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BFH# Chapter 38: A Special Letter
🕑 Added 2025-01-02 00:19:04 +0000 UTCIn the cozy ambiance of the Three Broomsticks pub, the yellow candle flames flickered gently on the tables, casting a warm glow over the wooden furniture, nearby greenery, and a group of professors.
Among them, Rosmerta and Hagrid sat wide-eyed, staring at Victor across the round table. Victor maintained his usual calm demeanor, as if guiding goblins was an entirely ordinary and effortless matter.
Professor Flitwick’s sharp voice was the first to break the silence, his eyes wide in astonishment:
“Are you saying they actively asked for your guidance? That’s... normal?!”
“No, no, that’s not the goblins I know,” Flitwick continued incredulously. “Perhaps you’re unaware, but goblins in England have been around for over a thousand years. They’re master craftsmen of alchemical artifacts—Godric Gryffindor’s sword was forged by them, for instance. But they hold the belief that any wealth they create should remain theirs forever, not belong to any purchaser. This philosophy is the root of their greatest conflict with wizards.”
“Later, the implementation of the Magical Species Regulation Act and its wand ban intensified these tensions. Goblins felt increasingly marginalized, leading to hostilities that sparked several goblin rebellions.”
“So now you see?” Flitwick shook his head with a sigh. “The goblins I know don’t have a particularly good opinion of wizards. Becoming a consultant at Gringotts is no small feat.”
His words trailed off with another sigh, as though recalling some unpleasant memories.
Victor glanced at Flitwick’s small stature and immediately surmised the source of these reflections. Flitwick’s goblin ancestry was evident in his appearance, and as a wizard, he likely faced disdain from both sides.
“I didn’t expect goblins to have such personalities,” Victor remarked, slightly surprised. “I thought they’d be no different from... house-elves.”
“What kind of misunderstanding do you have about goblins?” Hagrid interjected with a chuckle. “I can’t imagine anything more dissimilar!”
“Sounds like they treat you exceptionally well,” Professor Sprout added.
“You should teach us your approach,” Flitwick suggested earnestly. “It would certainly benefit the students—many sixth and seventh-years hope to work at Gringotts.”
“Of course,” Victor replied after taking a sip of butterbeer. “But there’s nothing particularly special about it. The key is to bring goblins money—better yet, teach them how to make more.”
“Whoever brings them wealth will always be their friend.”
At this, Victor couldn’t help recalling various goblin-related tales from his side of the world. Compared to the rebellious goblins of the wizarding world, those in fairy tales were laughably incompetent—either tricked into losing their labor or defeated outright by humans.
Take Rumpelstiltskin, for example. He diligently spun straw into gold overnight for a girl, only to be denied his promised reward.
He sighed. “...But English goblins are certainly skilled in negotiation.”
“No argument there,” the professors nodded in agreement. While they didn’t entirely grasp Victor’s point, they all knew one thing: goblins loved money.
Rosmerta smiled warmly and added, “You’re absolutely right, Professor Victor.”
“And since they respect your divination skills, it seems Hogwarts has gained a truly talented Divination professor. I have no doubt the O.W.L.s results for Divination this year will be outstanding.”
As she finished, Rosmerta suddenly remembered something. With a slight gasp, she slapped her forehead.
“Oh! I nearly forgot! If you’re the Gringotts consultant I think you are, I have a letter for you. A barn owl delivered it earlier—seemed to have lost its sense of direction and ended up in the kitchen.”
Reaching into her apron pocket, she produced a parchment envelope and handed it to Victor.
The envelope was old-fashioned, sealed with a red wax stamp bearing the emblem of a roaring dragon—the Gringotts insignia.
The recipient’s name read: To Mr. Vandeboom, Gringotts Consultant.
Victor raised an eyebrow and opened the letter.
The contents read:
Dear Mr. Vandeboom,
Regarding the theft on July 31st, the internal investigation team at Gringotts has made preliminary findings. Following your earlier suggestion, we’ve upgraded the security measures for the main entrance and vaults. During this process, however, we uncovered some traces left by the intruder.
It appears the intruder interacted with items from other vaults. Magical investigation indicates the culprit’s trail leads near Hogwarts.
Given the severe blow this incident has dealt to Gringotts’ reputation, we urgently request your continued investigation within the school grounds and are prepared to offer any “compensation” necessary.
Note: The stolen vault originally housed the Philosopher’s Stone, deposited by Headmaster Albus Dumbledore.
Sincerely,
Brickin,
Manager, Diagon Alley Branch, Gringotts
Victor’s eyes narrowed slightly.
The ransacked vault belonged to Dumbledore? And the suspect might now be near Hogwarts?
This was big news.
But Victor wasn’t entirely surprised—any dark wizard capable of breaching Gringotts’ defenses would likely match the power level of someone like Dumbledore.
He scanned the letter again, his gaze lingering on one intricately written word: Philosopher’s Stone.
“Is it something important?” Hagrid asked curiously, noticing Victor’s increasingly pensive expression.
“...Not particularly.”
Victor folded the letter and slipped it into his pocket. Without divulging the letter’s contents, he said vaguely, “Gringotts is just asking me to investigate something.”
By dusk, any lingering awkwardness among the professors had dissipated entirely.
Victor had gained some insight into their personalities: Professor Sprout was remarkably patient, even when students accidentally uprooted several mandrakes; Professor Flitwick was thrilled about the Boy Who Lived attending Hogwarts, eager to unravel the secret of his survival; and Hagrid was, unsurprisingly, obsessed with magical creatures.
Hagrid left the deepest impression.
After asking briefly about Victor’s rapport with goblins, he immediately became fixated on the “fairies” Victor had casually mentioned earlier, convinced they were magical beings unique to the Far East.
Victor spent a considerable amount of time deflecting Hagrid’s fervent questions before they finally returned to the castle.
During this time, Victor noticed a small but curious detail:
Professor Quirrell hadn’t joined their conversation. Instead, he had slipped away somewhere on his own, returning only when it was time to leave. He emerged from a nearby alley, looking thoroughly exhausted.
