Harry Riddle || Harry potter

Chapter 43: Very Secret Diaries of a Mudblood Gaunt

The Gaunt Vault, buried several miles below the ground under Gringotts Bank, had been empty for nearly three hundred years, ever since Morton Gaunt had drunk away what remained of the fortune his father, Malvolio Gaunt, had squandered on an addiction to Felix Felicis and a trophy wife named Elvira.

However, it had stayed in the family for the next generations in the hope that someone would come along to fill it back up. But, Malvolio and Morton would probably have both died of their respective substance problems if they'd known that the next person to set foot in the vault would be their mudblooded descendant.

Harry had gotten home in the mid-afternoon and spent the first two hours like he'd predicted, having nothing short of an argument with his father over his grades compared to Hermione's. He almost wondered how the man even knew what everyone had scored, but guessed that Severus must've given them to him, like he did all information that could prove semi-profitable.

Harry decided he hated spies. In fact, now that he gave it thought, how did one even get to be a spy? Was that a career one could discuss with their Head of House at the end of their seventh year? "Yes, Professor, I want to put myself in danger of both the Dementor's Kiss and a gruesome end at the hands of a Dark Lord by becoming a double agent. I hope I have enough N.E.W.T.s for it."

But, no matter. After Harry had worked his voice raw protesting that his grades were perfectly fine, Voldemort had finally gone down to his potions lab in the dungeon. Technically, it was a basement, as muggle houses didn't have dungeons, but what with all the chains crusted with dried blood, the well used torture mechanisms, and musty old cells, it could very well count as a dungeon.

What his father was doing Harry didn't know, but he used the peace and quiet to think up a plan as to where to hide the Stone. He couldn't very well keep it anywhere in the Manor, as some overly helpful House Elf was bound to find it one day and hand it over to Voldemort. Then again, Voldemort would also find it if he put it in the Riddle Vault. So where was he to hide it?

He'd thought on it for awhile before the answer came to him—why not put it in the long abandoned, utterly empty Gaunt Vault? To the best of his knowledge, his father had inherited—or stolen—the key to it from old Uncle Morfin, the one who was moderately retarded and could only speak Parseltongue. He was almost certain that it had sat empty ever since, the key gathering dust in a drawer in Voldemort's office.

So, it hadn't been difficult to swipe it, yell down at his father that he was going to Malfoy Manor, and floo to the Leaky Cauldron. He'd had the urge to buy some dinner (he hadn't eaten since the Leaving Ceremony, after all, and there was a roast chicken and mashed potato special that looked positively delectable) but decided that he neither had the time nor the stomach for it, what with the Gringotts' cart rides being as they were.

He'd hurried through the streets, avoiding the areas frequented by Dark Wizards, and now had finally arrived at the bank, which looked almost exactly the same as it had in August, with some differences. There were a few more goblins prowling around, all with nasty looks on their faces, and more notably, gigantic trolls standing by the doors that led to the cart ride access. They were taller than the ones Harry had seen at school, a bit more human looking, with stringy hair, bulging eyes, and twisted yellow teeth. They growled amongst each other, holding up their clubs and apparently comparing size.

"Security trolls," said a gentle male voice to his left. Harry looked up and found that, at some point, a man had come in the front doors after him and stopped to look. He was small and straggly, with strange yellow eyes and brown hair, which was very obviously starting to grey despite him only looking to be in his thirties.

Something about him reminded Harry of Fenrir Greyback, and he suddenly felt nervous.

"They've been here since the robbery in August—but they make everyone a bit . . ." The man shrugged, and smiled.