The Amulet

The lobby inside Gringotts was full of witches and wizards teetering nervously, eyeing the entrance to the bank wearily. The sight didn’t bode well for Severus. It meant that the Dark Lord and his inner circle were out, and he needed to hurry up before he received a summons. He raced to the front of the line, a long parcel tucked under an arm and leaned over the counter to whisper to the goblin teller.

“Hey!”

Severus ignored the wizard, “I need to speak to a goblin in private about a sword.”

“A sword?” The look on the creature’s face looked both disgusted and affronted.

Did word not get around about this blasted sword and his deal. He did make it with the intention of giving it to the Goblins of Gringotts. Should he ask for the goblin who assisted him prior?

“Mr Severus Snape, back so soon?”

Severus looked up to see another Goblin leap from behind a nearby seat and abandon his customer. Was this the Goblin he met prior? He was a bit embarrassed to admit that they all looked very similar to each other. It was even hard to discern which was female or male. He scrutinized the slanted grey eyes, and there was an inkling of familiarity at the colour. He moved behind the teller to meet the Goblin.

“I have it.”

“Already?”

Severus pulled out the hilt, and the precious stones sparkled when exposed to the light. The handle still stuck to his palm as he tried to thread the cardboard flap through the spacing between the hilt and his skin to close the box. The ex-Deatheater sighed, already aggravated with the sword. He looked around when an unnatural silence hung over him. All the tellers that could see him were staggered and leaning back in their seats to see the sword.

“Very well then. Follow me.” The goblin stepped before a door to what appeared to be a safe and placed his hand on it to allow passage.

“Oy! I was here first!” Severus looked behind him to see the abandoned customer seething while he was escorted to the next teller. The spy smirked and followed the goblin through the darkened hall.

They walked in the dark for several minutes, passing open doorways of lit rooms. Eventually, they turned a corner, took the first door on the right, and were met with a handful of other goblins hovering over a table speaking their glutaral language. When the ex-Deatheater stepped into the room, they stopped, all eyes on him as if he were intruding.

He glared back. He was here for a reason, you know!

His companion spoke to them in the goblin language, and their stature changed to one of interest and openness. Severus’s hand tingled again, and he felt the sword shift high towards the parcel’s opening, he shook his hand in agitation and the box swayed with it.

A well-decorated goblin stepped forward and placed his hand on the sides of the parcel.

“Severus Snape,” it said. He wasn’t sure why it said his name, but he felt he needed to respond somehow, and he nodded.

The goblin apparently took that as a cue and yanked the long box revealing the sword inside. The goblins collectively gasped.

“Yes, yes, now get it off!”

The goblin closest to him peered at him curiously before reaching for the sword's hilt. The blade went willingly, and Severus sighed in relief. The goblins surrounded the sword obscuring it from his vision, and Severus’s hand continued to tingle. He scratched his palm, only to feel the sword's weight fall onto his palm once again. He exhaled in annoyance and presented the sword again to the group of goblins. They didn’t take it; instead, they spoke amongst each other, summoning an aged parchment with a puff of magic to hover as they read it. His wrist was growing tired from the sword's weight, and he let it hang by his side instead.

“Mr Severus Snape?” He was familiar with this goblin; this must be the one who made a deal with him and escorted him here. What was his name again?”

“I apologize. I’m afraid my memory has failed me. What is your name again?”

“Heelgrip” sounded surprised by the question, probably because it’s not very often that wizards talk to them like equals.

“Yes, Heelgrip. Is there any way we can hurry this along? I don’t know how much time I have left, and I would like us to get to my side of the deal. I’m trying to save a life, you know.” He started politely, but his annoyance shone through towards the end. Bugger!

The goblin Heelgrip hesitated before plucking the parchment that hung midair to reveal it to Severus. The top read Goaldgotts Hoard and Wizarding Bank Vault 117, 123, & 146, Helena Ravenclaw.

“What’s this?” Severus passed the parchment back in disbelief.

“This was the last living relative of Godric Gryffindor; upon his death, his vaults were passed down to his only daughter.

Severus was stunned. What? Gryffindor and Ravenclaw? What was he overreacting for? That was old news.

“Why are you showing me this?” Severus asked, purposely ignoring the number of galleons and the vast amount of properties listed.

“To put it simply, the sword is enchanted to stay with a wizard wielder and any other wizarding wielder that calls upon it. When the line died abruptly, it defaulted to only presenting itself to those it finds worthy.”

“Am I to believe the sword finds me worthy?” That was just not possible. He wasn’t a Gryffindor!

Heelgrip was serious in his assessment. “You could be, or the magic I transferred to you to identify it drew it to you.”

Severus paled, “Do you mean to tell me I’m stuck with this thing?”

The goblins seemed confused by his reaction but didn’t try to explain why; instead, they brought the parchment to his attention again. “We propose to sign you as the heir of Gryffindor instead.”

Severus nearly fainted. Heir to Gryffindor? He would be named the worst Slytherin on the planet…or the worst Gryffindor…

“What would be the purpose of doing this?” Severus asked.

“To overrule the enchantments by presenting an heir before another wizard wielder calls upon it,” said another goblin stepping forward.

“Can you do that?”

Heelgrip summoned a red feathered bloodquill and handed it to him, pointing to the still hovering parchment. “We wouldn’t offer it if we weren’t capable, Mr Severus Snape.” The goblin traced the parchment to the very bottom, where an x and a blank line glowed faintly. “The goblins have full control over the banks.”

Severus hovered the quill over the dotted line and, to stall for time, asked about the bank's name on top.

“Gringotts wasn’t founded until 1474,” Heelgrip said, sounding almost bored. “Before Gringotts was Goaldgotts and before that Hoardgotts, and so on. After every Goblin War, the Banks are the first to be targeted, so when we restart, we rename the bank to start fresh. The contract and the vaults mostly stay the same.”

“After all these years, the vaults stayed untouched?” Severus looked incredulous.

Heelgrip looked amused. “It’s called a Goblin Hoard for a reason, Mr Severus Snape.”

Severus’s ear tinged pink in embarrassment. He felt like a dimwitted child. He leaned forward to sign the dotted line under Helena Ravenclaw’s name, ignoring the sting of pain on his hand as his name flashed blood red on the parchment. He corrected his posture and went to hand the sword to Heelgrip, who once again looked amused. It was an odd sight to see the creature’s pointy teeth showing.

“Eager to get rid of it, I see.”

Severus frowned, “You have no idea.”

“As relieved as I am to hear that, I must admit that we have a few things we must do before we can accept the sword from you.”

“Can we do it quickly?” Severus had no idea how much time he had, but his gut told him he didn’t have much time. To do what, he had no idea, but one thing he was sure of, he was scarce on time.

Heelgrip walked to the entryway and waved Severus out into the dark halls. Severus gripped the sword, uncertain that if he let it go, another witch or wizard would call upon it, and the blade would heed its call. The goblin took a few steps forward and opened a door on the right, and quiet halls were filled with the angry clatter of racing carts. Severus followed Heelgrip to the platform, which had docked a pointed sledge in rails.

“You wanted fast, Mr Severus Snape, and you’ll get fast.” Heelgrip stepped into the sledge and sat behind a small wheel. “The vault is very deep. You would be looking to arrive in about 20 minutes in a wizarding cart, whereas in a goblin train, we should arrive in several seconds.”

Severus gulped. That was fast. He felt queasy in the other carts, but he supposed that with this train, he wouldn’t have time to be sick. He stepped and crammed himself into the only available seat that could fit him behind the goblin. The goblin pulled a lever and quickly rotated the small wheel clockwise, and the train burst into magical flame and sped away, causing Severus’s head to slam back on the head of the seat, the strain he felt on his neck was starting to become uncomfortable until they arrived. His vision swirled back into place, and his brain felt jarred and confused. The goblin showed no such symptoms and hopped out, steadily walking to the entrance and waving the contract at the door.

“Come, Wizard. These locks require magical signatures to open initially, based on the old contracts.”

Severus groaned. He wasn’t ready to stand up without hobbling, but he somehow did and slapped his palm on the door and christened the platform with his vomit. The goblin banished it with a wave of his hand and pushed the vault door open. Severus blearily saw a generous amount of gold within the vault, but it was nothing compared to the rows of bookcases littered with large tomes. The vault was so much bigger than the Prince Vault.

“Ravenclaws Vault, I presume?”

The goblin bowed his head in a lazy nod. Severus closed the vault door and tried to hand Heelgrip the sword.

The goblin shook his head, “All three vaults have to be activated, just to be safe.”

Dread began to pull in Severus's gut. He eyed the makeshift train warily.

“Let's not dally then.” He sat on the seat again, anticipating the lurch when the goblin started it up again.

Less than a second later, they arrived at the next vault, and Severus saw stars. The goblin waved the signed parchment at the door, and Severus had to place his hand to open the vault; a few mounds of gold lay behind the door, but Severus was uninterested. He was ready to get to the last vault before he hurled. When they reached the final vault, Severus witnessed Heelgrip shake a fist at the vault door before spitting at it, there was even evidence on the metal of years of dried spittle on the door and the platform that held it. This must be Godric Gryffindor’s vault.

He sighed, “Could you at least have everyone stop cursing and spitting on the door now that I’m going to be the one owning it.”

Heelgrip seemed to consider it, then waved the mess clean with his goblin magic. “We’ll try.”

Severus ignored the creature and instead tried to ensure the surface of the metal of the vault door was clean before he placed his hand on it. The vault inside was massive; he couldn’t see the ceiling it was so high. There were statues, chests of jewellery and gold, books littered haphazardly, water… why was there water here?

“Wha-?”

“This is Godric Gryffindor’s vault that held the spoils of battles he won,” Heelgrip said matter-of-factly.

“Oh..”

He turned to face Heelgrip. “Are you sure this is all mine?”

“As long as you still want it. If not, then it will pass to your heir.” Heelgrip held out a hand, and Severus feebly gave the sword to the Goblin.

“The ritual?”

The goblin opened his mouth to speak, but Severus hissed in pain before he could hear him, the dark mark painfully burning on his forearm.