Chapter 256: Flight & Gringotts
If you want to read ahead, you can check out my Patreón @
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The link is also in the synopsis.
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A gentle breeze blew in a moorland with rolling hills with low-growing vegetation with clouds flying low in the sky above, drifting carelessly with the wind that rustled the scrubby bushes and the carpet of purple and red flowers of heathers in bloom. In the depth of those lands, away from the grazing animals and the herding shepherds, stood Quinn alone without a sound other than the occasional song of a bird perched on a stunted tree.
This spot had become a routine visiting spot for him in the two weeks Quinn had been visiting the location for the purposes of being alone, away from all peering eyes.
"Let's give this one more try," he said, looking down at the floor. A soft breath of wind blew down, and the grass around Quinn's feet bent away from him. Quinn clenched his feet, and the wind beneath his feet grew stronger. The grass strands were now parallel to the ground they laid their roots in. "Alright, time to puff it up!"
With a burst of magic, the forces of winds, bearing the power of thrust, took Quinn's feet off the grass. He stood still, his back ramrod straight with his feet joined together like a soldier standing at attention.
Quinn kept his chin straight, but his eyes stared down below at the ground, slowly moving away from him. He remembered the first few days when even the initial task of taking his feet off the ground was a toilsome task that he failed for a countless number of times (countless for others, he exactly knew how many times he failed.)
"Okay, this is going good," he muttered, and that's when everything stopped being good. Quinn had mastered the part of lifting up from the ground, but what he hadn't got the manoeuvrability down, he couldn't turn or, in fact, move in any direction other than up. For the nth time, he tried to move, but immediately, the winds went out of control, and his ascending body was thrown into a frenzy.
He sighed — he had screamed in shock a lot in the past two weeks — but now, he couldn't be bothered with it. A blue light covered his body, cutting his momentum, and guided his body gently onto the ground.
With his body flat against the ground, Quinn stared above at the blue sky, his lips pressed into a white line. Ever since in the Architect's Vault's third room, where he had achieved flight in the state of rage, Quinn knew that he could achieve it again, and this time without anger fueling his magic.
He sat up straight and thought back to the last two weeks of continuous failure of achieving flight through wind magic.
According to Quinn's own personal classification, there were two ways to perform a task through magic. The first one was what he called the direct method, while the other one he termed the indirect method. To take an example, cutting an object through a severing charm was the direct method, while cutting via wind blade was the indirect method.
The same went for flight. Quinn's method of flight was the indirect method through wind magic.
'I wonder if Voldemort's method is the direct method or if he's also an indirect method,' he thought. The direct method to flight would be a spell/magic solely crafted for flight, and while Quinn knew from the lore that Voldemort had achieved flight, he didn't know if it was true flight.
"Whatever, not that he will tell me if I ask him," Quinn sat up from the ground, "or, maybe he will if I ask nicely and well. . . join him," he chuckled, "yeah right. . ." Quinn shook his head and got up, stretched his arms, and once got to practice.
The winds contorted under his influence, again picking up power to do his bidding. His body rose in the air like it did every time, and like every time, his control was thrown asunder.
"What am I missing?" he sighed, and just for a change, instead of using Arresto Momentum, he conjured a bubble around himself with his body locked in the center, always staring up. The bubble bounced off the ground, springing across the moors freely, without a course of direction in mind. "Don't tell me it's something so cliché as that, would it?"
Quinn popped the bubble and landed on his feet.
"No harm in trying," he said. "Now, how did it go? The wind is free, the wind is boundless, the wind is without restraint. Yeah, let's see if the jargon works."
Quinn loosened the muscles in his body, changing his stiff posture to the one he was most relaxed. The winds blew, and Quinn furrowed his brows. Keeping his body loose felt conflicting from what he was doing. He stopped the ascent and kept his body hovering only a foot above the ground.
Thomas Edison had once said, 'I have not failed. I've just found ten thousand ways that won't work.' And the man's words did connect with Quinn — he was no stranger to failure; he probably failed more than any individual on a daily basis. But every failure gave Quinn some insight into what he was doing wrong.
He thought back to what was shared in his myriads of failed attempts.
'How do I look at flying?' he thought. 'It wasn't like a bird, no that was a different principle. Planes' flight principle doesn't work either. Jetpack? Well, yes, I have been using thrust to gain altitude, but I have been doing more than a simple jetpack.'
Jetpack's flight method was the closest to his application, but a real-life jetpack was nowhere versatile enough to match its fictional counterparts, and he wanted that versatility.
'Is there a method to achieve that versatility? Hmm. . .'
An idea struck him. It was an inspiration. A strange inspiration — an inspiration from a wrong time, a time he never thought he would draw inspiration from.
The memory of his body leaping from the Astronomy Tower surfaced in his mind. He remembered the sight of Friar's panicked face and what he felt at that moment. There was dormant thought of trusting his magic, but there was another one, standing in the shadow of the first thought.
'Surrender myself to my magic.' At that moment, it was just Quinn and his magic, and in some ways, he had surrendered the control he kept so tight.
"Let's try it," he thought with his intentions evident in his clear eyes.
Quinn loosened his body completely, and instead of using his muscles to control his body, he used wind. His face, which had tucked down because removing strength in his neck, rose up with winds — like a marionette puppet, the winds controlled his body.
In Quinn's terminology, he was currently using the indirect method to control his body. Using his muscles was the direct method while using the wind was the indirect method.
"This is uncomfortable," he said, "but we can work on that." But it was working; he could feel that he would be able to fly freely if he tried right now.
"Let's fly," a smile appeared, and the winds took charge.
With a few grass strands below his being uprooted, Quinn flew — not only did he ascend up, but he began turning in directions. He turned parallel to the ground, and with a thought, he launched himself forward like a flying superhero.
"Woohoo!" he yelled as he twisted and turned in the sky; it was exhilarating and exciting; it was like flying in his animagus form, but a bit different — in his animagus form, flying had come naturally after a while without much effort, but this took an effort to keep flying.
"Yeah, this is uncomfortable," said Quinn, hovering in the air. His movements were choppy, and if he turned too quickly, his body would abruptly bend, and it hurt. "Need to find a method to correct it. How did I do it in the vault?"
He closed his eyes, thought back to the vault, and began a simple three-step thinking process — Observe, Reflect, and Make. He thought back to what he did instinctively during his rage; he had already done this before, but now, he hoped to get additional insight with a breakthrough.
In his memory, he felt the wind against his skin. It was similar to what he was doing now, but it was different. 'It's heavier,' he thought and reflected upon his observation, 'it's like I was displacing the wind inside the sphere.'
In anger, he had formed a sphere of high-velocity spinning wind, but that wasn't feasible in his standard form. That sphere took too much magic and concentration to keep operational and was more of a result of Quinn's desire to be safe, with the wind sphere's primary feature being protection and the flight being a by-product.
His mind then took him to the Great Lake, specifically how he used water magic for swimming. He would cover himself in a teardrop of calm water and manipulate/push the surrounding water to move. Quinn wondered if he could apply that same method here in flight.
"Okay, this is enough for today," said Quinn before turning his sights to the horizon. Now it was time to test it.
He turned himself available invisible and went off. He flew above a distance above the tree, eighty feet above the ground, looking at the scenery as it zoomed past him — the hills, cows, buffalos, sheep, their shepherds, rock mounds, among other things suitable in the moor. Quinn entered the countryside with houses and small communities and flew over people living their lives, leaving behind only a gust of wind on the ground.
As Quinn increased his speed, he started to feel the wind resistance. He couldn't keep his eyes open, and when he tried, they immediately dried up, while the wind hitting his skin started to sting. Quinn decided to apply his swimming method and created a pocket of air around him to solve the problem, which cut the harsh winds with speed from hitting him.
He grinned; with the problem solved, he sped up, flying faster than any helicopter and even faster than some fast-flying birds.
That day, there were gossips around some places that people heard pitched yelling noises from the sky, zooming past them, but when they looked up, there was nothing there. Soon, the gossips from places distant from each other reached each other, and they realized that it wasn't their ears ringing.
It was picked up by a morning show on the cable network and was categorized with a UFO teacher / extra-terrestrial sighting.
Quinn had achieved flight.
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It was a day before Quinn would leave for his two-day trip to Switzerland, and he had something to do before leaving for the trip.
He looked at the snowy white building that towered over the other little shops in the Diagon Alley. He stood in front of the burnished bronze doors with a pair of goblins wearing uniforms of scarlet and gold. As he climbed the steps and entered Gringotts, the bank guards bowed in curtsey that he returned.
He walked past the second set of silver doors, not giving the Gringotts warning any attention. He wasn't here to steal anything, so there wasn't necessary to pay head.
Another pair of goblins bowed him through the silver doors. He entered the vast marble halls, and about a hundred more goblins were sitting on high stools behind a long counter, scribbling in large ledgers, weighing coins in brass scales, examining precious stones through eyeglasses. There were too many doors to count leading off the hall, and yet more goblins were showing people in and out of these.
He walked to a free teller and stood in front of the counter, waiting for the bank goblin to speak to him.
"Speak," said the teller goblin after ten seconds of wait, looking at him with his beady and calculative eyes.
"Good morning," Quinn said with a smile, "I'm here because I want to sell something of value today, and I'm hoping that Gringotts would be able to offer me a good deal of coin for it."
The goblin teller, Riphook, looked at the human before him. To their kind, it was difficult to make out humans from other humans if not for some standout feature or if they were someone famous. To Riphook, who was trained in identifying humans because of their jobs, he determined that the human in front of him was a human child. Riphook narrowed his eyes; he was skeptical if this Quinn would have anything of as Quinn stated of value.
"What do you want to sell?" asked Riphook, in a no-nonsense voice.
Quinn smiled and took out a purple palm-sized velvet box from his pockets and placed it on the goblin's counter. Quinn gestured for the goblin to go ahead and take a look at the box. The goblin picked up the box, but when he opened the box, it wasn't a ring as he expected; instead, there was a gold coin sitting on the velvet cushion.
"This. . . " uttered Riphook, looking at the coin in his hand.
Every Gringotts coin ever minted the bank, was enchanted with a special magic for identification purposes. That spell was only cast by goblins — goblins who worked in the minting part of Gringotts, and humans had no knowledge about the spell, just that Gringotts was able to which coins were real. So when Riphook looked at the coin in his hand, which sported a design he didn't recognize, he thought it was a fake, but that chain of thought was squashed when he felt the goblin magic cast on the coin.
Riphook looked up from the coin and asked, "What is this?"
Quinn smiled, "I'm here to sell a Gringotts galleon from a thousand years past."
Riphook sucked in a breath. A thousand-year-old coin! Gringotts held old coin designs in their archives, but he wasn't sure if they had a thousand-year-old galleon in their collection. He looked down at the coin again, and now he looking at an important piece of goblin history — something that should belong with the goblins and not in the hands of a human.
He had to buy this, no matter what the cost. But this was outside his authority, and the coin in question was too important.
"If your claim is true, then Gringotts might think about buying this galleon," said Riphook, playing it cool. "For that, I'll have to call in a goblin scholar who specializes in old coins and would be able to verify your claim," he stood up from his chair, "so if you don't mind, will you accompany me to a waiting room where we will further discuss this mind."
"I don't mind."
"Wonderful," Riphook smiled a toothy grin, "please follow me; I'll lead you to the room." He could have called someone else to escort Quinn, but this was too big of a deal, and he couldn't risk losing recognition of bringing in such a valuable item back to the goblin nation; as such, Riphook decided to stick with Quinn for the whole deal.
"Lead the way," said Quinn smiling. "Though I do have another request."
"Yes, don't be shy, please do tell."
"While waiting, if I could discuss matters with my vault manager, that'd be great."
"That can be arranged. Tell me your manager's name, and I'll need the key to your vault."
"My vault manager's name is Bloodpike." Quinn handed Riphook his key, and the goblin nodded shortly after.
"Everything seems to be in order. I'll have Bloodpike meet you as soon as possible." The goblin looked up at Quinn as they walked through the many gates, "My apologies, I haven't gotten your name yet; how shameful for me."
"My name is West. . . Quinn West."
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Quinn West - MC - Flying & Selling.
Riphook - Looking for a promotion - This will definitely lead to my promotion.
FictionOnlyReader - Author - It's not a meaningless cliff; I have more Gringotts planned. Look forward to tomorrow.
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Chapter 257: Selling To The Goblins
If you want to read ahead, you can check out my Patreón @
[ https://www.patreón.com/fictiononlyreader ]
The link is also in the synopsis.
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Riphook stilled in shock as he turned to stare at his newly identified seller. The story of Wests was infamous in Gringotts. How over the years, little by little, the Wests had pulled out their money from their vaults and transferred it into another one overseas. In the history of the British Isles, where their bank had been the singular option with no alternatives, an account like Wests pulling all of their money out had never happened — the only times an account left Gringotts was when they didn't have enough money to maintain their account and pay for Gringotts services, such was never the case for Wests, it was as far as that.
It was a black spot in their history. They were the human's entire banking industry, and even if the human's never allowed them wands, they couldn't take the banking away from goblins — it irked the humans much, but there was nothing they could do about it — ironclad contracts had been inked more than a millennium ago, and even without that, the humans couldn't deny their excellent services.
". . . West, you say."
"Yes, Quinn West."
"I see. Let's proceed to the meeting room."
Riphook looked at the exit he was going to take before he knew who Quinn was — it led to a lower-grade meeting room, that room was, of course, out of the question now, even if Gringotts saw minimal business from Wests, they couldn't treat them like any other random that person that walked in the bank.
Moreover, this was an opportunity. Riphook glanced at Quinn from the corner of his eyes. Walking beside him was a younger member of the West family, and young meant future — if he could somehow form a good relation with this child, that could see Gringotts get more business from Wests in the future, and as a bonus, he would get recognition and praise for making it happen.
'Time to hammer the gold into galleons,' he thought and chose another exit, this one leading to one of Gringotts fancier meeting rooms that they used to entertain their high-profile clientele.
"If you'd wait in here, I'd be back in a bit with our appraiser and Bloodpike," Riphook opened the door to the meeting room.
Quinn smiled at the goblin as Riphook closed the door behind him. He turned back, and instead of the typical meeting room, the room was more of a lounge setting. There was a gilded chandelier illuminating the room with a fully-stocked bar, beautiful paintings on the walls, luxurious furniture — the entire room glimmered with posh in its every corner.
He sat down on a very comfortable sofa and looked at the room. "They sure are going all out," he said with a chuckle in his voice, "and here I thought they would be upset with me. Well, I am bringing them a part of their history and culture."
Quinn took out the velvet coin case with the old galleon. Instead of melting down the old, outdated galleon into a gold brick that would sit in a bank vault, selling it to the goblins for its historical value was much more beneficial.
As he set down the case on the low-table in front of him, the door to the meeting lounge opened.
Quinn looked up at the door and asked with a slightly tilted head, "Who might you be?" The girl, no the young woman, standing by the door wasn't the goblin he was expecting.
"Good morning," the woman stepped forward with a cultivated grace, "my name is Thalice."
"Hello, Thalice. My name is Quinn. It's nice to meet you, but I'm confused as to why you are here."
Thalice smiled, revealing her perfect pearly white behind her rosy lips, "Teller Riphook told me to come here to keep you company while he goes fetch your vault manager."
"How nice of him."
Thalice smiled before pointing at the bar in the room. "Would you like to drink something? The bar is stocked with all kinds of beverages, even some goblin drinks if you'd like to try them. I recommend that you do give them a try — they're a different taste from what we have in our pubs and shelves."
Quinn shook his head with a polite smile, "Thank you for the offer, but I'm not feeling to drink something right now, maybe some other time."
Thalice nodded understandingly, walked over to the sofa set, and sat right next to Quinn, bringing over a pleasant scent of tastefully sprayed perfume with notes of citrus over a woody vanilla along with a floral tone that he couldn't make out.
"So Quinn, tell me about yourself."
"Hmm, something about myself. . . I like magic. Would you like to see some?"
"I would love to, but it wouldn't be wise to draw your wand in the goblin grounds. It goes against both Gringotts' rules and the treaty terms," said the Gringotts employee, her meticulously maintained brows furrowing.
"It's alright," said Quinn, mischief flashing in his eyes, "I don't need my wand to perform this magic; I don't even need to cast a spell. It's a special sort of magic, completely safe and not in violation of any treaty agreements."
". . . If you say so," said Thalia, giving Quinn a silent look, doubtful if such magic existed.
Quinn reached into his pockets and took out a pattern-engraved silver card case gifted to him by Marcus. "All I need are a deck of playing cards," Quinn grinned, swiping the case open to reveal a deck with crimson-and-gold backs.
Thalice watched as the cards moved under the skillful movements of Quinn's digits. "Wow~," she said with fascination, clapping lightly.
"Alright, I'm going to spring the cards from one hand to the other," he pressed the cards slightly, and they shot to his other hand. "I want you to stop me at a point in the middle — any point you desire — and I'll stop for you to pick the top card, understood?"
Thalice nodded.
"Excellent, tell me to stop," he started the spring flourish.
"Stop!"
Quinn stopped and presented the split deck in his lower hand, "Good, now take the card, don't show it to me, but memorize it — suit and all. Done? Perfect, now place it back. Yeah, just like that." He shuffled the cards a bit before hiding the deck between his palms. "Now, do you think I know what your card is — know that I'm not using any magic, and this deck is as standard as it gets."
"No, you wouldn't know what my card is," she said, looking at Quinn with an amused smile.
"Wouldn't be impressed if I pick out a card from the deck and it turns out to be the one you chose?"
"Very."
"And that's what I'm going to do," he removed the deck from his palm and began looking through it, and somewhere in the middle, a smile appeared on his face, and he discreetly pushed a card up with his pinky, making it stand out from the other cards, and pulled out a gasp from his audience.
"I'm assuming this your card."
"Yes! This is my card!" Thalice grabbed Quinn's hand along with the deck, pulling them close to her. "How did you do that?! You must've used some magic; there's no other way," she looked up from the cards and leaned closer, "how did you do it?"
Quinn softly smiled, "A magician never reveals his secret, miss. It's against our sacred code."
"Aww, can you tell me, please~? I won't tell anyone else, I promise."
"My apologies, but I can't. But, how about I interest you in another one?"
Thalice let go of Quinn's hand, "Yes, please," her eyes shining like an excited child.
"Alright, I will again ask of you to choose a card from the deck." Quinn spread the cards in a fan with the cards facing Thalice for her to choose, who picked a card and looked at it before putting the card back as per Quinn's instructions.
"Now, I'm going to spread and shuffle them all over the table, just to make sure that I wasn't cheating in any way." Quinn laid the deck over the table and thoroughly shuffled with his palms. "How about just to be more thorough, you also give it a good shuffle?"
Thalice leaned ahead, her silver necklace dangling from her exposed neck and slightly low-cut top.
"Good, now, pay attention to my hands to ensure that I'm not using any trickery." She nodded, and her eyes remained trained on Quinn's hand that hovered the mat of cards.
Quinn suddenly placed a finger on a card, "I feel it; this is your card. I'm sure of it." He lightly flicked the card's edge to flip it over and reveal an ace of diamonds.
"No, that isn't my card!" Thalice bounced in her spot, clapping her hands. "Haha, you're wrong —" Her voice died when she looked up from the cards to Quinn and saw a queen of hearts loosely hanging off an edge from Quinn's lips.
"Really," he grinned, "a pity that I was wrong. Maybe, I'm not worthy of the beautiful craft of magic."
"How. . . when. . . that's not possible," said Thalice.
"It's magic, my dear; everything's possible," said Quinn, mysteriously before continuing, "You have beautiful eyes, Thalice."
Thalice found herself staring into the pair of stone-grey eyes, and even though they were an uncommon color, there was something else in there that she couldn't look away.
The door to the lounge opened, and whatever it was broke as Thalice realized she was staring unknowingly. She turned to the door and saw three goblins — the third goblin made her eyes widen. She looked back at Quinn, who opened his card case for the cards to stack themselves neatly in a deck before packing themselves into the case.
"Mr. West," said one of the goblins, dressed in clothes better than Riphook, "my name is Bloodpike; I'm your vault manager."
"Nice to meet you, Bloodpike," said Quinn. "I can't believe that in the six years my vault has been here, this is the first time we have met."
"Indeed, your transactions mostly come from order cheques," said Bloodpike, "I have only seen your signatures over hundreds of cheque leaves, but no you."
"Well, better late than never," said Quinn.
As Quinn was talking with Bloodpike, Riphook was communicating wordlessly with Thalice. He looked at her and silently asked a question, but Thalice shook her head with a silent sigh, making Riphook frown.
"Mr. West," said Riphook, "let me introduce to you the appraiser, Bogrod." The appraiser nodded but didn't say anything.
Quinn nodded back, but he had noticed Thalice's change in expression. He glanced at Riphook, and he had to say that the teller was trying hard for this. Quinn had seen the peculiarities in the human Gringotts employee — she was too flirtatious, the subtle touches, how she had sat right beside him when everywhere else was wide empty. And when he had peeked into Thalice's mind, he knew that his guesses were correct — she was hired by Gringotts to flirt with clients to make them more impressionable and agreeable during the deals. Every act of her was to put the advantage to Gringotts' side — even when she suggested a drink, she was trying to get him tipsy using the extremely high-alcohol content in the goblin drinks. But all Thalice got from her probing was that Quinn liked magic.
The three goblins sat opposite Quinn, with Thalice leaving the room. Quinn gave the coin case to Bogrod, who took out a loupe (special magnifying glass) and started to observe the coin with his other hand constantly fiddling with the coin.
The ancient goblin spoke in an old voice, "This is a genuine galleon. . . the spell is old, different from what we use today, but the magic is surely goblin brand and from Gringotts." He looked up at Quinn and nodded, "this coin is indeed a thousand-year-old."
"That's great," said Quinn.
"How much do you want for this, child?" asked Bogrod.
"Fifty thousand galleons," said Quinn.
Bogrod shook his head, "Too much. Gringotts can give you thirty-thousand at most."
"I'll come down to forty-five, but not any lower; how about it?"
Bogrod refused his counter price, "I can move up to thirty-two, but not a knut more."
Quinn went silent and stared at Bogrod. He was dressed in simple clothing, but they were clearly better than even Bloodpike's. The other two goblins hadn't spoken a word as Bogrod negotiated on his own. He was clearly someone very important and in a higher position in Gringotts.
"I won't go below forty," said Quinn, "if I don't get my price here, I can always put the coin to auction, and I'm sure some goblins in the goblin nation would be very happy to take it off my hand."
Bogrod's sharp eyes stared at Quinn. 'Wests,' he thought. Gringotts was one of the biggest banks in the magical world, with many countries where they had a monopoly over the banking sector just like they had in the British Isles, which was their home base — the first Gringotts to ever exist. So it was a disgrace on their reputation when that very branch had lost the biggest client they had and that too without them knowing.
"Okay," he said, "I agree on forty thousand galleons." He wanted to refuse and tell the child that he could try his luck in the auctions, but this was about their history, and the coin should righteously belong with Gringotts and not in some individual's showcase.
"Good," smiled Quinn, reached into his pockets, and took out two more coin cases, "would you like to buy a sickle and knut? I have them right here."
The three goblins froze in their seats, staring at the two coin cases as Quinn opened them and showed an ancient sickle and knut sitting in the boxes.
"I want forty more for each — a total of eighty thousand. No negotiation, take it or leave it," said Quinn. While the Architect's vault was all gold and jewels, there were quite a few sickles and knuts lying around.
". . . We will take it," said Bogrod, sighing.
"Excellent, hundred and twenty thousand galleons, not bad for a day, not bad at all. It was good doing business with Gringotts," said Quinn.
"Thank you for returning this to us," said Bogrod. He wasn't bothered by the money that had exchanged hands — for Gringotts, it was that much of a big deal, but getting the coins was a significant event.
"It was my pleasure. I know the importance of historical artifacts, so I'm glad that these coins have made it back their way to goblin nation."
Bogrod nodded, took the coins in his hands, and silently began observing them. It was the indication that his job was done here.
From there, Bloodpike took over, "The galleons will be deposited to your vaults, Mr. West —"
"Ah, please don't do that," said Quinn, "I will be taking the galleons with me, and now that you have brought it up, I would like to talk about the reason for the meeting with you.
"My vault will be transitioning to be solely under my name."
When his vault had been set up before his first year at Hogwarts, the vault was a joint account between Quinn and Ms. Rosey (because she handled that portion of finances), and she would deposit a set amount every month in Quinn's account as part of his allowance.
But after getting the Architect's wealth, Quinn had decided to stop taking an allowance from his family. Another step to his independence. He had an argument with his grandfather about his decision — Quinn didn't want the money while George wanted to continue the allowance.
Quinn argued the case that he had his royalties and his newly gained wealth; as such, he didn't need an allowance. While George remained adamant that Quinn was still in school and it was his(George's) responsibility to support him till the day Quinn was ready, which according to George, was at least not before Quinn's apprenticeship with Alan D. Baddeley, and if Quinn was thinking right, George would continue to keep him on an allowance if he took more apprenticeships after the first one — which Quinn had given thought to.
After an hour of back-and-forth, the grandson-grandfather came to a mutual decision.
Quinn wouldn't get a monthly allowance, just like Lia, who had also stopped taking an allowance when she graduated and got a job — but Quinn, like his sister, was going to gain a trust fund in his name, which would be regularly added with funds and those regularly added funds would grow through investments handled by a team of West-employed fund managers.
These trust funds were for the two siblings. So if one day they required emergency money, they could look there and take it out without needing to ask anyone, including George. Which, in essence, was still an allowance, but with extra steps. George West, much like his grandchildren, was prideful and stubborn.
"The monthly deposits will be stopping from the month of September. Furthermore, I'm going to impose a twenty thousand galleon limit on the vault, and every time the money in the vault exceeds, I'd like to be informed," said Quinn before taking out an envelope. "These are my instructions that I want to be applied on my vault when it changes ownership on the first of September."
Bloodpike took the envelope and pocketed it. He was going to look at it later. He was a vault manager who handled high-level accounts; this account was nowhere near his usual level, but because it was a West account, it had been assigned to him, and he had taken it. He wondered if this account would ever do something for him, but looking from Quinn's spoken instructions, he was planning to restrict his wealth in Gringotts — just like his family.
"Understood," he said, "I'll make these changes accordingly."
"Thank you," said Quinn and looked at Bogrod. There was another reason he had come here today, and initially, he was going to discuss the other matter with Bloodpike, but seeing that Bogrod was of a much higher authority, he was going to deal with him.
"Mr. Bogrod," said Quinn, "I have another matter I would like to discuss with you."
Bogrod looked up from the coins. "Yes? What is it?" he asked, feeling happy about his gains today.
"I want to talk to you about this," Quinn handed the goblin a slip of paper, "it's only for your eyes."
Bogrod took the slip and unfolded the slip, and there was a single word on it. "Leave us alone," said the old goblin, in a deeper voice for a goblin.
Riphook and Bloodpike stared at Bogrod, stupefied at the sudden order, but followed it nevertheless, leaving him with Quinn.
"What would prompt you to bring this up?" asked Bogrod, his voice somber. He turned the slip and showed Quinn the word he had written.
Horcrux
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Quinn West - MC - Gold, Silver, Bronze. . . I have them all.
Riphook - Goblin Teller - Looking for an opportunity to rise up the ladder.
Bloodpike - Goblin Vault Manager - High-profile banker.
Bogrod - Goblin Higher-Up - About to converse with "Quinn."
Thalice - Gringotts Employee - Got too mesmerized by magic to properly do her job.
FictionOnlyReader - Author - This finally felt like a "me" chapter after such a long time. This was very satisfying to write.
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If you have any ideas regarding the magic you want to see in this fiction or want to offer some ideas regarding the progression. Move onto the DISCORD Server and blast those ideas.
The link is in the synopsis!
CREATORS' THOUGHTS
FictionOnlyReader
FictionOnlyReader
Just like always,
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