The man sitting at the kitchen table was the sort who looked like he had a stick up his ass. A suite worn to perfection with not a single button crooked or piece of fabric wrinkled, his fading grey hair slicked to the side using a cheap hair gel. His chair tucked into the table so his back could sit obnoxiously straight, as if he always conscious about just how his spine sat.
Infront of him was a black brief case, one that he no doubt polished and shined in regular intervals. His shockingly large fingers drumming on it as he waited. Every couple seconds he'd check the silver watch on his wrist, as if he was running out of time. Square Glasses perched on his nose as he squinted down to look down at the tiny numbers.
A girl walked in the room, young, pretty— the girl that we know to be Aveline Rosier. She was dressed in summer muggle clothes, wild curls not even attempted to be flattened. The man had to admit, this was not at all what he was expecting when he was told he had to go read the Will and Testament of Elanor Rosier to her two surviving children. He had just finished up with her brother prior to this, the 17 year old child was wearing an armani black suite, and glared at him the entire time sending shivers down his spine.
Though this one looked quite normal— nice even.
"You must me Aveline Rosier, I'm Mr Crawley, your parents wizarding attorney," his voice was rather nasally, as if he had the bridge of his nose pinch. A shaky fumbling mess as he stood up to shake her hand.
"It's a pleasure Mr Cawley," she addressed him back, her tone flat, no evident of a smile on her face. She wasn't at all surprised by his visit. It was the day after her 17 birthday, and no doubt he had been waiting all summer to stop by.
Similar to her brother she spoke with a regal tone, as if royalty was wafting off her breath. For a moment he was doubting if he jumped to soon to the conclusion of her being nice. He had met the childrens mother, this young girl looked exactly like her.
And Elanor Rosier was perhaps the most insane client he ever had to deal with in the past 20 years of career.
"So let's just jump right into shall we?" he said, already sifting through his brief case and pulled out a stack of papers thicker then her head. He licked the back of his thumb, the only sound in the room the flickering of the paper as he squinted, searching for the one he needed. "Ah here we go!"
He turned a piece of paper towards her so she could read it, though she didn't care too. Her eyes briefly glancing over the elegant writing before looking back at him with steal in her eyes. Anyone who worked for her parents she didn't trust nor did she want to be around for more then a couple minutes
"So as your father— Mr Rosier— is being held in azkaban as long as he is held behind bars the funds in the Rosier vault are to be handed down to you and your brother— Evan. Your parents never specified how they wished to divide it up, so like I said to Evan it'll be a free for all," he tried to joke, but it fell flat. The man awkwardly clearing his throat before continuing. "So I'll just give you this," he pulled a key from the brief case, sliding it across to her.
It was the ones she seen her father use many times. Silver and elegant, simple yet somehow bold, like everything the Rosier's did. Perfectly shined with vines carved into the handle, the Rosier family crest shining on the top.
"Now for the matter of Rosier Mansion, as neither Mr nor Mrs Rosier are able to claim the property rights," he paused, looking down at the paper in front of him, "they had wished for it to be under Evan's name. So unfortunately, the house will not be divided evenly between the two of you. If you wish to challenge this—"
"I don't," she cut him off. She had zero interest in that stupid house and everything that came with it.
"— but if you do you can take it up with the department meant of dead and unavailable wizarding artifacts and properties."
Let Evan have the house. Let Evan have every ounce of Gold in the Rosier vault, as long as it meant she never had to step foot in that cold mansion again. She could be free from what tied her that place.
"Now, onto your mothers Will...."
Aveline couldn't possible picture what her mother had to offer her. She was a pureblood woman married to a Rosier man. Any gold or anything of value when she married him would've automatically become his. Listened in his personal accounts and records.
Perhaps Elenor had left her something trivial and pointless like old jewelry or an old dress, something that she would either sell and give the boys the money to get something stupid, or give to the girls if it was pretty. She had zero interest in the stuff of Elenor Rosier.
"So to your brother she left nothing," the man explained as he was re reading the will, to make sure he got all the details correct. "And to you, she left the key to her vault and her treasured gold knife."
As he was talking he took the first two objects out of his brief case. The first she was not expecting, an old looking rusted key that was tiny in comparison to the Rosier one. She was not aware her mother even had a vault, let alone anything to put in it.
The second object though, shocked her, more so because she should've expected it. He opened an old looking battered black box, to reveal the very same gold knife her mother tried to stab her with. It shone in the light as it was mocking her. He slid the box over to her and she didn't dare to even touch it. Just stared at it was if it was an old enemy.
"Any questions?" he asked, anxious to get out of there and away from both of the strange Rosier children.
"What's the number?" she asked, not even looking up from the gold knife.
"Sorry what?"
"The number of the vault? My mothers?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at him.
"Sorry- sorry Miss I just assumed you would've known it— it's number 13."
She nodded, the man bidding her goodbye and disappearing with a pop. The Potter's had all cleared from the kitchen to give her space, so she sat there for a moment in the silence of the large room. Her eyes still glued to the golden blade.
For some reason she didn't want to touch it. So softly she placed the lid back on the box, letting it disappear from her eyesight.
She looked down at the two vault keys sitting on the table. It looked like a trip to Diagon Alley was due.
________
"You wish too see vault number 13?"
The Gobling staring down at her seemed to taunt her with his voice. As if he was seriously doubting that she even had the right to be standing in Gringotts.
It was intimidating— Gringotts was. With floors that echoed with every step you took, and nearly 50 pairs of goblin eyed glaring down at you the moment you entered.
Sirius gone inside with her, the boy having money left to him by his favourite Uncle in a vault and wanting to replenish his coin stash. He was standing behind her, waiting his turn to adress the goblins. The rest had waited aside, sitting on a picnic table enjoying ice cream cones not even wanting to step inside the terrifying bank.
"Yes," she stated. "I have the key if you'd like to see-"
"You couldn't possibly have the key to number 13. Out of the way girl— NEXT!"
He was already looking behind her to where Sirius stood, beckoning him forward so he could get of the girl. Aveline jaw clenched, the girl staying exactly where she was.
"Excuse me I am Aveline Rosier, and I am not asking I am telling you, you will take me both to my vault as well as vault number 13."
She turned on all the annoying lessons on power and persuasion her father gave her. Her head held high and her voice turned up in its regality and firmness. She pulled to the two keys out of her pocket, sliding them on the desk towards the Goblin.
For a moment he just stared at her face very closely. As if he was trying to dissect her piece by piece. Then ever so slowly he turned his gaze towards the keys, glasses perched on his long nose as studied them even closer.
Without saying anything he handed them both back to her.
"Come. I will take you myself," he told her, hopping down from his seat and waddling away.
She gave Sirius a flash of a fearful smile as she followed, her hands folded in front trying to remain as calm as possible.
The goblin led her down a dark hallway, lit by old fashion torches frames the stone brick walls. Spider webs and dust floating in the cracks between, as if no one had ever cleaned it. There footsteps echoed, the sound of something dripping hitting her ears even though there was no water in sight.
"You better hang on tight," he grunted as he made his way onto a wooden roller coaster looking cart, motioning for Aveline to follow.
The moment both of her feet hit the rickety surface of the cart, it took off flying. Zero to one hundred in one second style, sending her flying back against the seat. Gripping the edges with shaky white knuckles. Her hair flying everywhere as wind whipped in her face, as she started up at the Goblin who was balancing on the edge as if it was nothing.
It came to abrupt stop, giving Aveline borderline whiplash as she got thrown into one of the walls of the cart.
"Rosier family vault #666," the man deadpanned, waiting for her to get up.
Aveline found herself on her feet, trying her best to flatten her wild hair and look like she wasn't about to throw up.
The Rosier fault was huge. Row after row of gold in any form you could think— brick, nuggets, necklaces, bracelets, crowns, cowns. Piles and piles of various gem stones and such. As if they were dragons making hoards of riches. Aveline made her way to the mountain of gold counts sitting in one of the corners, placing a few in a small coin purse she had in her pocket. She probably could've taken over 1000 galleons from the stack and it wouldn't even make a dent, that's how many were there.
When she did eventually make her way back into the cart, she braced herself this time. Only being thrown back with a soft controlled thump as the coaster went flying. And flying it do go indeed, on some of the steepest inclined and falls aveline had ever experience . The track dropping down into tunnels, deeper and deeper into the cave. The light around them getting darker, as they went on and on and on.
The coaster came to its screeching halt infront of a jagged piece of rock with nothing more then a 12 inch ledge jutting out. There was no door, except for the tiniest black stone covered key hole in the centre of the wall.
"Here you are Miss Rosier, vault #13," his voice seemed to be a mocking tone, as he watched her horrified look as she stared at the tiny ledge.
Aveline made the stupid mistake of looking down, and her stomach twisted as she realized she couldn't even see the bottom. Just an endless pitch of darkness and rock beneath her.
Gulping, she every so slowly put one of her feet on the ledge.
"I can always take you back if you don't wish to see the vault," the goblin mocked again, a smirk on his face.
There was nothing more Aveline despised then not being take seriously. Perhaps it was her stubborn nature or something deep inside her wanting to prove herself, but she bit the bullet— practically jumping up onto the tiny ledge. Her fingers gripping the small shards of the rock to keep herself steady. She fumbled with the key in her pocket, trying her best to stay balanced. Then delicately she reached forward, clicking into the lock.
It was a bit of a fumble, as if the door hadn't been opened in centuries. It creaking under the presence of the key, as if it wasn't used to it. She pushed the door open, putting a bit of weight behind it as it scraped on the rock floor.
A waft of dust hit her nose as she stepped in. The girl waving her hand infront of her face as she let out a cough. At first she couldn't see anything, the darkness too much for her eyes to handle.
Though when her eyes did adjust, she was met with the sight of absolutely nothing. Just dark black rock and dust bunnies dancing in the corner.
For a moment she just stood there, thinking about what her mother was possibly thinking when she left her this stupid vault.
Was it so she could start a life of her own beyond the Rosier's?
The possibility was certainly there. As much as the woman was a psychopath Aveline liked to think she cared. Though Elenor Rosier was never that sort of proactive thinker, and she certainly wasn't planning on dying anytime soon.
A light from behind her caught her attention, and she turned around to see the Goblin— griphook she thought his name was— standing with the lantern in his hands, a couple feet behind her.
"I suppose your Miss Elenor Rosier's spawn?" he asked, not at all impressed. When she nodded he grunted. "She's dead then?"
Aveline nodded again, and once again, he grunted. He lifted the light up as to bring some on Aveline's face. His beady black eyes narrowed at her for an uncomfortable amount of time. Right when Aveline was about to speak he reached out a long bony finger, pointing to the very back wall.
"If you are who you claim to be, you should put your hand on the third brick from the top, fifth from the left."
Aveline felt like a complete idiot. For surely nothing would happen, as she stretched out her right hand and placed it on the cold stone.
The minute her fingers touched it, she felt a flinch of warmth run through them. As if a fire had started beneath her hands, for a moment she was going to pull away but thought better.
Then slowly like a book open, the wall began to rumble. Flicks of stone and dust flying off as it pulled back, revealing a whole new entrance way.
As if in a trance Aveline stepped forward, her jaw dropped as instantly a dozen torches on either side of the walls began flowing with red flames. Engulfing the whole place in a soft red glow.
It was a hall looking room of sorts. Long and skinny, the floor, walls and roof all glazed with a gold looking material. Carved with intricate looking patterns, such as a chariot being pulled by horses. Men wielding spears, and many more.
Though perhaps strangest part for Aveline was the mere content of this strange fault. Everything was very organized and orderly, as opposed to the Rosier vault.
Rows upon rows of neatly stacked amber gemstones in gold crates sat in one corner. Polished and protected golden weapons and armour in glass cabinets on other walls. This vault alone had to be worth at least 3x the amount of the Rosier's by the sheer amount of expensive looking gold bars and jewels in fancy cases.
She walked slowly, her eyes wide looking around as she did. And of course, in the very back left corner where 12 gold knives sat, immediately drew her attention. They looked to be the exact same as the one Aveline had at home, sitting in an old wooden box. It was odd, she noticed. Everything seemed to be in 13's. There was 13 gold speers, 13 breast plated, 13 helmets and 13 knives— including the one that sat in her bedroom.
She turned around to see Griphook standing in the doorway, as if he couldn't go any farther. It was then that she noticed a soft shimmer infront of him. This place was heavily protected by some sort of magic, though what she could not tell.
"So you are who you say you are," Griphoom said, his voice loud and billowing into the long hall.
For a moment she hesitated, rounding to face him. "And who might that be?" she asked.
He studied her with her complex eyes. And it was almost as if he was slightly weary of her now that she was standing there. As if he knew something she didn't.
"The last surviving member of the Helios woman," he deadpanned, his voice deep and almost resentful.
And then, he walked away. As if he had no more he needed nor wanted to say. She was going to follow, until a very out of place object found the corner of her eye.
It was a book. With yellowing parchamet and a brown leather plain cover. She picked up in her hands, blowing off layer of dust as she opened it with a creak to reveal long and elegant curved hand writing.
"Are you coming Miss Rosier?" snapped Griphook, in a clearly pissed off tone.
She startled, tucking the book into her jacket. "Coming!" she called, rushing back to the cart without a second look at all the gold she was leaving behind.