Hogwarts Raven (Harry Potter) Chapter 440 170 Fate, Already Tilting Toward the Abyss Part

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More than half an hour later, Ian, under the mustached goblin's guidance, returned from the underground vault to the surface. The Granger family had long since completed all their business and were now waiting for Ian at Gringotts' front entrance, shielding themselves from the scorching sun.

To the goblins of Gringotts, when a family cos to deposit money, they treat the custor as a god. But the mont the money is deposited, they instantly beco atheists.

'Continued warm service?' Not a chance.

Even the benches in the lobby would be taken away by the goblins the mont you're done. That's one of the many reasons why wizards often complain about the goblin race.

Even the wolves of Wall Street would be considered small fry compared to them.

When it cos to truly being opportunistic, you have to look at the goblins of Gringotts.

"Ian, the goblin who took us to the vault, said you went to a special area close to the Earth's core. Does your vault, as a VIP client, look any different from the ordinary ones?" The mont Hermione saw Ian, she launched straight into her barrage of "one hundred thousand whys."

She was like a starving kitten, greedily trying to absorb every bit of magical knowledge she could.

Before Ian could even reply, the mustachioed goblin took the lead in correcting Hermione's wording: "The greater-than-great Mr. Prince wouldn't be caught dead using one of our so-called 'VIP' vaults. His vault is one-of-a-kind, a super chamber reserved only for Gringotts' sole partner shareholder!"

After coming out of the underground vault, the mustached goblin's attitude toward Ian had subtly changed, perhaps because, through the vault, it had finally confird Ian's identity.

Of course, even though the goblin's attitude had shifted a little, the core of its character remained untouched. After a slight pause, it added a clarification regarding Ian's identity:

"Of course, the greater-than-great Mr. Prince does not own Gringotts' assets… But aside from that, he's the most honorable figure in our entire institution!"

Its tone was firm and emotional, but all it did was make Ian feel awkward.

Where's the "honor" in this? Why does this whole thing reek of a glorified spiritual shareholder?

"Let's just leave already."

Ian had no interest in enduring any more half-hearted flattery. He quickly pulled the Granger family along and made their way out of Gringotts' grand doors.

And behind them, the mustached goblin remained deeply bowed, not straightening up until Ian and the Grangers had disappeared down the street. Only then did it slowly raise its back and wipe the sweat from its forehead.

The branding mark on its forehead had begun to dim, but the goblin's heart remained unsettled.

"It's him. It must be him. Only he could open that vault…"

"The third uprising we goblins have been planning for so long… looks like it'll have to be shelved again. Who knows for how many more years."

Its soft muttering held both disappointnt and a sense of relief. There was also a deep, buried fear hidden in its words, revealing information that could shake the wizarding world like a bombshell.

But, no one, not even Ian, knew what the mustached goblin had whispered to itself.

By the ti it turned around and returned to Gringotts to resu its duties, Ian had already gone far.

"Want so ice cream? I can treat you to so~" Mrs. Granger's eyes lit up as they passed a nearby ice cream shop, clearly captivated by the unique appearance of the magical treats. Ian suspected this thirty-sothing young mother was just craving so herself, and had asked him and Hermione as an excuse.

"Mom! I want two!"

Hermione had no intention of being polite with her mother. In the sweltering heat, ice cream sounded perfect. Her attention was already locked onto those moving scoops of ice cream on display.

Her little brain was likely already wondering what kind of enchantnts were embedded in each flavor.

"I'll just have one… then it will be alright."

Ian glanced at the shop, noting how few custors there were. That made him suspect the place might not taste great, after all, how could an ice cream shop have only two or three custors on such a hot day?

"Alright, wait here for ." Mrs. Granger pulled out her wallet and headed toward the shop, while Ian, Hermione, and Mr. Granger stood on the street, observing the surrounding stores.

On both sides of the street, magical shopfronts sparkled with alluring lights, capturing the attention of every passerby. To their left, the "Potion Curiosities Boutique" had bottles of vividly colored potions slowly rotating on display shelves…

So of the potions glowed with a faint blue light, as if hiding secrets from the deep sea; others radiated a warm golden hue, like a field of wheat under the setting sun. Each bottle was labeled with nas that sparked endless imagination.

"Is there really such a thing as a dream-weaving potion?" Mr. Granger looked sowhat tempted. His expression was rather amusing, Ian suspected he was hoping to have a romantic rendezvous with his first love or so old fla in a dream.

"It's all just hype. Nothing special, and the price is outrageous." Ian's response imdiately quashed Mr. Granger's interest. He felt he had just saved Miss Hermione Granger's family happiness.

Ti ticked by.

About ten minutes later, Mrs. Granger was still at the shop's counter and seed to be facing so difficulty. Ian quickly walked over to offer help.

However,

"Question: In what era was the world's first automatic quill invented?"

The tall, lanky owner of the ice cream shop was unexpectedly posing a trivia question to Mrs. Granger, a Muggle woman. It was such an obscure question that even Ian didn't know the answer.

"I don't see what that has to do with buying ice cream, sir," Ian replied, frowning at the shopkeeper in confusion and shaking his head.

"Of course it matters. Answering correctly gets you a two-knut discount coupon and a collectible sticker featuring a 3D image of Albus Dumbledore."

The owner even took out the prize to show off, attempting to dazzle Ian and Mrs. Granger.

"..."

Ian was left speechless.

"Of course, if you can na so of the most iconic flying carpet designs from the 1940s, I can still give you the two-knut discount voucher~" The shopkeeper shook the utterly unattractive coupon enthusiastically.

"No thanks. We'll just pay full price. No extra services needed." Ian rejected the nonsense flatly, and Mrs. Granger imdiately echoed him: "Yes, we don't want the discount."

She had likely just been too polite to reject the shopkeeper in an unfamiliar environnt, assuming this was a normal part of purchasing cold treats in the wizarding world.

"Well then, that's your loss." The shopkeeper shrugged, set the coupon aside, and then pulled out a thick contract, handing it to Mrs. Granger under the utterly baffled gaze of Ian.

"Just like we discussed, you ordered the raspberry sundae without seed removal.

So you'll need to sign a waiver stating that if you get a stomachache from a seed, the shop won't be held responsible."

This shopkeeper's behavior was becoming more and more outrageous by the second.

Ian was beginning to understand why no one was buying from here.

(To Be Continued…)