Daughter of Darkness

CHAPTER FOUR: GRINGOTTS

Evil is just a point of view."
-Anne Rice

At first glance, Diagon Alley looked perfect. But Lyra looked closer, and saw the flaws.

Some of the cobblestones were chipped and tarnished. Several storefronts looked old and rickety. The rich were vastly outnumbered by the poor. Overall, Diagon Alley reminded Lyra of an old lady trying to cover up her wrinkles with ridicolous amounts of makeup.

Her prospective father guided her through the throngs of people, until at last they reached Gringotts Wizarding Bank.

Lyra's initial observation of Gringotts was that the goblins had clearly built it to impress. White marble columns supported a massive dome engraved with gold. She thought it looked like a cross between the Taj Mahal, the Parthenon, and Buckingham Palace.

Engraved on the silver doors was a poem written in elegant, flowing script.

Enter, stranger, but take heed
Of what awaits the sin of greed
For those who take, but do not earn,
Must pay most dearly in their turn
So if you seek beneath our floors
A treasure that was never yours,
Thief, you have been warned, beware
Of finding more than treasure there

Beside the doors was a small, swarthy figure wearing a uniform of crimson and gold. It had a sharp nose and long, elegant fingers and was clearly a goblin.

"How many people accept your challenge, Master Goblin?" she said to the door-goblin.

He gave her a sadistic smile. "Several fools each year. None have succeeded yet."

Marvolo had told her, before entering Diagon Alley, to be wary of the goblins.

She mused on what he had said to her earlier.

"Goblins are a race of sentient beings. They run the global wizarding bank, Gringotts, which was founded by a goblin named Gringott in 1474. They are not tall or physically imposing, but they are never to be underestimated. Goblins are a warrior species first and foremost. They have fought dozens of bloody wars with wizards and still mistrust most wixen. Treat them with respect. Do not avert eye contact. Remember, most wizards treat goblins like humans. They are not human. Goblins are not inferior to wizards, as some bigots think, but very different beings that must be treated differently."

Inside, hundreds of goblins sat on stools and chairs behind a long marble counter, talking to various wizards and witches. Some weighed coins on elaborate brass scales. Others were writing furiously in ledgers made of genuine parchment.

The Dark Lord strode in confidently, giving a respectful bow to the goblin tellers that escorted the pair. Lyra followed quickly in his wake. She felt out of place in her beat-up leather jacket, and somewhat jumpy. One hand unconsciously drifted towards her knife.

When they reached an unoccupied teller, Marvolo said something in an unintelligible language to the goblin.

The goblin responded, asking him a question in the same guttural language. The goblin looked at the ring on her escort's finger, before escorting them both through a long looping stone hallway illuminated by blazing torches into a small room.

Inside there was only a large desk. In front were two wooden chairs. They both took a seat and silently waited.

Around five minutes later, another goblin came in. Unlike the teller, this one was wearing exquisite armour made of shining silver and engraved with thin pieces of moonstone. His face was weathered and scarred, but his eyes were sharp.

"Greetings Account Manager Ripclaw, may your enemies fall at your feet."

The goblin gave a curt nod. "Greetings Lord Slytherin, and may your coffers ever be full. What have you come to me for?"