The day after the Conclave had been held, Reginald Prince stood by the main fireplace as he glanced at the antique clock on the mantel to tell the time. A quarter till eight the clock read, and he'd already eaten breakfast. Soft footsteps caused him to glance up to see his sister in a red long robe tied around her bod with embroidered gold thread night slippers on her feet. Seeing his sister up at this hour he blinked in surprise as Georgine walked over to him and gave him a quick look over.
Stretching forth her long, slim fingers, Georgine fixes his collar just like his wife, Sirsa used to do. "Brother, you can't do this alone," Georgine matter-of-factly murmured.
"I'm not going to replace Sirsa for I am your sister, but I will do my best to fill some of the gaps. And you will accept my aid, brother, because the world now knows the truth and we can no longer hide in anonymity. And above all before our pride, the children must come first."
Georgine pulled back and nodded her head in satisfaction. "Good, now you're ready to go," Georgine said, before glancing up at her brother. "Is everything ready?"
"Grok Gringotts agreed to my request," Reginald answered.
Georgine snorted and crossed her arms over her chest. "And as he should. He failed dismissively in protecting a guest and Rowan almost died because of him!"
"He is vastly aware of the lapse in his security," Reginald drily said.
"Have you already had breakfast?" Georgine abruptly changed the subject.
"Good, you look as thin as a toothpick as it is."
Reginald chokes as Georgine flashes him an innocent smile. Swallowing down his retort, Reginald instead says, "I shall be back by noon, I would think. Would you like anything?"
"No, but be sure to pick up some things for the children. They'll need them if your plan is to come into effect," Georgine reminded him.
"I will," Reginald said, before glancing up at the time. "Are you going back to bed again?"
Georgine raises an eyebrow that says it all, "But of course. Was there ever any doubt?"
Seeing his sister's expression, Reginald sniffs and turns away without a word. Grabbing the floo powder from the silver pot, he tosses the sparkling power into the flames. The green flames roar high overhead as he steps forward and says, "Diagon Alley."
Zooming away, Reginald emerged in Diagon Alley and made his way on foot to the grand-snow white building in the distance. The morning air was cool against his skin as the warm sun was rising on the horizon. No doubt, it'd be another sunny day with blue skies.
At the entrance of Gringotts's the uniformed goblin guards bowed to him in recognition as the burnished bronze doors opened. Using some of their own goblin magic, the guards must have sent word. Because Reginald had only crossed the marble floor to find a young goblin politely waiting for him. The young goblin, Ragnok with pointy-eared and long fingers neatly trimmed gestured for Reginald to follow him as he said, "Please this way, Mr. Prince."
Reginald follows the goblin through a door into a hallway that leads up past offices and up the stairs to finally reach the single office in the long corridor that is guarded by a row of goblins. Ragnok stops and gestures to the door. "Grok Gringotts is waiting for you inside, sir. I cannot go any further than this."
"Most gracious manners," Reginald thanked him in Gobbledegook, before striding down the hallway. The rows of lined goblins on either side were impressive in their shining armor and spears seemed to glow with power. The spears were so sharp that they seemed to cut the very air.
Reginald politely knocked, before reaching for the doorknob, but the door swung open. A well-dressed attendant bowed and gestured for him to step inside. Reginald stepped inside and glanced at the office that he had been within several times before. The office was rather simply furnished given the high ranking of Grok Gringotts.
But that did not mean that pieces that were in the office were not valuable at all. Why even the carpet on the ground would have been considered a national treasure. No, what Reginald was referring to is that Grok Gringotts was not ostentatious with his wealth.
Taking a seat, Reginald sat down in the comfortable highchair that no doubt had been specially brought in for him. The other chair at his side was much smaller able to accommodate a goblin or a normal-sized witch or wizard. The second goblin attendant that had been standing against the wall rushed forward and asked, "Would you like some coffee or any other sort of beverage, sir?"
"Not right now," Reginald declined the offer as he turned to study the portrait of King Ragnuk, the first, the goblin King that had forged Godric Gryffindor's sword that hung on the wall. He hadn't been studying the portrait for long when the door opened behind him. Turning and rising to his feet he bowed and said, "Greetings Grok Gringotts. May your gold always prosper and shine."
"Please have a seat," gestured the old, sharp-eyed elderly goblin.
Grok Gringotts turned to his attendants and said, "Leave this will be a private meeting with no extra ears or eyes."
The attendants reluctantly leave as Grok sniffs, "They are quite annoying when they act so attached."
Reginald chuckles as the door closes behind him as Grok waves his hand making the room temporarily impregnatable from any brute force via magic or any other means. The elderly goblin takes a seat as he glances at the clock that reads a quarter until nine. "It looks like we have some time, shall we chat in the meanwhile?"
"That would be fine provided the topic was not too intrusive," Reginald said as he leaned back in his seat and crossed his long legs before him.
"I do not know if you received my letter of condolences, but I would like to in-person say that I am sorry for your loss," Grok quietly said.
"Thank you, but I'd rather not dwell on the tragic subject for the moment," Reginald said with a steely glint in his eyes.
"That is perfectly understandable," Grok replied at seeing the glint in the old Prince's eyes. It would be better not to antagonize the older wizard.
Leaning back into his own chair, Grok rests his hands over his potbelly and says, "I must say, I was surprised by the revelation as much as anyone else, Prince. The Prince's have certainly been keeping a secret all these years, why even that Slytherin heirloom dagger is goblin forged."
"We Prince's are rather good at keeping secrets," Reginald flashed a cold grin. "It is in our nature. And as for the dagger, it was given in payment to Salazar Slytherin for services rendered. It was then passed to us for services rendered as well.
However, if the goblins would like the dagger back, I would have no problem in returning the blade, once we calculated the service's rendered by both of my ancestors and the interest acc.u.mulated over a period of a thousand years. Though I'm not sure that all the gold in Gringotts would be able to afford such a sizeable amount."
Grok blanches at the mere thought and says, "No, no. It is a family heirloom, please do not think we goblins are that greedy."
Reginald glanced at the portrait of Ragnuk on the wall. "Mm, but that is what started the entire war between wizards and goblins," Reginald said causing Grok to pale even further. "Oh, yes, our ancestors were quite thorough in their information gathering.
Why, we even recorded the lie that took place when Ragnuk, the First was commissioned by Godric Gryffindor to forge the legendary blade. And we even know that Ragnuk became so infatuated with the acclaimed work that he sent a group of goblins to retrieve the blade. Naturally, Godric Gryffindor repelled the intruders and was even kind off not to slay them merely having the goblins return under an enchantment. The enchanted goblins returned with the message that if Ragnuk tried that again that Godric would kill himself and those that followed."
Reginald deliberately paused a wolfish smile appeared on his face. "Though interestingly enough there was a rather ill found rumor propagated at that time that Godric Gryffindor had stolen the blade from Ragnuk. The power of rumors is most interesting don't you think, Gringotts? I myself wonder what were to happen if the truth of the past would ever come out to affect the present."
Grok licked his dry lips as he rasped, "That is not true. That is an utter lie concocted by wizards to oppress goblin kind!"
"Ah, but we the Prince's were Percussor's at that time," Reginald smirked. "We have no reason to lie as we always prided ourselves on the truth, no matter the cost."
Grok is unable to deny that as he considers the ramifications of the revelation. It would not only rock the goblin world but that of the wizarding world as well. It might ignite decades-long feuds and destroy the peace that they had achieved for the last hundreds of years.
"The past should stay in the past," Grok croaked as Reginald merely nodded his head in agreement.
"Though-," Reginald paused causing Grok to flinch. "-I have no claim, my grandchildren would, should the sword ever reappear. As it turns out their muggle father is actually a squib descended from the lines of Helga Hufflepuff and Godric Gryffindor. And I must admit I was rather surprised, but most pleased to find out that they carry the blood of three out of the four founders' lines."
"Naturally," Grok rasped. "And I assume that you've been able to trace their squib father's lineage all the way back to the founders?"
"The Prince family over the centuries have kept the habit of keeping an impressive record on everyone," Reginald said with a piercing gleam in his eye. One can take the Percussor's out of the killing world, but one can't take the Percussor out of the Prince's.
"Yes, of course," Grok faintly said, wondering exactly how much the Prince's knew or had on the goblins. A shiver coursed down his back as Grok realized that even if it was only a tenth of everything, it would be enough for the goblins to be destroyed by the wizarding world.