All of Gringotts had been a flutter for the past two days.  It hadn't taken the employees there long to make the connection: that the murder victim who had turned up torn in two[1] had had some connection to the goblin-run bank.  The grim, humorless Aurors had walked quietly through the echoing, cavernous halls, and then someone had realized that Terrence Dawlish[2] hadn't turned up for work since the prior Friday.  Even if she hadn't had an old school friend to quietly keep her in the loop, Raizel could have put two and two together. 

Judging by what had been reported in the Prophet, whatever had happened was bad.  The body had been torn in two.  And she knew -- the Aurors suspected -- that there was some connection to the Wizengamot member's murder back in August.[3]  Two deaths by dark magic in such a short span, both positioned in very public locations -- both with glowing green lines shaped like a goblin-sized door nearby -- the obvious conclusion was that one culprit had been responsible for both deaths.

Which meant that she wanted to be anywhere but here and involved in the thick of it.  Raizel had no idea why the goblins had asked her to accompany them to the Ministry that day.  To translate, one of them had gruffly said.  But most goblins were more than capable of speaking English; they did not normally need Cursebreakers to speak for them.  Not knowing why they wanted her here was making her stomach twist into an uncomfortably painful knot.

She followed the two down the hallway, her shadow cast over them, important looking memos fluttering to the left and right around them as they passed.  Level One, where the Minister's Office was located, was even more active than the Department of Magical Law Enforcement had been.  Raizel kept her expression blank, her stride even; it was only the tenseness in her shoulders and the way that her eyes constantly shifted back and forth that gave any hint that this visit was anything but professionally desirable.

She did not know either of the two goblins well.  The younger one, Borduk, had long, stringy hair and spindly fingers.  He was not normally involved in the day-to-day operations within the bank; from what she had been able to gather, he handled contacts with outside agencies.  Back in August, when Auror Radley and Auror Trevelyan had come to ask questions about the account of the Wizengamot Elder who had been murdered, he had been the one to address them.  On their more recent visit, after Dawlish's likely murder, he had shadowed them almost constantly.

She did not know the elder goblin either, but that was by choice.  Argull was silent and taciturn; he rarely spoke.  Being this close to him now made Raizel feel as if her teeth were set on edge.  She hoped -- almost desperately, almost in spite of herself -- that while they were here, they would not cross the path of any Aurors.

They didn't.  The lift had stopped at the first floor.  From there, it was a short walk to the Minister's office.  They were obviously expected; it didn't take long for one of the Minister's aides to quickly show them inside.  And before Raizel knew it, they were standing in front of the desk of Persepolis Zephyr, the newly elected Minister of Magic.

"Minister Zephyr," Borduk said stiffly.  Neither goblin bowed; they just stared at the Minister with their dark, beady eyes, as if evaluating her silently.

Raizel stopped short behind them just inside the doorway, crossing her arms uneasily, a scroll of parchment and a quill tucked under one arm.  Until she knew what this was about, she was happy to wait right by the exit.  At least this way, if she needed to, she could make a quick escape.

1.	CORPSE AT WESTMINSTER ABBEY
2.	NPC Bio
3.	WIZENGAMOT ELDER FOUND DEAD

Goblins.  Persepolis could never say so, not in her position (or any position she'd held in the last decade), but she did not like them.  It was plain enough they didn't like her and now probably even less.  As Minister of Magic, she presided over a government that regulated their behavior, their movements, their magic.  Their strange, secretive magic.  But if not for Wizarding kind, there was no telling if the goblins would abide by the Statute of Secrecy.  Needless to say, when there were goblins in the building, things got tense.

They'd demanded an audience with her, goblins from Gringotts, and after some waffling there was not much more they could do avoid it, not without causing a banking crisis.  She'd have to see them.  But she buffeted herself with staff, and so Minister Zephyr was waiting with a financial expert, an agent from Control of Magical Creatures who was supposed to know Gobbledegook, and a scribe.

She set her face sternly straightened up her full stature when the goblins were shown in.  Behind them was a young blonde witch with Gringotts markings on her robes.

"Sirs," she greeted formally, in her low voice.  She returned their lack of bowing with a lack of a nod, and looked to them with the same straight stare they awarded her.

"Whom am I addressing?  And how may the Ministry of Magic serve you today?"

Formal.  Calm.  Professional.  That would get them through.  Her silver tongue never failed her.

She didn't know very much about her, this strange, foreign British Minister.  Raizel kept up only nominally with what was printed in the Daily Prophet; news of political challenges and frothing Waters of Acclamation was not nearly exciting or comprehensible enough to grab her attention.  But now, Raizel studied her curiously across the room, peering over the goblins' heads.  Persepolis Zephyr was a no-nonsense, stern-looking woman, nearly as stiff as the barely-moving photograph in the Prophet would have her believe.  From what little she had read, the witch had formerly been the head of the Hogwarts Governors; she was rumored to be a silver-tongued politician, and it was said that she took divination and omens very seriously.  Raizel could almost picture her as a more matronly, less paranoid version of Dreogan Eleor.

They were nearly at a standoff, the four witches and wizards, the two goblins, and her.  Raizel stayed still.  The sense that she was one of the least significant people in the room was overwhelming, and as much as it was safer this way, it still prickled her.  She eyed her counterpart, the young wizard in Ministry robes who had the look of a recorder.

The goblins were clearly in no mood to be rushed.  They never were when they wanted something.  Both were still staring at Minister Zephyr, as if all of the other people in the room were nonexistent.

"You may serve us by providing answers," Borduk said gruffly.  He did not respond to the Minister's request for an introduction, Raizel noticed; instead, he went on impudently, his eyes fixed on the witch.  "Do your portents explain why you have sought to insult Gringotts so soon after taking office, Minister?"

Tiresome creatures.  Neither goblin or witch identified themselves, but instead began in typical goblin fashion - an accusation.  Persepolis had never gotten it straight; whether aggression and adversarialism was just part and parcel of goblin culture, or if they just lacked in proper manners. 

Either way, these goblins and the rest of the Wizarding Britain would soon find out that Minister of Magic Persepolis Zephyr was no wilting violet.  She'd meet like with like, and have no tolerance for goblin games.

"I am well aware that even the day-to-day business of the Ministry of Magic causes goblins offence, so you shall have to be more specific," she said, pressing her fingertips on the top of her desk and turning her head slightly.  Persepolis was dressed as she often did, although now in office, there was something even more regal about her traditional witches' robes that she always wore.  The cut was better, her hat even bigger. 

Staring down the scribe was not proving to be much of a challenge.  He was a shrinking, pasty-faced man with very pink cheeks, and he had quickly dropped his gaze within a few moments of Raizel making penetrating eye contact.  She kept glaring regardless.  If she was going to be forced to suffer through this, at least she could put someone in their place.

Apparently Borduk was adopting the same strategy.  He was still staring at the Minister, with Argull silent and menacing alongside him.  It was quite the sight: the two goblins facing off against the stately-looking witch and her entourage.  If she hadn't known better -- if she hadn't learned quite literally firsthand what they could be capable of -- the height difference alone would have been enough to make Raizel smirk.

Borduk eyed the Minister for a moment longer, and then snapped a finger over his shoulder.  Raizel knew her cue.  Giving a quiet huff at the indignity of it all, she freed the scroll from under her arm and gingerly unrolled it.  If the goblins were going to expect her to read off all of their complaints, this meeting was likely to take quite some time.

"One," she began in a very bored tone.  Most employees at Gringotts could list off half of these; Raizel knew most of them by heart.  "The Ministry of Magic, henceforth to be referred to as the Despotic and Authoritarian Ruling Regime that Oppresses Goblinkind, refuse to lift Clause Three of the 1631 Code of Wand Use decree.  Two: Contrary to the Negotiated Settlement of 1865, the Despotic and Authoritarian Ruling Regime continue to try and exert undue influence over Gringotts Bank.  Three: Despite continued protests lodged with the Goblin Liaison Office, the Statue of Magical Brethren remains in the entrance to the Wizard-Run Ministry, depicting a goblin in an unnatural supplicating position.  Four: The Despotic Oppressors continue to refuse to return any number of goblin-made objects despite a lack of any current commission of ownership."  She cleared her throat.  Reading so much aloud in English made her head hurt.  "This includes: Subitem One, the Sword of Godric Gryffindor.  Subitem Two, the Cup of Helga Hufflepuff.  Subitem Three --"

"You know the list, Minister."  When Borduk cut in with his gravely, raspy voice, Raizel immediately stopped talking.  The goblin's eyes were still locked on the Minister.  "We have lodged our complaints before, and still you wand-bearers offend us.  But since you have taken office, the insults have become far worse."  He smiled, but there was no humor in the expression; it merely showed off his yellowed teeth.  Across the room, Raizel thought she saw the young recording wizard shiver.   "So tell us: Why does Minister Zephyr seek to attack our sovereignty and embarrass us so soon after rising to her position?"

And the purpose of the witch among the goblins became clear.  She was herald.  Persepolis blinked slowly as she began and continued to read a familiar and tired list of grievances.  It was so old, in fact, that she was sure it was still being taught in the sixth year curriculum at Hogwarts. 

She blinked slowly again when a goblin cut off the litany, slowly like a coiled dangerous lion tolerating some pesky micro-threat.  She almost felt relieved.  There was nothing new on the list.  Perhaps this was a welcoming party her staff had forgotten to tell her about, a typical goblin orientation, a way for Gringotts to acclimate her to their historical row.  A ceremony, almost.  What a peculiar job this was.

Zephyr the Minister opened her palms wide and opened her arms in a quiet shrug.  "Forgive me, master goblin, but as I said, you will have to be more specific.  Your complaints as listed," she made the briefest eye contact with the blonde witch, "are still on file.  If your meaning is to remind me of them, I can count that business done, and my staff will show you out until next time.

"However, if there is new business, please - hold us in suspense no longer." 

Borduk stared at the witch for a long moment, and then gave another slow, menacing smile.  Somehow, Raizel thought, the expression only made the creature look more inhuman.  This time, she was the one to fight back a shudder, the fingers of her right hand curling against the scroll.

"There are two new items of business," he said snidely.  "Or in the case of one, old business that has become suddenly relevant.  Scribe," he commanded sharply, waving a dismissive hand at Raizel.  "Item Four, Subitem Seventeen."

Raizel scowled, but she was far too aware of the two goblins standing in front of her to lodge a more vocal protest.  Raising the parchment again, she scanned down the list.

"Item Four: The Despotic Oppressors continue to refuse to return any number of goblin-made objects despite a lack of any current commission of ownership." She flew quickly through the words of the main clause, rehashing what she had just read out loud.  "This includes Subitem Seventeen --"  It took her a moment to find it; most recitations of The Affronts did not make it this far.  As she read the words, her eyes widened, and she looked up at the witch and wizards across the room, blinking in surprise.  "The Goblet of Fire."

Beside her, Borduk was still smiling nastily, fully showing off each and every one of his pointed teeth.

"Which is currently being lorded over us from your stronghold of Hogwarts!" he said triumphantly, jabbing a finger in the direction of Zephyr.  "Do you deny that you hold it captive, Minister Zephyr?  Or that you wand-bearers celebrate your unlawful possession of it nearly every day in your little paper?"

And there it was.  The true purpose of the goblins' rendezvous!  The Goblet of Fire!  The staff around Persepolis seemed shocked and some of them even muttered quiet oaths.  Persepolise herself endured and did her best to conceal a moment of panic.  In that moment, she realized these goblins had the ability to ruin what she'd worked so hard to make a reality, how she'd stood in full support and facilitation of the ex-Headmistress's ambitious plan to bring back the Tournament to Hogwarts.  How Zephyr had levvied and nudged to ensure that it returned under a new banner, one that would help the Wizarding World reclaim its identity as an enlightened, remarkable people. 

And the goblins would sully all of that.  Ruin what helped her become Ministry of Magic. 

Her chest was tight, but her jaw was set.  She looked pointedly at her aide responsible for informing her of goblin issues and he rushed over to whisper quickly in her ear.

"The Goblet of Fire," she stated when the aide had stepped away, back to his place, "is property of the Ministry of Magic's Department of Games and Sports, and their possession of it is completely legal under Ministry of Magic law.  It is vital to the long and storied tradition of the Tournament and any goblin claim to it is unfounded and undocumented by our courts."

"And furthermore, there is no proof that it is even goblin-made.[1]  I don't think you'll be disrupting this Tournament anytime soon, sirs."

1.	May or may not be true, but perhaps this is the Ministry's official stance when it comes to these sorts of things.

It was a debate that she had heard both sides of many times before, though not in regards to this particular object.  The Ministry's position was always to deny, deny, deny: ownership couldn't be proven, the item in question wasn't goblin-made, wizarding inheritance laws took precedence over goblin ones.  The goblins rarely, if ever, won.  The only goblin-created objects that she had ever heard of returning to Gringott's care were those reacquired by Cursebreakers, not through negotiations.  And though breaking into Hogwarts would pose an interesting challenge for a Cursebreaker -- albeit one that she would never admit to mulling over, especially if Adon was within earshot -- it did not seem a likely avenue in this instance.

Which meant that there had to be something else at work here.  Some other play.  The goblins had not been happy about the reinstatement of the Tournament; apparently last time around, a Ministry official had cheated them out of quite a bit of gold after he had bet erroneously on Harry Potter.  Riling up trouble was very much in character, but she doubted it was solely for the sake of creating a headache.

Well, maybe if it created a major headache, Raizel thought.  But for this much effort, it would have to be a pretty good one.

Borduk was sneering again at the Minister.  The blonde mage kept her mouth firmly shut, her eyes shifting intently between the goblin and the witch as she listened silently.

"Then submit it to examination by a Cursebreaker!" he snapped.  "You and your kind have been refusing the proper magical tests for seven centuries, Minister!  And why?  Because you know that not even a wizard could deny the presence of goblin-woven enchantments up close!"

He barked out a laugh, still grinning nastily at Zephyr, his gaze fixed greedily on her.  "And if you are thinking of refusing," he said malevolently, "don't forget that there is a great deal of money moving around to pay for the permits you need for this tournament.  The one for centaur participation, for instance.  As well as that goblin that you contracted with us for."  The smirk that he gave the Minister was so bone-chilling that a shiver nearly ran down Raizel's spine.  "If you do not give us access to the Goblet, then we will freeze Ministry funds until you wand-bearers have paid for seven hundred and fifteen years worth of ownership rights."  His beady eyes gleamed.  "With interest."

Persepolis's face darkened, and she frowned deeply at the goblins and even a little accusingly at the witch who was with them.  The goblins were threatening to cripple the Ministry of Magic, to stall all access to the gold that made the Wizarding World go round.  It was leverage they had not hesitated to bend before.  It had to be handled carefully.

Goblinkind was bound to obey the Ministry of Magic, ever since the Statute of Secrecy required the union of all the magical brethren.  But the union had always been contentious and at times, even violent.  And the current Minister of Magic had no doubts that this time would be no different - the goblin's control over Gringotts bank was complete and she knew they could follow through on the threat and that thousands of lives would be affected. 

And so it began.  The real work of the Minister of Magic would be brought to her by the most contentious faction in Wizarding Britain.  It would test her and in the long pause she took to consider thier thread - this ... blackmail, she resolved herself.  She was hungry for this challenge and she decided that the only outcome would be success.  She had the resources.  She had the guile.  And perhaps she could do what others before her had not - find a lasting solution that would cease goblin aggression. 

She inhaled and exhaled slowly. 

"As I have come to expect from your kind, your offer is shrewd and you'll understand that it will require my full consideration."  Persepolis needed time, and she doubted that would be easy to procure.

"I will require ninety days."

The goblin sneered.  "You will get three," he said nastily.  "We require an answer by Monday.  If we do not receive your owl by the time the bank opens in the morning, then the interest rate on the Goblet will start at 17%."

It was with a great, foreboding weight that Argull finally shifted position.  Raizel didn't bother to hide the look on her face as she shrank back away from the two goblins, clenching her right hand into a hard fist behind her back.  No other Gringotts goblin made her nearly as unsettled as Argull, and even now, standing this close to him, it was hard to resist the unconscious urge to run far away.

Borduk demured as soon as the older goblin cleared his throat; it was clear from the spokesman's reaction who was the true power here.  Argull's glinting, gimlet eyes were already focused on the witch.

"Come," he said, in a dry, dusty voice that hinted at dark, abandoned corridors and ancient, forgotten ledgers.  "We don't want the Minister to think that we're unreasonable beings, Borduk.  We understand that these decisions take time, of course."  Argull smiled, and somehow it was more sinister than even Borduk's expression; Raizel could have sworn that the older goblin's eyes flicked to her for a fraction of a second.  "But of course you also understand that we can't push back a deadline for nothing, Minister Zephyr. If you want us to give you more time, then you will have to give us a concession in return."

Zephyr knew the goblins would never accept ninety days, and that they'd shoot lower.  But not so low as three.  And in this moment, right now, the only leverage Persepolis Zephyr had was brute force.  And now was not the time to escalate; she could stall and delay with the best of them.  Three days would become five, would become fourteen, all until a solution was found. 

A solution that satiated the goblins, but one that ultimately protected the interest of witches and wizards under her care as Minister of Magic.  She narrowed her eyes when the elder of the two goblins finally spoke.  She could tell now that all this time he was senior to the other two delegates.  She regretted not focusing on him sooner - she'd been giving all her glances to the other...  Interesting...

"The Ministry of Magic will take as much time as it needs to carefully consider your complaint.  The concession you will be afforded is the same one that all of Wizarding Britain is privileged to: you will enjoy the protection and stewardship of the Ministry of Magic.  If you're seeking special treatment, I'm afraid you'll not find it here," she said, still without a smile for the goblin leader.

"I expect that Gringotts will not be so hasty as to do something as foolish as your colleague has suggested.  That sort of thing could indefinitely delay the normal functioning and therefore the speedy deliberation regarding the Goblet of Fire. I hope you understand."

A threat and a response.  All talk, Persepolis hoped, for now.

The Minister was holding steady; nothing about her hinted that she might afford the goblins any concession.  But Argull was standing his ground as well.  Raizel held her breath, far more attentive now to the power struggle going on before her; she did not pay the other wizards standing alongside Zephyr even a second glance.

Argull gave a quiet, nasty laugh, grinning from ear to ear as he regarded the finely-robed witch.  "It is the protection of the Ministry that we take issue with," he said with feeling.  "Your Aurors have become a nuisance, Minister Zephyr.  The death of the Arithmancer and the disappearance of your Headmistress were both tragic incidents, but the fate of wand-bearers is no concern of ours."

He aimed a hard, menacing look at the witch before him.  With the goblins, it was clearly threat for threat; response to response.

"See to it that they remember their place, and you will have the time you seek.  But we also do not care to give...special treatment." The goblin's voice grew harder, and for an instant, Raizel's heart seemed to catch in her throat.  "The vaults of Gringotts can be a dangerous place.  If they insist on interfering in matters that do not concern them, then it will hardly be our fault if they are sent back without all of their fingers intact."

The Arithmancer...![1] Headmistress Snark...! [2]  Minister Zephyr's eyes widened markedly and her veins went cold.  The goblin didn't mean to imply...  Conniving little demon!  It was too harrowing to fully consider, that the goblins had something to do with these insidious wrong-doings.  They weren't capable. 

Auror fingers hardly glimmered in comparison, but it wasn't a threat that Minister Zephyr would tolerate.  With a long blink and a deep sigh, she looked up again with a dark expression.

"On the contrary, we will hold Gringotts responsible should anything happen to our honored Aurors while on the premises.  And with that I do believe I've heard enough."

A sneering smile flickered on her face as she straightened up.  With a practiced gesture, she took up her wand and cast a spell to open the chamber doors.

1.	Found murdered at Westminster Abbey. wiki.
2.	Inexplicably missing.  wiki.