After Rhys had restricted the broom's performance, it finally became suitable for Daphne to ride.
However, this time, Daphne had learned her lesson—she handed the broom straight to her younger sister, Astoria, clearly up to no good.
Astoria: "…"
My foolish sister, do you really think I would make the same mistake as you?
This broom has already been adjusted by Rhys—it's as steady as can be!
She sat sideways on the broom, and it slowly floated about five feet off the ground, drifting forward at a pace even slower than a Muggle bicycle.
"The modifications were a complete success," Rhys nodded in satisfaction.
Though, it was a bit of a waste—this Firebolt had pretty much been squandered in Daphne's hands.
"If you ever want to unlock its full performance, it won't be difficult. I left a rune on the broom—destroy it with your wand, and all its capabilities will be restored."
Daphne nodded but had already decided she would never touch that rune.
What's wrong with flying slowly?
Perhaps feeling sorry for such an excellent broom being "wasted," Rhys offered Daphne a suggestion.
"You could lend the broom to Harry for a few rides—he'd be very grateful."
"Wouldn't that be aiding the enemy?" Astoria imagined what would happen if Harry got his hands on the Firebolt and immediately felt that the Slytherin team might as well give up. They wouldn't stand a chance against a strengthened Gryffindor team.
"It's not like those guys could beat Gryffindor anyway, so letting Harry borrow it wouldn't make much difference." Daphne had never cared about so-called 'best game of the world'. She had no respect for the Slytherin Quidditch team members.
Still, despite looking down on Malfoy and Marcus, she had no intention of lending the broom to Harry. Why would she need Potter's gratitude? Could she eat it?
To her, aside from Rhys, no one was worth making an effort to befriend.
…
While Rhys was having fun with the broom at the Greengrass estate, chaos reigned in Diagon Alley.
The roof of Gringotts, the landmark building of the alley, had collapsed halfway. A massive fire-breathing dragon, nearly seventy feet long, lay motionless on the stone steps of the bank. From the hideous wounds on its body and the way the entire staircase was stained red with its blood, it was clear that the dragon was dead.
Below the steps, rows of body bags, each about half the height of a person, were lined up in six neat rows, blocking off nearly half the street.
It was clear that Gringotts had paid a heavy price last night to take down the dragon within Diagon Alley.
Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge stood beside the dragon's corpse, his face dark as thunder. Being called in for overtime on Christmas morning before he even had a chance to open his gifts—anyone in his shoes would be in a foul mood.
"I need an explanation, Illyas."
Illyas, the goblin supervisor of Gringotts, stood beside Fudge with a forced smile. "The investigation is complete. Based on our findings, the dragon escaped due to the chains aging and deteriorating."
Fudge's breathing grew heavier.
"At least you had the sense to contain the dragon within Gringotts. Otherwise, I would have had to impose severe penalties."
Hearing this, Illyas breathed a sigh of relief—at least they had managed to pacify the Ministry. At the same time, he felt a surge of resentment toward Fudge. Couldn't he say something less callous? Couldn't he acknowledge the sheer number of lives lost? Wizards were so arrogant!
But Fudge truly didn't care about the goblins' sacrifices. In his eyes, wasn't this disaster their own doing? What did it matter to him how many goblins died because of it?
As long as they kept the dragon contained in Diagon Alley and didn't trouble the wizarding world, their losses were of no consequence to him. Oh, but they had better not all die—he still needed goblins to handle the finances.
The four culprits behind the incident had their traces meticulously erased by Illyas and the other senior members of Gringotts.
They couldn't afford to let outsiders know that a mere four wizards had broken through what was supposedly an "impenetrable" defense and looted the Lestrange family vault.
The potential fallout from such a revelation would be catastrophic. If copycats emerged, Gringotts would be in serious trouble—after all, the dark wizards out there didn't know how strong those four intruders were. All they would see was that just four people had managed to tear through Gringotts' defenses.
If last year's break-in resurfaced in public discourse, combined with this scandal, it could trigger a mass withdrawal of funds. Wizards wouldn't entrust their families' generational wealth to a bank that wasn't secure enough.
Fortunately, most of the Ministry's higher-ups had been attending the Christmas banquet at the Greengrass Manor last night. Thankfully, the battle with the dragon had left the scene in utter ruins, giving the goblins a chance to bury the truth.
They attributed the deaths of the goblin guards—who had actually been slain by the dark wizards—to the dragon. After all, they were goblins. Wizards wouldn't bother digging too deeply into their cause of death. In reality, not many goblins had perished in the effort to subdue the dragon; nearly two-thirds of the casualties had been caused by those four wizards…
The goblins were seething with hatred for those uninvited intruders, but they had no clue about their identities.
They had already begun using their connections to investigate in secret, yet no information had surfaced—Gringotts hadn't even managed to determine what exactly had been stolen, making it even harder to track down the culprits.
"Prepare a detailed incident report," Fudge instructed. "Also, draft an emergency response plan for similar incidents in the future. And put together a maintenance and upkeep schedule for Gringotts' security infrastructure. Once all of this is done, submit it to the Ministry—I need to give them an explanation. Perhaps we'll even assign a few security officers to Gringotts… but that's just a thought. I'll have to consider it carefully."
With these brief instructions, Fudge left the scene.
From Fudge's perspective, this was a win-win situation: the goblins hadn't caused any trouble for him or the Ministry. Sure, there had been a bit of chaos, but it was understandable. Most importantly, no wizards were injured, and no Muggles had been disturbed.
This was just… perfect! Nearly sixty goblins dead… but was that really a bad thing?
After he left, the head goblin of Gringotts was so furious that his face turned a deep shade of purple.
What kind of nonsense was this?! And that talk about "security officers"—he immediately understood what Fudge was really after.
The Minister was fishing for benefits.
As long as they fed this greedy pig well enough, the idea of placing security officers in Gringotts would remain just that—an idea. But if they didn't provide sufficient benefits, they could forget about having a moment's peace.
Constant security inspections would turn their lives into a living nightmare!
And if Fudge happened to have a good relationship with his successor, he might even pass this little tool of leverage along to the next Minister.
The thought made Illyas' head pound.
Damn wizards!
__________
Read 12 Chapters ahead:
Patreon: HornyFBI