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Gringott’s Bank


“Molly’s going to murder me!” Bilius muttered for about the hundredth time between frantic shouts of the boys’ names. “BILL! … CHARLIE! … Oh Molly’s going to skin me alive... she’ll use every dark hex in the history of magic. BILL!”

Chriselda ran alongside Bilius. “Bill! Charlie! … She’ll understand, Bilius, she’s a mother, surely they’ve gotten away from her a time or two.”

Bilius shook his head, “Oh not from Molly, no. Molly’s got eyes in every direction. That woman’s the most fiercely protective creature -- Swear, she could kill Voldemort himself with just the squint of her eye if he threatened her kids. Bloody hell. I’m going to end up dust. Dust, Chriss. She’ll pulverize me - even if they’re alright, she’ll do it.” He waved a lighted wand down an alley as Chriselda looked inside a row of oversized cauldrons lining the street.

“S’cuse me, have you seen -- two little boys? ‘Bout this high?” Bilius held out his palm around Bill’s height, “Carrying a stuffed dragon, one of ‘em was, and the other had on a red striped shirt. Fire-ball red hair. Red as could be. And absolute loads of freckles.”

Bilius asked every person he passed - every last one - which is how he ended up asking none other than Lucius Malfoy.

“Two boys, have you seen --” he stopped mid-sentence as he realized who he was speaking to, and saw the amused smiled twitch across Lucius Malfoy’s lips as he stared at Bilius with cold black eyes.

Lucius’s voice was hard. “Missing… something… are we?”

Bilius felt sick just facing Lucius Malfoy like this. In the back of his mind he could hear the rustling leaves, the breaking branches of running through the woods… he could hear Derek Bell’s breath disappearing into darkness ahead of him… Flashback, he told himself, Just a flashback. Snap out of it. Don’t let him get to you.

“Two little boys, you were saying?” Lucius continued. He could see how he was getting to Bilius, could see that his mere presence was upsetting him. Bilius’s cheeks were burning red like his hair and his eyes were wobbling in and out of focus… “Would be a shame if something were to happen to them.”

Chriselda Blythe came up, pushed her way between Bilius and Lucius and snarled, “Where are they you toad?”

Lucius stepped back, smirking, hands raised, “Goodness! ...Come not between a dragon and his wrath…” he murmured, eyeing Chriselda for an over-long moment, and finally he said, “Good luck with finding the little ones, Weasle-y.”

Chriselda all but literally hissed as he walked away.

Behind her, Bilius murmured, “Oh gods.”

“What?” she turned to look at him, her wand still raised after Lucius Malfoy’s back as he slipped between the people in the crowd.

“Dragon,” whispered Bilius. “The dragon. The bloody dragon.” And he turned and started back down the street the opposite direction about as fast as anyone has ever run before, his lungs burning as he shoved violently between people, not even bothering with an excuse me or a pardon me or even a coming through. He just went. And behind him came Chriselda, shoving through just as rudely, until she caught up, panting, where Bilius Weasley had come to a stop outside of Gringott’s Bank, staring up at the sheer white face of the building.

Chriselda was breathing hard, she stared up at the bank’s tall windows, then looked at Bilius. “You don’t - you don’t think --?” she panted.

“Bill asked me this morning what was in there and I - gods I’m such an idiot - I told him about the dragon. And Charlie’s just mad about dragons!”

“But I mean, surely the goblins would’ve caught them if they came here! With all the security on this place?” Chriselda trotted after Bilius as he started up the tall marble steps of the Bank. “I mean, a millennia of criminals have attempted heists against Gringott’s Bank and every one that’s ever tried it has been caught in one way or another... - certainly two children couldn’t possibly…?”

Bilius murmured, “You don’t understand how much Charlie loves dragons… and how much Bill loves Charlie.”




“Alright, now ‘member, this is like the time we snuck down and got the cookies mum made after mum and dad went to bed, okay? When we had to be real quiet and not make loads of noise or nothin’,” Bill said. He had Charlie by the elbow tight.

“Dragon!” Charlie said.

“Shhh, quiet, Charlie. If you wanna see the dragon, you gotta be quiet.”

Charlie paused a second, then lowered his voice to a whisper like Bill had done. “Dragon!” he whispered.

Bill had waited barely a moment after Bilius had left Florean Fortescue’s before he’d slid from the chair and grabbed Charlie’s Chinese Firebolt from his brother’s hands and shaken it to tempt Charlie away from the table and the melted ice cream remains. He’d brought his brother along through the crowds, ducking out of the way of much taller people, clutching the strap of Charlie’s tiny overalls and tugging him along behind him like he was a pet brother. They had stood before Gringott’s for a few moments while Bill decided how best to get inside, and finally they’d just scrambled in behind a random witch who Bill imagined the goblins would think was their mum if they just stayed cool about it. Once inside, he’d simply waited until none of the goblins were looking at them and then he’d dragged Charlie over to duck behind one of their tall desks to watch the goings on.

“Dragon,” Charlie whispered again.

“I know,” Bill whispered back, “We’re going to see the dragon, very soon. I just have to figure out how to get to the vaults!” He watched, holding his brother’s hand.

From what Bill could see, the process was simple. A witch or wizard would come inside, greet a goblin that stood near to the door, and that goblin would assign them to one of the working goblins at their desks. The witch or wizard would then go and talk to the goblin they’d been assigned and tell them their purpose at the bank and the goblin would consider this, fill out some paperwork, and send the witch or wizard off with yet another goblin, all of whom wore narrow ties and tweed suits. Bill could see these goblins would wave with long, twisted fingers for the witch or wizard to follow them and they’d go on through a door and disappear. What was beyond he door was a mystery, but Bill was betting that door was the door to where the dragon was.

“C’mon,” he whispered.

They scurried quietly past the goblins at their desks, inspecting gems with their loops or counting stacks of gold and silver coins. Charlie dropped his Chinese Firebolt and had to scurry back to pick it up, then raced after Bill again on his thick legs and Bill grabbed Charlie’s wrist, not wanting to get separated for Uncle Bilius had told him to watch Charlie. They came up behind the same woman they’d followed into the Bank in the first place and followed her and her goblin through the door into a dark, cave-like room - a platform, really, and along the edge there were railway tracks and little rail cars and Bill pulled Charlie quickly into the shadow of a large stalagmite that rose up from the cave of the floor.

They watched as the goblin and the witch climbed into one of the little cars and the goblin situated his lantern and cleared his throat and said, “Valunt 214 please!” And they sped off through trembling low torch light.

When they were gone, Bill turned to Charlie. “C’mon Charlie! We’re gonna go see the dragon now!” and he pulled Charlie along, over the platform to the little cars.

Charlie dropped his Chinese Firebolt again - the poor thing hit the platform floor and though Charlie tried to turn back for it, Bill had his wrist and he couldn’t. “Dragon!” Charlie cried, stretching his fingers for it, but Bill was loading him into the car.

“Yes, the dragon!” Bill said, “We’re nearly there now!”

And Bill jumped into the cart behind Charlie and said, “To the dragon!” and the cart sped off.

“DRAGON! DRAGON!” Charlie started sobbing, and it was now that Bill realised why and he felt horrid for having left the Chinese Firebolt behind and he hugged his brother, saying many apologies as Charlie cried and cried and cried and they sped through a pitch dark cave, lit only minimally by flickering torches. The distraction of the lost toy was, in a way, a good thing, though, for it kept Charlie from being afraid of the jerks and turns that the cart was taking with the two small boys clustered in the very bottom, hugging.

“I’m so sorry, Charlie,” Bill begged.

“Dragon!” sobbed Charlie, “Dragon!”

“I didn’t mean to lose him. We’ll find a way to get him back, surely a goblin will find him and give him back before we leave!”

“Deagon!” Charlie was inconsolable.

“We’re gonna see a real dragon, though! In just a few more minutes!” Bill reminded him. “A real one, Charlie!”

Charlie hiccupped.

The cart was spiraling ever downward… down and down and down and Bill realized that Uncle Bilius had not been exaggerating about it being quite a ways down to the dragon. He sat patting Charlie’s hair as they went, faster than Bill had ever gone in a vehicle of any sort before, and waiting for the first sight of the magical creature. It seemed like eons before the cart had come to a stop, the wheels creaking as the rolling slowed and finally jerked to a halt. He and Charlie sat in the bottom of the cart for several moments, half expecting it to go again, and finally, Bill stuck his head out over the edge to find they’d reached the shadowy bottom of the cave.

“We’re here,” he whispered to Charlie.

Charlie hiccupped again.

“C’mon, let’s find the dragon!” Bill suggested and he climbed out of the cart then stood on his tippy toes to haul Charlie out, too.

There was a goblin-made stream that broke through the ground surface of the bottom of the cave, and great metal chains hung about all around on the walls, and large poking devices leaned against a wall where tiny elements of goblin armor hung as well. Breast plates and silver swords and shields and the like. Bill pulled Charlie over to a small bridge that spanned the stream and they crossed over to the other side and walked along… Looking up, Bill could see the height of the cave stretched on and on and on and on and on… all the way they’d just come down - taller than any building he’d ever seen in London, stretching up for what seemed like eternity to a tiny speck of sunlight that was so far away that no natural rays could reach this place. Fire in the torches trembled.

He was just starting to wonder if Uncle Bilius was wrong, if the mere rumor of dragon-fire security was enough to scare off thieves, or else if Uncle Bilius had been making up the existence of the beast altogether, when there was a shuffling sound in the dark ahead of them. A very, very large shuffling sound.

Charlie tugged at Bill’s grasp.

For out of the shadows had moved a very large form… smoke drifting in tendrils from nostrils as wide as Charlie was tall, and long teeth that hung over grey-white lips… thick scales covered the triangular snout, and the great, wide head curved around a particularly large stalagmite, beady eyes squinting through the dark…

“Dragon!” Charlie called… and with an almighty wrench of his hand - catching Bill off guard in his surprise at how huge the dragon was - Charlie freed himself from his brother’s grasp and, without an ounce of hesitation, he ran across the cave floor to the dragon… and slamming right into the snout of it, arms outstretched in a hug, and clung onto the scales, grinning as he did his very, very best to hug the creature whose molars were taller than the little Weasley.

The dragon knocked Charlie over so that he landed on his bum on the floor of the cave and lifted her head up, twisting her neck so that she could angle her head to bring her gigantic eyeball directly over Charlie and Bill, who had rushed forward to pull Charlie to his feet. The dragon stared at them for a long moment, then let out a long, low groaning cry of a sound that echoed off the walls of the caves of Gringott’s, shaking dust and stones from the walls as the dragon shuffled forward from behind the stalagmite and great clawed feet came into view and suddenly there was a loud shuffling from behind and Bill turned to see the dragon’s gigantic, long tail come sweeping ‘round to surround them in a great curving wall of white dragon scale and the dragon lowered its head so that the long, jagged chin rested on the end of the tail.

Bill looked around, his heart racing.

“You taste good with ketchup to a dragon,” Uncle Bilius’s words echoed in his head.

Maybe, Bill thought, this hadn’t been such a grand idea after all.

But Charlie grinned and pulled away again, running over to the dragon’s wide cheek just below it’s eye and hugged the scaley creature once again, his fingers clinging to the tiny palm-sized scales that surrounded the dragon’s lips and eye and pressing his fat, sticky-with-mint-ice-cream cheek against the dragon’s cheek. “Dragon,” he said lovingly.

Bill shivered...

“Puff the magic dragon lived by the sea,” sang Charlie in a trembling toddler voice, mispronouncing half the words, “And frolicked in the autumn mist of a land called Honnah Lee!”

And the dragon’s nostrils smoked…




Far above, a frantic Bilius Weasley had stormed into the bank. The reception goblin stopped him and Chriselda Blythe at the door. “My nephews!” Bilius was trying to explain, his words hurried, his panic clear, “They’re missing, they’re here, they’re trying to see the dragon… about this high… red hair… please, they’re trying to see the dragon!”

“No child could ever get past the goblins of Gringotts!” said the Bank master, an especially distinguished goblin who had seen the reception goblin struggling with Bilius Weasley at the door and come over to try to help appease the panicked young wizard and witch at the door. “Don’t be absurd!”

But even as he said it a worried looking tweed-suit clad goblin hobbled over carrying the stuffed Chinese Firebolt he’d found on the platform by the little carts and Bilius let out a strangled cry. “CHARLIE!”