"Lockhart, what exactly do you intend to do?"
Harmon's voice, unlike those of the trembling goblins around him, was steady, composed. He did not cower in fear, nor did he beg for mercy like some of his underlings who were now shifting uneasily, their gazes darting toward the ground as if seeking refuge in their own shadows.
Instead, he looked Lockhart in the eye, calling him by name—not with reverence, nor with defiance, but with a strange sense of resignation.
In his cold, piercing gaze, there was no panic. Only the grim understanding of a man who knew that all exits had been sealed, all backup plans had failed, and all chances of escape had withered away.
It was not just himself or his fellow goblins that were on the chopping block. It was Gringotts itself.
This… this is the power of a true wizard at the peak.
If only Gringotts had a force capable of standing against such an opponent, if only they had cultivated a power to rival the legendary wizards of Kamar Taj, then none of this would be happening.
Why?
The question echoed in his mind, reverberating like the toll of a funeral bell.
Why is this happening?!
For centuries, goblins had clawed and scraped their way toward a future free from wizard oppression. After hundreds of years of struggle, after so many sacrifices, they had finally begun to see the faintest glimmer of hope at the end of the tunnel.
And now, in a single day, that hope was obliterated.
All because of this man.
Harmon felt a surge of hatred boil in his chest. It was not the wild, thoughtless rage of a cornered beast but the deep, smoldering hatred of someone who understood—who knew exactly what had been lost.
Regret threatened to creep into his thoughts, but he shoved it away.
No.
No time for regret.
But if he had to admit one thing—if he had one moment of weakness—perhaps he regretted not killing these Kamar Taj wizards the moment they set foot in Gringotts.
If he had acted decisively, cut them down where they stood, perhaps things would have played out differently.
Perhaps.
But he had been too slow.
And now—
He closed his eyes for a brief moment. Then, when he opened them again, all emotion had drained away.
Harmon stared at Lockhart as if he were trying to etch his enemy's face into his memory.
Or perhaps… he was simply looking upon the man who would deliver his death.
But Lockhart's voice, ever smooth, ever calm, interrupted his thoughts.
"Does it really matter what I intend to do?" Lockhart mused, tilting his head slightly, a knowing smirk playing at his lips. "What's far more important is what my students want to do."
He gestured lazily toward Ian and Wanda, who were standing just behind him, watching the scene unfold like spectators at a theater.
"After all," Lockhart continued, his voice light yet dripping with an unmistakable authority, "when a student makes a mistake, it falls to the teacher to ensure it is corrected."
Harmon let out a quiet breath, his gaze unwavering.
"So, we at Gringotts… are the price you must pay to correct that mistake," he finished, his voice even.
Lockhart offered a small nod, pleased at Harmon's understanding.
Then, without another glance toward him, he turned to his students.
"Well then," Lockhart said smoothly. "Do either of you have ideas? Speak freely."
Ian and Wanda remained silent for a moment.
They knew their mentor well.
This was a test.
Not just a test of their intelligence, but of their instincts, their ability to think beyond the immediate and into the larger picture.
After a moment of thought, Ian spoke first. His voice was measured, analytical.
"Mentor," he began, "since this failure ultimately came from our miscalculation, our focus should be on correcting that mistake and ensuring the plan moves forward without further obstacles."
He cast a sidelong glance at Harmon before continuing.
"Harmon was the key figure in disrupting our plan. However, killing him outright would be a waste. Instead, I suggest we control him—turn him into our puppet."
A ripple of unease spread through the gathered goblins.
Ian's voice remained unnervingly calm, as if he were discussing the most logical course of action in a simple game of chess.
"Our objective remains the same—to control wizarding currency. With most of Gringotts' high-ranking officials already compromised or subdued, we are in a position to dictate its operations entirely."
The goblins' eyes widened in horror.
Was this wizard truly suggesting that they keep Gringotts intact, but force it to serve Kamar Taj's will?
Ian's next words confirmed their worst fears.
"By allowing Gringotts to continue operating under our control, we create plausible deniability. Any aggressive policies or controversial actions can be blamed on Gringotts itself, insulating Kamar Taj from backlash while providing us with a buffer for the future."
Ian's gaze remained level. "In other words, we use Gringotts as both a tool and a shield."
Cold sweat dripped down the backs of the goblins.
This was… too cruel.
They weren't just being defeated.
They were being used.
Like a tattered old rag—useful while it lasted, and discarded the moment it was no longer needed.
Lockhart, expression unreadable, turned toward Wanda.
"And you?" he asked, his eyes glinting with curiosity.
Wanda smiled—a mischievous, almost playful smile. She stuck her tongue out slightly, her demeanor in stark contrast to the grim seriousness of the situation.
"I think Ian's plan is great," she said cheerfully. "But we should add something extra."
She tilted her head, her fingers playfully twirling a lock of her hair.
"Mentor, have you forgotten?" she teased. "Gringotts holds the entire wealth of the British wizarding world."
Lockhart chuckled softly. "Ah. You want to take it."
Wanda beamed, her eyes shining with delight. "Of course! It would be such a waste to leave all that gold just sitting there."
Lockhart glanced toward Carter, who had remained silent throughout the discussion. The vice principal was idly examining her surroundings, showing little outward reaction.
Lockhart sighed inwardly.
At a glance, my students seem more and more like villains.
And yet, he found himself pleased.
Hogwarts had produced wizards like Harry Potter, noble and righteous to a fault.
Meanwhile, his own students…
They were something else entirely.
And he had no complaints.
Turning back to Harmon, Lockhart posed his next question.
"Harmon, what do you think?"
The goblin elder clenched his jaw. He had remained silent throughout the conversation, refusing to acknowledge the words being spoken about him and his people as if they were nothing more than assets on a ledger.
But now, as all eyes fell on him once more, he snorted.
He refused to speak.
What was there to say?
Nothing he said would change his fate.
And he would not entertain these wizards by giving them the pleasure of watching him beg.
But while Harmon held onto his silence, the other goblins in the room—
They did not share his pride.
"Lord Lockhart, I am still useful!" one of them blurted desperately.
Another scrambled to follow. "We know everything about Gringotts' assets—every vault, every hidden chamber!"
"Sir, there is something you may not know," another goblin piped up frantically. "Gringotts has been secretly working with Muggles to develop lethal weapons for wizards!"
Lockhart and his students paused.
Ian raised an eyebrow. Wanda's mischievous smile widened.
Lockhart simply exhaled softly.
Ah. So now the betrayals begin.
And that was precisely what he had been waiting for.
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