Hermione Granger and the Year Hidden from Hogwarts

Chapter 22

Hermione Granger and the Year Hidden from Hogwarts

Harry Potter Fanfiction

Chapter 22

A/N: Woo, here we are, at Gringotts!

April 25th, 1992

The façade of the building, much like the towers of leaning cauldrons, defied gravity. The Corinthian columns on the building face leaned precariously one way, and then, as if it'd happened during construction, corrected the other way.

It wasn't singularly impressive, but she found the shield interesting, a gold plated number set directly into the marble slabs near the door.

"Fortius Quo Fidelius," Hermione read the motto out loud. "Strength through loyalty?"

"Part of your Latin skills coming through?" Flitwick grinned, and it was the first time that he bore somewhat sharper than normal incisor teeth. She'd know, she was raised by dentists. "Yes, the motto calms and reassures the general population."

She got the implication that there were hidden meanings behind that, and considering what she'd read in the goblin books, she could take a few educated guesses.

Did the general population really believe that after such violent wars that all would be copacetic? Paired with Flitwick's somewhat intimidating, sardonic smile, she wondered if it wasn't more of a rallying call to their fellow goblins.

Inside the building, Hermione's eyes took a moment to adjust, but when they did, she could say that it resembled a typical bank with in-your-face grandeur, like it should encourage people to entrust their money to businesses that earned substantial enough profit margin to face their walls with shiny sheets of granite and chandeliers big enough crush a car.

Lines of tellers lined either side, towering above the patrons behind dark, gleaming podium booths of polished espresso walnut.

She was certain, since goblins were naturally shorter than witches and wizards, that the height difference was purposeful.

Flitwick led her over to an open one as the goblin ignored them, scratching away with his quill until he was finished. Then, he set his writing utensil aside and moved his black, beady eyes to them, giving a disdainful sniff at Flitwick, and then further at her.

"What can I do for you?"

Hermione, already buzzing with nervous energy from all the knowledge of the goblin wars, told from the side of the goblins, already knew they wouldn't like her on principle, so she let Flitwick do the talking, instead pulling the strings of dark earth brown energy around her and guiding them around her ears in case anyone was speaking Gobbledygook. She was excited to try it out, especially since she hadn't been able to switch to her metavision to ensure she'd achieved the correct brown.

"We would like to open an account for Miss Granger here." Flitwick announced.

"Muggle-born?" the goblin replied in a way that said it wasn't actually a question. And why would it be? Her jeans and jumper stood out like a sore thumb compared to the dress she'd spied on the witches and wizards wandering outside. "You would need to sign this paper giving us the authority to—"

Flitwick cleared his throat. "Ah, we'd actually prefer the more extensive paperwork."

Silence fell over the goblin before them as he gave them another assessing glance, this time with more disdain. "I'm afraid we would not—"

"Excuse me, Bloothrope, but I'll take them from here," a voice interrupted.

The goblin before them, Bloothrope, lost his superior attitude, tripping over his feet to explain himself to this newcomer. "But, sir, it's only a Muggle-born and a half-breed that thinks too highly of him—"