The Secrets of Slytherin

Chapter 2: The Most Wondrous Gilderoy Lockhart

More than noticing all that, though, Mrs. Weasley was looking beyond the girl, looking for the two figures if her parents... who weren't there. Did they just leave her alone here? A spark of anger flared through her.

"Hello again, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione addressed the woman first, thinking it was only polite. "You may not remember, but I'm Hermione."

Mrs. Weasley hugged her – the poor girl looked so glum , like she needed it – and a flare of panic went through Hermione's mine, before... she clutched the woman back, and I could feel her tears as keenly as if they were my own.

"Mother," Percy cut in, "may we hurry along? I'm to meet with some friends at eleven."

Pretentious prat . The thought echoed between the twins, both of whom were glaring at him.

Mrs. Weasley drew away from Hermione. "Yes, yes. Of course." She glanced disgruntledly at the doors, half-wishing that Hermione's parents would step through. But they didn't. "Well, come along then. Gringotts first."

We followed her out of the Cauldron and into the long, winding street. Gringotts stood a few loops and turns from the Leaky Cauldron, a story higher than most of the surrounding buildings, bright and white and blinding in the morning sun. It formed an awkward, slightly crooked V shape, perched as it was, with Diagon Alley curving off to the left and Horizont beginning on its right.

Along the way, as Mrs. Weasley began to berate the twins for some callous comment, I fell in with Elaine and Hermione - the latter of whom seemed to be focused on changing the color of her socks to a vibrant yellow, red, and blue.

"So... having a good summer?"

"Not even close," Elaine murmured, eyeing her mother.

Hermione winced. "It's been normal."

We'd reached Gringotts by this point. I nodded politely to the guards as we passed, both of whom sneered back at me in response.

Inside, the round lobby somehow managed to gleam even more than the exterior, everything - from the long, curved counter goblins self-importantly counted out jewels or wrote in ledgers heavy enough to beat someone to death with, to the columns lining the room, to the marble floors - white as pure as freshly fallen snow. A series of silver doors sat at intervals, and the ceiling overhead domed and held an ornate mural. However, instead of the typical happy images of cupids on clouds or beautiful angels, the mural showed a vicious, bloody battlefield, goblins and wizards clashing, heads being cut off with mighty axes, goblins falling under vicious green spells, rather realistically painted blood pooling beneath bodies.

Never, ever forget the viciousness of goblins. That was Rule 3 of surviving the wizarding world.

Mrs. Weasley moved to the first teller, but I skipped further along, Hermione and Elaine trailing after me like baby ducks, to the fourth teller along the row. The goblin didn't look up from his ledger, even as I stretched on my toes - seriously, why were the counters so tall? The goblins were shorter than me! - to prop my arms on the counter,though his writing became even more furious. "Hello, Agnok."

"Hello, witchling," he snarled.

"How's your summer going?"

His writing stalled. "Rather well." He looked up, deep, black eyes that may easily be described as soulless meeting mine, and smiled widely, showing sharp, sharp teeth. "I was allowed to slaughter a traitor a few days ago. His body is still displayed in the Hall of Trade."