Chapter 140
The goblin sat behind a massive oak desk, his golden monocle on a chain glinting in the light of the magical lamps. The lens was covered in tiny runes that seemed to move when he shifted his gaze from one object to another. His sharp teeth were bared in a smirk.
"Only four working artifacts, Mr. Malfoy… Black-Malfoy," he rasped, laying them out on a velvet cushion.
The rest, as I understood, were simply jewelry, or had weak, unpowered charms that had stopped working.
I silently examined each artifact. Two rings — one of them, as the goblin immediately identified, was simply a lower-middle segment artifact. Worth no more than a couple of hundred Galleons. It was clearly meant to be worn by a healer — in theory, it helped with blocked magical channels. But if your channels are fine, the ring would only do harm.
"This… second ring," the goblin picked up a thick gold ring with complex floral engraving and a large white opal set in the metal. "Very interesting."
His bony, gnarled fingers even trembled as he held the ring. He turned it before my eyes. I noticed how the goblin barely contained the greedy gleam in his eyes.
"And what's so special about it?"
The goblin bared his teeth — wider than before.
"This is a very old ring. Using technologies either unknown to us or long forgotten. Gringotts could offer a good price for it. More than it's even worth."
"Why?" I asked, narrowing my eyes.
"Studying the ring's working principle could help our craftsmen produce such items themselves," the goblin replied, not hiding his greed. "The artifact detects poisons — both magical and non-magical. But unlike those currently in use, this specimen works on a different principle and has an activation function."
He raised the ring higher, and the white opal sparkled.
"It reacts to any potion. The only difference is the color of the glow. Green means non-magical poisons. Blue means safe or semi-safe magical compounds. Red means magical poisons and anything magical that harms health."
"So it will constantly change color?"
"Except for the red shade, all the others only appear in the activated state — when the hand is clenched into a fist. This system is very unusual. The ring also warns about curses and dark magic on objects, but only in the active state. Then the opal will start to darken. But the ring is old and may not detect all poisons known today."
That lowers the price. I took the ring in my hands and turned it over. A weighty little ring…
"How much?" I asked, narrowing my eyes.
"Ten thousand Galleons," the goblin replied, his voice unwavering.
I smirked.
"No, that's not enough."
We haggled until we reached…
"Twenty-two thousand Galleons."
If the goblin is offering a sum much higher than even the most expensive artifact rings, then there's something to it. Of course, it's very possible the artifact is no more useful than two ordinary specialized artifacts, but a few tens of thousands of Galleons mean nothing to me. Better to have the opportunity to study and use it. After all, it performs several functions at once. And if it turns out to be a truly valuable and unique item, I could earn much more from it by starting to make rings on the same principle myself.
"Since you're offering such a price, I won't agree even to a larger sum," I said, returning the ring to the cushion. "But I'm willing to sell it if I can order twelve throwing knives made of goblin silver."
The goblin grimaced — on his face, it looked especially unpleasant. For a second, I thought he was about to lose it, but he restrained himself. Only his fingers, resting on the table, trembled slightly.
"I'm not authorized, but no goblin smith will exchange twelve of their products for coins!"
The thing is, buying goblin-forged items made of goblin silver (steel) was an extremely difficult task nowadays. Perhaps I could have exchanged this ancient ring for two or three knives, but I wasn't going to do that.
"See how unpleasant it is. Well then, I won't be trading family heirlooms either."
"As you wish," he hissed. "But you're losing a profit. A great profit!"
I remained silent. It was worth a try, in case it worked. In any case, I had ordered throwing knives from a master in Diagon Alley, as well as a batch of silver snake-shaped brooches specifically for the students loyal to the Council.
"There was a dark curse on the artifact," the goblin added suddenly. "We removed it. There will be an additional charge for curse-breaking."
I nodded.
The amulet remaining on the cushion was no less interesting. I noticed how the goblin's fingers slid over its surface and how he barely restrained himself from grabbing it and pocketing it.
"The artifact is designed to protect the mind," he said, something like envy in his voice. "An expensive specimen, made in Romania by a Master Artificer from the Artificers' Guild. His initials are there. Age — a couple of decades."
He paused.
"Gringotts could offer a good price for it. Six thousand Galleons, or even more."
"Not for sale," I replied firmly.
The goblin frowned even more.
"As you wish," he repeated. "But you're losing the opportunity to gain considerable funds."
"I'm not selling," I replied, looking him straight in the eye. "If you're not haggling."
The goblin didn't answer.
I, of course, didn't really need this amulet, but since it was such an expensive artifact, why not? I don't think it's that easy to get even if you have the money to live on for about five years.
The last artifact was small — a sword-shaped metal key. Literally a pointed tip, like a sword. This curious little key concealed considerable complexity. It was a one-use bypass key, as the goblin explained. A very powerful bypass key. These currently cost from two to four thousand Galleons and can create a one-way passage through almost any barrier restricting movement.
"Almost?" I repeated.
"A few barriers," the goblin replied, his voice becoming thoughtful. "Or static barriers like those protecting old manors — it won't break through those."
When I left Gringotts, it was already dark. Diagon Alley was almost empty — only the occasional passerby hurried about their business, bundled in their robes. I, surrounded by guards, put my hand in my pocket, feeling the key.
And now I also had a ring on my left hand. I left my old one on my right, but this one needed testing. The goblin's words had thrown a spoonful of tar into this barrel of honey. But I had no doubt he might have said it just to get me to sell the ring. He could hide information from me as long as he wasn't asked a direct question, but he could assume as much as he liked. That was probably why he tried to lower the price.
The better mind-protection amulet was now under my shirt, replacing the previous gift from my parents. Everything else, except for the bypass key I was fidgeting with in my pocket, was now in my expanded-space bag. After talking with the Council members, I had managed to buy a couple of expanded-space bags and had already put all the gold I planned to take from both vaults into them. The solicitor was clearly displeased, as a portion of the annual maintenance fees for the Black vaults went into his pocket.
My mother, as I expected, met me in the entrance hall with a worried face. But lately, I've been trying to answer all questions with:
"Never mind."
She didn't stop me. She chalked it all up to teenage rebellion, to that fight, and to the anger that had been boiling inside me after everything that had happened. And she was right to do so.
Although I sensed that Narcissa Black wasn't the type to tolerate such ignorance for long. A little more at this pace, and she would start taking my upbringing seriously, so it was time to gradually re-establish contact.
The very next day, I took care of the issue of the vault with the sealed chest. Namely, I wanted to hire outside curse-breakers, but the solicitor ultimately convinced me to let the goblin experts examine it first. In the end, he convinced me by saying the assessment would be free.
As it turned out, the chest had charms and curses on it so strong that it could only be opened, without destroying it and its contents, with a key, which most likely was the family signet ring. In short, the effort was unnecessary. Good thing I didn't go looking for other curse-breakers; otherwise, besides wasting time, I'd have had to pay. Only the solicitor was more disappointed, having clearly expected me to pay a large sum for their specialists' work. That's why he organized the inspection for free. This once again confirmed to me that at Gringotts, the solicitors of ancient and noble houses were, by the hierarchy of their position, just below the managers of various branches.
The next day, I could no longer avoid questions, not only about my wanderings in Diagon Alley from my mother. I hadn't expected Lucius to be ready for a conversation so soon.
But there were two factors that helped break our mutual cold-shouldering. The first factor was that he finally found the time, having been busy all these days resisting Dumbledore's attacks from all sides. It turned out this was still ongoing — Dumbledore, using all his power in the Ministry and beyond, was actively throwing spanners in the works wherever he could. The business was suffering greatly. It became clearer why the guards didn't want to let me go alone even into Gringotts — and they were also inside the restaurant, waiting for me. And that was only because I managed to convince them not to stand over my shoulder.
The second, more important factor was that in a few hours, we were supposed to be at Rosier Manor! In all this bustle, I hadn't realized how close the day I had wanted to run away from a year ago had come. Yes, today was already January 4th…
I remembered back then I had bought myself a year to choose; now there was no choice at all. I wondered if I had been smarter and chosen to betroth Celine back then, how much would that have changed the relationship between our families? Would they have tried to pull the same thing behind our backs? I had no answer to this question, and something inside my skull was scratching, something connected to Celine. The last piece of memory, still a blank spot, wouldn't let me assemble the mosaic of my erased memories.
Outside my father's study, when I arrived, there was a guard. I recognized him — he was one of the fighters who guarded my father everywhere… everywhere except Malfoy Manor.
I nodded to him, entering the study. He inclined his head slightly, and I entered without knocking.
Lucius stood by the fireplace, leaning on his cane. His face was impenetrable, but I could see his fingers gripping the handle. He turned around as I closed the door behind me.
"Binny said you wanted to talk," I said, stopping by the desk.
"Yes," he turned, his gaze sweeping over me, then he said coldly: "But I want to talk without attacks. I hope you understand that our family is not barbaric."
I smirked, considering where the Malfoys came from.
"I keep thinking, since when do you need a guard in the house? Do you think he'll make it inside?"
"What did you say!?"
Lucius tensed. I saw his fingers tighten on the cane and something like… fear? No, not fear, rather wariness, flash across his face.
I bared my teeth — not smiled, but snarled, feeling something dark and long-suppressed begin to boil inside. But no… not now.
"That's why it was necessary to develop your magical skills, Father," I said, my voice quiet, but each word falling into the silence. "You've always treated that with contempt. And my training too. However… otherwise, how could a situation arise where Voldemort or Dumbledore keep you all in fear? And you yourselves are eager to hasten the decline of the Sacred Twenty-Eight."
"Enough!" Lucius barked, his voice echoing through the study. "Don't you dare think yourself important anymore! A worthless boy who understands nothing! And don't speak that name!"
"Why should I be afraid to speak the name of Lord Voldemort?"
I looked at my father, and he looked at me. There was anger in his eyes, but he had become even more cautious after my words.
"You… you! How dare you!"
"I never intended to harm you in any way," I said. "But that kind of attitude repels me, Father. That's why the reaction was appropriate then."
Lucius turned away to the fireplace. His shoulders were tense, but he regained his noble posture.
"That's why we're not animals — we control ourselves," he said, enunciating each word and reasserting his dominance over the situation. "And I called you here to make sure of your readiness."
He turned to me, his gaze as hard and contemptuous as possible.
"Don't you dare pull anything there. Do you hear me? No stunts! You must behave decently. At least appropriately…"
I wanted to reply sharply, but something stopped me. Perhaps his gaze, or perhaps a reluctance to make things even worse.
"I understand you," I said quietly. "But is that choice really gone? Aren't the ties with the Milfoil family important to us? It seemed to me that a betrothal to Celine Milfoil could have fixed the situation between our families."
He looked at me as if I had asked something humiliating.
"The Milfoils no longer need to be friends with us," he said, no anger in his voice, but a ton of venom. "They've already gotten along too well with that Sicilian family, the Palermos."
"Palermo?" I repeated.
"The Milfoils are planning to become related to them through the son of the head of that Mafia family," Lucius sneered contemptuously, and there was so much disgust in that sneer that you could fill buckets with it. "What do they call the heads of those bloodthirsty gangsters?"
"The heads of Cosa Nostra are called Dons," I said, and my father shot me a short, mocking glance, implying that I was no different from them.
Why does he want to provoke me?
"Don," he repeated, drawing out the word. "Never mind, though."
I felt irritation begin to boil inside me. This arrogance… now I knew where I got it from. It was funny how he spoke so contemptuously of the strongest Cosa Nostra clan in the magical world. And consequently — in the Muggle one — while he was afraid to stand up for our partners. After all, despite the amount of gold in our vaults, I highly doubted we could have held back this Palermo family. If Voldemort had been born in Italy, I'm sure his attempt to seize power would have been ended quickly.
"The Milfoils have only one daughter," I said, and my father nodded, confirming my thoughts.
"Yes. Celine Milfoil, and if not for her mother… that Mordred-cursed bitch!" he spat out the curse. "It's all that Isabelle Milfoil! With that old bastard Alan, this wouldn't have happened, but this one… Because of that fool, we've again lost the connection between our families. And I've tried very hard to establish it, Arcturus! Don't think you understand anything about this matter! If not for the last six months… although, it doesn't matter. We'll recoup all the losses from losing France when your uncle, holed up in Grimmauld Place, dies on his way to claiming the inheritance. If, of course, he's not afraid to leave Grimmauld Place."
I was silent. I wondered if I would be thinking about Amanda if the situation were reversed? In any case, Amanda was more advantageous to me in every way. Through kinship with the Rosiers, closer than now, and with my possible inheritance of two houses, in a couple of decades I could merge all three houses into one, becoming a hegemon in Britain.
But am I really so heartless that I'm ready to so easily accept that there will be no more of those conversations in the garden with Celine? That I will no longer visit the beautiful Milfoil manor, no longer look at the beautiful flowers she tended, no longer play chess with Grandfather Alan? And again, I don't know anything. Maybe my father is right… about some things.
But anyway, now I need to think about other things. And test the waters.
"I'm not going to burden my magic today by limiting my potential with any oaths like an Unbreakable Vow."
Lucius sneered contemptuously, which was going too far. It felt like before me was not my father, but a lump of discreditation of any word I said.
"Of course, how else could it be with you. That's why there were no such oaths in the betrothal contract," he replied. "But yesterday, something similar was added to it. Not burdening magic, but making it practically impossible to break your bond with young Rosier. And how didn't I think of a Blood Oath of Hand and Heart before? It's good that Lord Rosier added that clause."
"Yesterday?" I repeated, feeling a chill inside.
"Yes," Lucius looked at me, something like satisfaction flickering in his eyes. "For that, you can thank yourself. Narcissa kept saying you were spending your days in Diagon Alley. Apparently, you were thinking of trying to outsmart your future bride. Well, son? Did you achieve your goal?"
"I don't understand what you're talking about."
"That's even good. Because three, and in the future four, of the strongest families in magical Britain will be able to create the greatest alliance… now for sure… son."
The word "son" was spoken as if I were his main enemy. Everything inside me was boiling, but my face remained calm.
A Blood Oath, then.
I recalled our conversation at "The Silver Key." Now I understood that sly look… and her smile. I thought I was in control, that I was the main player at that table. And she, it turns out, was playing her own game and won. Or perhaps those who were arranging the betrothal by calculation won. She was unlikely to have known about such an ancient thing… even I hadn't heard of it; after I learn the ritual words for it, I'll have to research more information. The situation is getting out of control.
But did they really decide to create such an alliance… and why is he so sure he'll kill Sirius…