The Potter Twins and the Deathly Hallows {7}

28. Shell Cottage

"What d'you mean, gone on?" asks Ron, but before I can say anymore, a voice behind us says, "'Arry? 'Aylee?"

Fleur has come out of the cottage, her long, silver hair flying in the breeze. 

"Griphook would like to speak to you. 'E eez in ze smallest bedroom, 'e says 'e does not want to be over 'eard."

Her dislike of the goblin sending her to deliver messages is clear; she looks irritable as she walks back around the house. 

Griphook is waiting for us, as Fleur said, in the tiniest of the cottage's three bedrooms, in which Hermione, Luna, and I sleep by night. He has drawn the red cotton curtains against the bright, cloudy sky, which gives the room a fiery glow ar odds with the rest of the airy, light cottage. 

"I have reached my decision, Harry and Haylee Potter," says the goblin, who is sitting cross-legged in a low chair, drumming its arms with his spindly fingers. "Though the goblins of Gringotts will consider it base treachery, I have decided to help you --"

"That's great!" says Harry, as relief surges through me. "Griphook, thank you, we're really --"

"-- in return," says the goblin firmly, "for payment."

Slightly taken aback, we hesitate. 

"How much do you want? We've got gold."

"Not gold," says Griphook, "I have gold."

His black eyes glitter; there are no whites to them.

"I want the sword. The sword of Godric Gryffindor."

My spirits plummet. 

"You can't have that," Harry says. "We're sorry."

"Then," the goblin says softly, "we have a problem."

"We can give you something else," says Ron eagerly. "I'll bet the Lestranges have got loads of stuff; you can take your pick once we get into the vault."

He's said the wrong thing. Griphook flushes angrily. 

"I am not a thief, boy! I am not trying to procure treasures to which I have no right!"

"The sword's ours --"

"It is not," says the goblin. 

"We're Gryffindors, and it was Godric Gryffindor's --"

"And before it was Gryffindor's, whose was it?" demands Griphook, sitting up straight. 

"No one's," says Ron. "it was made for him, wasn't it?"

"No!" cries Griphook, bristling with anger as he points a long finger at Ron. "Wizarding arrogance again! That sword was Ragnuk the First's, taken from him by Godric Gryffindor! It is a lost treasure, a masterpiece of goblinwork! It belongs with the goblins! The sword is the price of my hire, take it or leave it!"

Griphook glares at us. Harry and I glance at each other and then to the other two. "We need to discuss this, Griphook if that's all right. Could you give us a few minutes??

The goblin nods, looking sour. 

Downstairs in the empty sitting room, I walk to the fireplace, trying to think of what to do. Behind me, Ron says, "He's having a laugh. We can't let him have that sword."

"Is it true?" Harry asks Hermione. "Was the sword stolen by Gryffindor?"

"I don't know," she says hopelessly. "Wizarding history often skates over what the wizards have done to other magical races, but there's no account that I know of that says Gryffindor stole the sword."