A/N: AU Fleur POV time!
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After a long moment, Harry huffs and shakes his head with a smile, the Elder Wand humming approvingly in his palm as he makes his decision.
"Very well then. Let's go see what coin my blood entitles me to this time around."
With that, both he and Death disappear from the shore of the Black Lake in a flicker of shadow, no one in the sleeping castle behind them any the wiser.
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Fleur Delacour hated her life. Or rather, more specifically, she hated her current circumstances.
"Intern Five-Nine-Seven. You will come with me. There is a customer who I believe will be set at ease by the presence of a creature such as yourself."
Inwardly, Fleur grimaces. Outwardly, she paints a false smile on her face and nods her head with an enthusiasm she doesn't feel.
"Of course, Banker Rotgut. Lead the way!"
It should never have been like this. She was only ever supposed to be an intern with Gringotts for one summer, a sort of transitionary period where she would work for them and better her English in the process. Then, at the end of the summer, she and her boyfriend at the time, William 'Bill' Weasley, were set to become engaged to be wed, and the internship would end.
Unfortunately, that wasn't how things had worked out. And thanks to the truly draconian laws of both the Wizarding World and the Gringotts Bank, Fleur had been stuck in this internship for years now. See, the contract was very clear.
So long as Bill Weasley was present for her direct superior at Gringotts to 'pass her off to' when the end of the summer came, everything would go according to plan. However, if Bill didn't show up, Gringotts would immediately secure Fleur's services as an "intern" for the next ten years.
It was completely ass-backwards of course and had made her distinctly uncomfortable even back then, but there hadn't been any helping it at the time. That was just the way things were done at Gringotts and in Wizarding Britain. But it shouldn't have mattered. Bill was as committed to her as she was to him.
Besides, he had a strong relationship with Gringotts as one of their Contracted Cursebreakers, which was how Fleur got turned onto the internship idea in the first place. There should have been no reason for the goblins to betray Bill, certainly not for little ole her.
… And as far as Fleur knew, they hadn't betrayed him. Rather, no one could actually say for sure HOW Bill died. No more than anyone could say how most of the wizards on the British Isles had died in the past decade. Indeed, the British Wizarding World was currently facing quite the crisis at the moment.
Wizards had been dropping dead left and right for years and years now. It'd been about eight years ago when it all began. But in the end, in her case at least, it didn't really matter how it was happening, other than that the Ministry of Magic had been able to at least clear the goblins of any nefarious plots or wrongdoing. What mattered was that Bill Weasley was dead. As was his father and all of his brothers.
Perhaps part of it was Fleur's fault. She had, after all, been the one to call on Bill to come home on his mother's behalf. His father was dead and there was a chance Bill would be too busy with work to attend, so Molly had asked Fleur to send him a letter to make sure he showed up.
Despite the 'danger' of Bill's work as a Cursebreaker, it wasn't breaking into the tombs of Ancient Egyptian Wizards that had done him in, in the end. Instead, it was returning to the British Isles and falling prey to the same thing killing off all of the other wizards. One by one, they were dropping like flies…
Perhaps Fleur should have argued for some other caveat to the contract. But she didn't. And unfortunately, the only other person who could 'claim her' from Gringotts if Bill failed to show up was her father. One of those draconian backwards laws again. And Fleur's father had been dead for over a decade, longer even than the current inexplicable tragedy rocking the British Isles.
Her mother Apolline had tried her best to get Fleur free of course, but Gringotts wouldn't budge. And so Fleur was stuck here, not even able to process the grief over Bill's passing as the goblins worked her to the bone day in and day out, month after month, year after year.
Her only saving grace was that her beauty, which would have led to many a wizard in this position taking advantage of her, was considered ugly by goblin standards. Banker Rotgut had never touched her in any inappropriate way. Frankly, she wasn't sure if goblins even had sexual urges…
Also… she was close to being free as well. Ten years. That was how long Gringotts got to keep her since Bill died before he could come and 'claim her'. And it had already been seven now. Every day, Fleur got closer to freedom. Closer to getting to go home to France at long last.
Of course, while Banker Rotgut didn't take advantage of her himself, that didn't mean he was above using her looks to his advantage in other ways. And so Fleur follows the goblin banker out of her small cubicle and down what feels like half a dozen corridors, before finally arriving to find half a dozen goblin guards waiting to escort a black-robed figure down into the bank's depths.
Fleur does her best to keep her surprise off of her face at the sight of so many armored goblins though. This was… what was Rotgut planning, exactly?
Before she can think on it too hard however, the figure suddenly turns in her direction and though she cannot see his face beneath the hood…
"Hm. Fleur Delacour. Intriguing."
Ah, what? Fleur blinks, even as Rotgut throws her a suspicious look.
"You know this wizard?"
"I… I couldn't say, sir. I don't think so?"
At the same time, the wizard scoffs.
"We've never met. I am merely aware of Ms. Delacour's… pedigree."
That sarcastic drawl has Fleur flushing a fair bit as she tries to get a closer look at the wizard. She actually hasn't seen a living wizard come to Gringotts in years now.
Her work at the goblin bank keeps her from being entirely up to date, but the last she'd heard, most wizards had fallen to the strange circumstances that were killing off one gender within the British Isles. And nobody was any closer to solving the mystery either. So then… who was this? Someone from out of the country who would die the same as her Bill if he wasn't warned, perhaps?
Meanwhile, Rotgut looks between them both for a long moment, still suspicious of a possible connection. But finally he just scowls and shakes his head.
"We at Gringotts hoped to help smooth this process by bringing along one of our more… effective interns. Is she to your liking, Lord Potter-Black? If not, I can send her away."
Lord Potter-Black?! Fleur can't stop her eyes from widening now. How was that possible?! Those Houses… they were effectively defunct at this point!
"She's fine. Let's get going."
Their new Lord seemed to be a man of few words though unfortunately, because he doesn't give any of them anything more than that. Banker Rotgut grumbles but nods as they all, including the guards, pile into one of Gringotts' larger mine carts.
Fleur isn't sure what's going on here, but she can feel her skin beginning to get goosebumps as they travel deep underground into the bank's underbelly. But then, they would have to… after all, the Potter and Black Houses are Ancient, Noble Houses in the British Wizarding World. There also isn't supposed to be a male claimant left alive for either of them, as far as Fleur knows.
In fact, there aren't male claimants left alive for most of the Magical Houses in Great Britain. It's a complete mess at this point from what Fleur had heard, with widows all over the place and witches in general being forced to try to keep things together.
And she knows Gringotts isn't making things easier either. Because the Wizarding World, especially the British one, is so patriarchal, all of the laws of inheritance and the like tend to favor wizards over witches.
As a result, in the event that a Wizard Lord dies without a proper male heir, Gringotts has been… locking vaults, effectively declaring that they would hold onto them until a proper male blood heir could be found. Even in the case that there would BE no proper male blood heir ever again.
The situation wasn't entirely hopeless yet as far as Fleur knew. Any widows who had been given access to their vaults by their lord husbands before their deaths… still had that access. However, anyone else was shit out of luck. And more and more people were being locked out of their vaults these days.
The goblins could dress it up as nicely as they liked, but Fleur knew the truth firsthand. They were using the Wizarding World's own laws against them in order to hoard as much wealth as possible. It was just how goblins operated.
Only, when it came to House Potter and House Black, they seemed to have missed someone…
Eventually, the party arrive at some of the oldest vaults. Fleur actually hasn't ever been down here before, but she can't really take any enjoyment in the new experience. Not when it feels like the tension in the dank, musky air is rising by the moment. Fleur can only shift from foot to foot as Rotgut leads the robed wizard to a particularly ancient but also highly magical door and gestures to it.
"Place the tip of your wand in the center of the vault door. If you truly are the proper Lord Black, it will open for you."
Fleur half-expects the wizard to ask what happens if it doesn't. She can tell from long experience with her superior that he's expecting it as well. Rotgut practically deflates when the cloaked man instead just wordlessly does as he's told, pulling out a wand made of elder wood that sets Fleur's nerves on edge just looking at it. The goblins all take a step back as well, as if they can feel the metaphysical weight behind the wand too.
Ignoring all of them, the wizard steps forward and places the tip of the wand in the vault door. A moment later and the whole vault begins to shimmer… before the door peels back, revealing a massive interior that stretches back further than Fleur's eyes can see.
More than that, what she CAN see sends her head spinning. The Delacour Family is easily one of the more well-to-do families in Wizarding France. But there's still more gold, treasure, and magical artifacts in the Black Family Vault than Fleur ever would have thought possible.
Rotgut, meanwhile, suddenly looks anticipatory… only to scowl when the robed wizard suddenly pulls his wand back and the vault closes at his unspoken command, locking away all that wealth once more.
"Well, that's one down."
Looking like he's bitten something particular sour, the goblin just grumbles as he forces a smile onto his ugly face.
"Mm. Yes, yes… right this way."
As he begins to lead the wizard towards the Potter Vault as well, Fleur notices her superior giving hand signals behind his back out of the customer's view. Not to her, she's just an intern and not allowed to know goblin secrets. No, those hand signals are very clearly for the contingent of six goblin guards who all tighten their grips on their weapons and look ready for business.
Surely not… right? Except, the more Fleur thinks about it, the more obvious a move it seems. Of course Rotgut is going to try something. Why wouldn't he? But if she tried to warn the customer, she would be just as screwed as he was.
She can't say a word, not if she wants to keep her head. It would seem whatever has been killing British Wizards for almost a decade now isn't going to get a chance to kill this one. The goblins are going to get to him first.
They reach the Potter Vault and this time the robed figure places the wand in the center without any prompting. The vault cycles open again, showing less wealth then the Black Vault but still nothing shabby. Which is when Rotgut snaps his fingers and the numerous goblin guards all level their weapons at the customer.
"You will keep this vault door open, wizard. And you will return with us to reopen the Black Vault as well. If you refuse, you will die."
Turning around, the robed figure looks at them all in silence for a moment. However, when he speaks… he sounds amused.
"Oh? Has Gringotts taken to ambushing their clients in bad faith now? For shame Banker Rotgut. For shame."
Rotgut grinds his teeth, before smiling a poisonous smile.
"You are no client of ours, wizard. And there is no record of a living claimant to the Potter or Black Fortunes anywhere to be found. I know not how you managed to fool our security measures, but you will have plenty of time to explain it to me when we're torturing your secrets out of you. Now-!"
Rotgut snaps his fingers again and the goblin guards begin to move forward to restrain the wizard. Fleur stays stock still off to the side, lest anyone remember she's there. That proves to be a smart move, because Rotgut is mid-sentence while also commanding his guards when the robed wizard suddenly moves.
"I have not circumvented any of your bank's vaunted security measures, Banker. Until now."
With an almost contemptuous flick of his elder wood wand, the robed figure casts a spell so powerful Fleur can feel it in her bones. This deep in Gringotts, Wizarding Magic is supposed to be so heavily restricted that beyond opening vault doors, they shouldn't even be able to use their wands.
… But that doesn't seem to matter to the confirmed Lord Potter-Black. His magic blasts right through those restrictions like they weren't even there and pastes all six goblin guards in a single instant, leaving them as crumpled, enchanted runic goblin armor suits filled with meat, viscera, and gore.
Fleur manages to hold in her scream by clapping her hands over her mouth, but it's a near thing even as a completely intact Banker Rotgut stares at his dead kin in shock and surprise before voicing what might have been the most honest thing that Fleur had ever heard come from the goblin's mouth.
"Well… shit."
And in that moment, Fleur Delacour finds herself actually in agreement with her hated superior.
Well shit indeed.
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The Vote:
[X] Stick with Fleur's POV - 74%
[ ] Switch to Harry's POV - 26%
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A/N: If you're looking for more stories from me, I have a huge backlog of content on other websites such as QQ, HF, AO3, and SH, including anywhere between 10-20 million words of fiction spread out across anywhere from 400-1500+ stories written over the past 10 years.