his friends’ safety, quickly following them. With everyone’s attention on the mirror, they slipped out of the common room, down to the abandoned classroom Nick mentioned.
No Crabbe or Goyle—just Malfoy alone by the classroom window, bored gazing afar.
“Weasley, Granger…”
Draco looked puzzled at their wary stares, guessing their thoughts, sneering disdainfully.
Harry and the others pretended not to notice: “You wanted to see us?”
“Something came up with that house-elf…” Draco didn’t bother arguing, speaking softly to Harry, spreading his hands helplessly.
It was just a lowly house-elf. He’d written to his mother Narcissa to free Dobby, but didn’t realize ownership was with his father Lucius. Though others could order it around, his father was the true master.
“I can’t make my father free a house-elf, any more than I can convince him to throw away hundreds of Galleons.”
Draco paused, thinking the metaphor off— the latter might actually happen. He shook his head: “If you’re not in a rush, wait till summer vacation when I go home and figure it out, or till I inherit the Malfoy family—then I’ll keep my promise and free Dobby.”
Hermione’s brows furrowed tightly.
“You’re just welching, right?” Ron challenged.
“The Malfoy family always has good reputation in business.” Draco lifted his chin, looking at them proudly. “If you can’t wait, figure it out yourselves. I can cooperate.”
……
Minutes later, the three left the abandoned classroom, discussing the talk.
“What can we do?” Ron said indignantly. “He doesn’t want to keep his promise!”
Hermione frowned slightly, having an idea: “Last time in the hospital wing, Dobby mentioned house-elves gain freedom only when their master gives them clothes.”
“But Mr. Malfoy is careful, doesn’t even give Dobby a sock.”
Harry sorted his thoughts, meeting Hermione’s gaze. A spark hit him: “That’s the way Malfoy hinted at—get Mr. Malfoy to give Dobby clothes, even a sock!”
Ron scratched his head, doubtful.
“But we don’t even get a chance to see him…”
Ron muttered, then glanced at the stair corner. His eyes widened huge; he shouted excitedly: “Scabbers! I see Scabbers!”
In the corner, a gray rat lay quietly napping, eyes squinted. It was thinner than before, patchy bald spots, and crucially, missing a toe!
“Scabbers! My Scabbers! You’re alive!”
Ron rushed over joyfully but gently scooped the gray rat into his palm, holding it up carefully: “I knew it, I knew it—you lived with us twelve years, how could you die easily? Even the basilisk couldn’t touch you!”
Scabbers opened its eyes, seemingly moved by the reunion, nuzzling his nose tip affectionately.
“…”
Harry and Hermione exchanged looks, falling silent.
The ugly gray rat being affectionate with its owner—this scene was a bit… indescribable.
