The New Marauder

Eleven

    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.

    "They don't even need magic to threaten anyone; they're scary as is," Sam whispers.
    "Maybe they know there are some out there who are crazy enough to try to rob it anyways," I whisper back as another guard opens the doors.
    Whatever Sam was gonna say was lost on me when we walked into the bank. Walking into Gringotts is like stepping into a really old fancy castle made of gold and marble. The floors are super shiny, like they polished them every hour. Goblins who aren't at the really tall rows of desks are running around everywhere, looking super busy pulling small carts from desk to desk.
    I stumble a bit when Sam points out the humongous chandelier hanging from the ceiling. The only thing I could think when we walked under it was how bad it would suck if it fell on us. When we reach the end of the path, there is another tall desk I can barely see over, with a goblin who keeps writing in a big book with a feather while two more goblin guards behind him are giving us some serious stares.
    The longer we stand here not saying anything, the more aware I am of how my heartbeat starts frantically beating in my chest. There's a bunch of clinking sounds, driving my ears crazy; I think it's the sound of coins being counted because the air smells kinda metallic, a mix of exciting and a bit scary. Anna says this is where my family kept all their money. I thought it was funny, keeping your money in a bank that has only one big location, but now seeing all of this, I understand why they chose this place over Wells Fargo.
    "Mrs. Black left very specific instructions for young Ms. Black." The goblin saying my name pulls me out of my thoughts. Looking up at the tall desk, I flinch at the cold glare he gives me in return. "To ensure the curses on the vault will not affect Ms. Black when she enters her vault, we will need a spot of her blood to match it to the vault."   
    "Blood?" I squeak, backing away.
    "Not much, just a prick of your finger," Anna answers soothingly.
    Taking a deep breath, I step toward the side of his desk facing the goblin and hold out my hand to him. Instead of taking it, he reaches into a drawer and pulls out an old shiny dagger. The only thing I can think about as he pokes the warm tip into the end of my finger is, why is everything here shiny? Do goblins just like shiny things or is it because they are obsessed with gold?
    "Ah yes," he murmurs, letting my blood drip onto an even older-looking parchment. I swear I could hear it hiss as a small swirl of smoke rises out of it. "Griphook and I will assist you and one other to your vault, Ms. Black," he says with a bow.
    "Um, thank you?" I answer as Anna pulls me to her and wraps up my finger.
    "I will come with you as we need to stop at another vault; I would rather make this trip short," Professor McGonagall makes the decision for Anna and Theo.
    "Right this way," the older goblin says leading us to another fancy door.
    "What other vault are we going to?" I ask her quietly.
    "There is a discretionary fund set up for those who wish to attend Hogwarts but need help for their supplies."
    "Sam?" I ask worried.
    "Yes, we may need to purchase some things secondhand, but I think we should have enough to cover it," Professor McGonagall nods curtly as we reach a weird-looking cart on thin rails. "Now hop in, no more questions; I'm afraid these rides make anyone who rides them not want to talk."
    Sitting in one of the seats, my hands shake as I try to buckle the crazy seatbelt. After the fifth attempt, I hear the professor let out a sigh before her hands appear, helping me strap in tightly. "You do not need to worry; these rails have stood the test of time for thousands of years," she whispers, leaning back into her seat.
    By the time we reach the professor's vault, my fears are almost washed away. With the speed of the small cart mixed in with the dingy smell of the underground caves and all the twists and turns, put my mind at ease when I imagine that we were on one of the rides at Six Flags Uncle Charlie took us to two years ago.
    Her stop was quick, and before I knew it, we were lurching back into the craziness of the cart. Honestly, I was fighting the urge to hold up my arms and yell in happiness every time we took an insane turn or the rails would steep and plunge us further into the caves.
    "Almost there," the old goblin calls out just before a loud roar shakes the cart.
    "What was that?" I ask, looking to my professor when the cart comes to a stop.
    "Your family is an old family. Your lineage runs all the way back to the Middle Ages, probably even further."
    "The Ancient and Noble House of Black was one of the first to obtain a vault at Gringotts. Your many times great-grandfather Phineas Black was one of the few wizards who invested in Gringotts when we opened in fourteen seventy-four. For that, we have offered those who did the most secure protection we have to offer," the older goblin says, talking over Professor McGonagall, leading us down a rocky edge to a spot that is held up by those column things the Greeks and Romans used.
    It seems as if someone tried to build from here but gave up after realizing they would also have to work on the entire cache systems. Though despite the grungy feeling that soaks into me from being down this low in the ground, the ground turning from a wet almost slippery ground to a dull marble path makes me feel a bit better about my chances of making it out of this dark creepy place alive.
    That was until another deafening roar fills the cave, shaking the ground and my bones alike. "The Dragon of Gringotts," Professor McGonagall tells me as if it should ease my racing heart.
    "A dragon?!" I almost shout.
    "We take security very seriously here," the old goblin says as he and Griphook pick up two identical metal cowbell-looking things and start clanging them. "This is to let the Dragon know we are not thieves," he shouts over the noise.
    Following him around the columns, my heart drops as a pale dragon with cloudy grey eyes laden down with heavy metal chains wrapped around his neck and back feet comes into view. The chains that hold him to the ground have left his neck, claws, and what's left of his wings riddled with scars. The way he cowers and whines at the sound the goblins are making forces me to realize that the noise tortures him. I turn to Professor McGonagall to say something; however, when she gives me a firm look, I back down and let my heart grow heavy with guilt.
    "Vault seven hundred and one," Griphook says as we move to stand behind him. "Key, please."
    We watch as the older goblin hands over my small key and then takes his dagger out of his pocket. "We will need a bit of your blood once more, Ms. Black, to reverse the curses placed on the contents within."
    Giving him my hand, I tremble as the blade runs across the palm of my hand. "Will I have to do this every time?" I ask, wincing as he takes my hand and presses it against the cool heavy door.
    "No, Ms. Black. This procedure is done once in a witch or wizard's lifetime; once the vault recognizes you for who you are, only then it will truly belong to you. From then on, it will only allow you and those who you allow into it without being cursed," the old one explains as he cuts his own palm and places it next to mine.
    The sounds of gears turning and slight hisses, the door literally melts away dissolving the key like it's been dipped in acid while letting out thick green smoke that makes me want to jump backward, but I hold strong until Griphook takes my hand and gives it to Professor McGonagall who cleans my hand then heals it with a tap of her wand.
    "Holy shit," I utter in complete disbelief looking into the obscenely large vault filled with old-looking books, paintings, suits of armor, cabinets full of expensive-looking china. So much fragile-looking stuff filled the vault that I'm afraid to walk into it. But the thing that caught my eye was the mounds upon mounds of coins, most golden with smaller stacks of silver and bronze.
    "Might as well inform you now, cursing will not be tolerated at Hogwarts, Ms. Black. However, I will excuse your tongue this once," I hear Professor McGonagall say in a soft tone. "Here, why don't you fill this up," she holds out a medium leather pouch. "The small bronze ones are Knuts, the silver ones are called Sickles, and the gold ones are Galleons. Twenty-nine Knuts equal one Sickle, and seventeen Sickles equal one Galleon."
    "What now?" I ask thoroughly confused at what she just said as I make my way gently around the artifacts, afraid to touch them when an idea pops into my head. "Hey Professor, can I see Sam's coin bag?"
    "If it is for the reason I think you are asking, then you should know—"
    "He doesn't have to know where the money came from," I pout. "And plus, I'll never use all of this in my lifetime, why not share it?" I gesture to the coins all around me then hold out my hand for his bag.
    After another moment of thinking, Professor McGonagall narrows her eyes at me before handing it over. "Just enough to cover his supplies, Ms. Black."
    "Yes ma'am," I beam in response while shoving handfuls of gold coins into both bags, filling them almost to the brim. "Ready?" I ask when I'm done tucking them both in my jacket so she won't be able to see.
    "I know what you did," she says, eyeing me carefully as we make our way back to the cart.
    "I'm sorry, Professor; I don't know what you're talking about." I grin back.