"Sorry, Aunt Petunia."

Chapter 4: Here There Be Goblins

Clearly the goblin was particularly well organized: in just a few short moments he turned around to face them once again, setting the thickest stack of parchment Harry had ever seen on the desk.

“What is this?” Professor Snape asked, his eyebrows so high that they were completely invisible, despite his hairstyle usually allowing for a wide range in their movement. “I am fairly certain that the Potters did not have enough time to write this monstrosity as their wills.”

“You are correct,” Robok said. “This is the log of every irregularity in performance of standard duties related to the vault.”

“I’m hoping that they are all since the establishing of their family vault?” Professor McGonagall said, her voice sounding as if she already knew that that was not the case.

“Yes,” Robok said, turning the book upside down and taking the bottom sheet of paper. “Those are all the irregularities since the seventeenth century. These,” he gestured to the remaining mammoth, “are the irregularities since the thirty-first of October, 1981.”

Professor McGonagall swore something that was so atrocious that Harry didn’t even know what it meant while the other professors looked murderous.

“What happened that day?” he asked, even though he had a suspicion.

“Your parents’ deaths,” the goblin answered, looking at him suspiciously. “I suppose the bank records aren’t the only ones we’d find irregularities in during that time period, are they?”

“No,” Professor Snape said. “There are much more.”

“We suspected as much,” the goblin sighed. “But wizards tend to get terribly outraged whenever we talk about anything other than banking, so we couldn’t really do anything.”

“Do we need to review the entire thing?” Professor McGonagall asked.

“Goodness, no!” Robok looked honestly terrified at the prospect. “It can wait. We don’t have that kind of time right now. The wills might take a while by themselves.”

“Where do you store people’s wills?” Harry asked, his curiosity getting the best of him.

“Usually we have the original in the family vault and then the copies: one is sent to the ministry and another is stored in our specialized vault to prevent any chances of forgery. The copy in the ministry is read with family and closest friends or representatives present. I believe those two wills were read in the presence of,” the goblin checked some different piece of parchment, “‘A. P. W. B. Dumbledore, only.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Professor Snape sighed.

“So we can’t see it?” Harry asked. “Or will we have to go to the ministry? Do they keep the wills after reading them?”

“They don’t,” Professor Flitwick said with a scowl. “They say it would take up ‘too much space,’ like we’re not capable of expanding it! As if they don’t store every prophecy ever made!”

“Oh…”

“You may retrieve the copy from your family vault,” Robok said. “We don’t usually allow children access before they reach the age of maturity, but this is, I believe, one of the cases in which we can make an exception.”

Robok stood up, motioning at them to follow him once again. This time Harry could see where they were going; he recognized that part of the bank from the last time they were there.

The carts.

Harry hoped that they would be just as fun as when he'd ridden them before.

Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick took the first one as the carts for deeper-situated vaults were way smaller than the ones for transporting clients to newer ones.