0495 Conditions & Assumptions

Bryan having seemingly exhausted his list of revelations, gracefully lifted his delicate porcelain teacup once more. He leaned back into the plush embrace of his chair, and took a long, contented sip of the exquisite brew quietly waiting for Gerson Barnah to accept the deal.

'What could be so valuable that the renowned Bryan Watson would personally travel to Paris to negotiate this business?'

The old goblin's gaze lowered, his rheumy eyes fixating on the exquisite pastries laid out before him like jewels on a goldsmith's workbench.

An oppressive silence fell upon the room, broken only by the soft ticking of an antique clock and the barely audible breathing of its occupants.

It was impossible for Barnah to quell the burning curiosity that gnawed at his insides like acid. Yet, with the wisdom born of centuries of high-stakes negotiations, he recognized the futility of pressing the issue. Bryan Watson's demeanor made it crystal clear that he had no intention of divulging any further information.

"Mr. Watson—"

After what seemed an eternity, the old goblin finally raised his head.

"We find ourselves with no compelling reason to refuse this most intriguing proposition. The profits generated from the Triwizard Tournament broadcast will be distributed precisely as you have outlined. As for the matter of your personal remuneration..."

Here, Barnah paused, his long fingers steepled before him in a gesture of deep contemplation.

"If my memory serves me correctly – and I assure you, Mr. Watson, that despite my advanced years, it rarely fails me – we have a workshop in the heart of Diagon Alley. Its current function is the production of broomstick maintenance kits, a respectable if somewhat mundane enterprise. Beginning at first light tomorrow, this establishment will dedicate its efforts solely to the completion of existing orders, steadfastly refusing any new commissions. The machinery along with our skilled workforce, the factory buildings, and the land upon which it stands – all will be transferred into your capable hands with the utmost haste. However—"

Bryan raised an eyebrow slightly, waiting silently for Barnah to state his conditions.

"While the exact nature of your intentions for this alchemy workshop remains a mystery to us," Barnah continued, his voice taking on a note of calculated speculation, "I cannot help but surmise that its purpose is linked to the production of yet another of your groundbreaking inventions. Am I correct in this assumption, Mr. Watson?"

"You want to be involved in the workshop's future endeavors?"

Bryan's lips curled into a smile.

"This, despite being wholly ignorant of the nature of the business, unable to ascertain whether it will yield bountiful profits or catastrophic losses? Such a proposition seems wildly at odds with the goblins' notorious penchant for risk aversion, Mr. Barnah."

"You yourself are our greatest assurance, Mr. Watson—"

The old goblin chuckled in his aged voice.

"While the acquisition of a workshop is undoubtedly a crucial first step, we both know it's just a single piece in a far more complex puzzle. The realization of your vision will require substantial capital, a meticulously crafted supply chain for raw materials, and robust channels for product promotion and distribution. Such endeavors, I need hardly to remind you, would consume a lot of your valuable time and energy – resources that could be better applied to matters more befitting a wizard of your stature."

Barnah leaned forward, his voice dropping to a whisper. "These logistical challenges, Mr. Watson, happen to be exactly what we excel at. Our expertise in these matters is unparalleled. By allowing us to participate in the future management of the workshop, we can alleviate many of your potential headaches. And in return for this service, what we ask is quite modest—"

A strange light flashed in the old goblin's eyes.

"We will not interfere with the workshop's management decisions – that, I give you my solemn word as a goblin of standing. Our sole requirement is one-tenth of the workshop's annual profits."

The saying "wisdom comes with age" couldn't be more apt.

This old goblin, Gerson Barnah, was willing to risk a substantial sum of Galleons, all for the chance to establish a lasting business relationship with Bryan.

"Your proposal is... intriguing," Bryan said after a moment of contemplation. "I'll arrange for my friend, Remus Lupin, to liaise with you on the specifics of this arrangement. He's a werewolf; I trust you'll find a way to work harmoniously together."

The old goblin, who had been on the verge of rejoicing at Bryan's apparent acceptance, found his thoughts suddenly derailed by this unexpected piece of information.

Bryan Watson, who just two years prior had been an unknown young wizard in the magical world, had in an astonishingly brief span of time become a household name across several continents. In the European wizarding community especially, he had ascended to a status that rivaled, if not surpassed, that of Albus Dumbledore himself. Given his significant age advantage and the awe-inspiring display of power he had unleashed on the night of the Quidditch World Cup final, many were convinced that the next half-century – perhaps even longer – would be the era of Bryan Watson in the European magical world.

And now, this same wizard was casually mentioning a friendship with a werewolf.

While werewolves might find some acceptance in the Americas, their status in Europe was far less favorable. They were universally loathed by official wizarding organizations in every country, treated as little more than dangerous beasts in human form.

If Albus Dumbledore had made such a claim, Barnah might not have been quite so taken aback. Dumbledore was well-known for his eccentric views and his advocating of the downtrodden. But Bryan Watson? The very foundation of his meteoric rise to fame had been the elimination of the notorious werewolf leader Greyback and his bloodthirsty pack.

Goblins and werewolves, while both considered outcasts by the wizarding elite, occupied very different steps on the social ladder. Through their legendary cunning and financial acumen, goblins had managed to carve out a niche for themselves in the Wizarding world, becoming indispensable if not entirely trusted. Werewolves, by stark contrast, faced a far bleaker reality, enduring levels of exclusion and prejudice that made even the goblins' lot seem enviable by comparison.

The fact that Bryan Watson showed no hesitation, no shame in openly declaring his friendship with a werewolf... it spoke volumes.

To Barnah, it was a clear indication of Watson's character, his willingness to look beyond societal prejudices and judge individuals on their own merits. This revelation, more than any business deal or magical feat, dramatically increased the old goblin's enthusiasm and confidence in the possibility of forging a genuine friendship with Bryan Watson.

"Any friend of Mr. Watson's is, without question, a friend of the goblin nation," Barnah said, his smile finally reaching his eyes, imbuing it with a warmth that had been absent throughout their negotiations. "I will personally assign Ragnok to oversee this matter. I have the utmost confidence in his ability to work harmoniously with Mr. Lupin."

The prejudice between goblins and wizards was, of course, a two-way street. Given the wizarding world's disdain for werewolves, it was only natural that goblins wouldn't hold them in particularly high regard either. Yet Ragnok, newly tasked with this sensitive assignment, dared not voice even a whisper of dissatisfaction. He bowed deeply to both Master Barnah and Mr. Watson, his one remaining arm pressed tightly to his chest in a gesture of utmost respect and dedication.

With the thorny issues of negotiation finally laid to rest, the oppressive atmosphere that had hung over the office like a storm cloud began to dissipate. Both parties, each harboring their own hidden agendas and future aspirations, found themselves able to relax at last. The exquisite spread of food, which had until now served as simple set dressing for their high-stakes discussion, finally received the attention it deserved.

As Ragnok moved to refill their delicate teacups, the fine bone china clinking softly, Bryan seized upon the moment to broach a seemingly innocent topic.

"Ah, there's one other matter I've been meaning to inquire about," Bryan began, his tone casual. "During my travels through various magical civilizations a few years back – following the Ancient tradition of newly graduated wizards, you understand – I came across a rather interesting piece of information. It relates to the fate of the wealth left behind by wizards who meet an untimely end without leaving an heir. I heard that in such cases, Gringotts would give up control of these unclaimed vaults to the Ministry of Magic. Is there any truth to this, I wonder?"

Barnah who had been savoring a crumb of traditional goblin cuisine with evident relish, involuntarily trembled, causing some food crumbs to fall on the expensive velvet tablecloth.

"What you describe is indeed in wizarding law, Mr. Watson," Gathering himself, Barnah nodded slowly.

"It's a regulation agreed upon by both the goblin nation and the wizards. I can assure you that Gringotts branches across the globe adhere rigorously to this regulation."

"And yet," Bryan smiled noncommittally. "I've heard whispers of... alternative methods of handling such delicate matters. Might there be any substance to these rumors, I wonder?"

Not only Gerson Barnah but even Ragnok and Laddie, who had been dutifully attending to their master, felt the weight of Bryan's implication settle upon them.

In truth, the practice Bryan referred to was not as covert as one might expect. Among the upper echelons of goblin society, those who occupied positions of power similar to themselves were well aware of the actual procedures employed by branch employees in such cases.

The reality was far from the neat and tidy process outlined in official documents. Instead, a complex web of collusion had been woven between certain Gringotts employees and their counterparts in various Ministries of Magic. Together, they would systematically take valuable items from the vaults of the heirless dead – priceless antiques, rare magical tomes, stocks in both magical and Muggle companies, deeds to properties in prime locations.

These ill-gotten gains would then be hedged through local black markets, the proceeds laundered through a complex series of transactions before being divided among the conspirators, along with whatever gold and Galleons had been stored in the original vaults.

This was no small-time operation, but an intricate and far-reaching chain of interest that implicated mid to high-level personnel from Ministries of Magic and Gringotts branches across multiple countries.

For Bryan Watson to raise this issue now, in such a nonchalant manner. It was clear to all present that he had no interest in joining this nefarious enterprise – such methods would be far beneath the dignity of a wizard of his stature.

"I won't insult your intelligence by denying it, Mr. Watson," Barnah replied, matching Bryan's casual tone with practiced ease. "Regarding the situation you've described, I concede that there may indeed be some instances of... shall we say, irregular operations."

Bryan clicked his tongue, his face a masterpiece of feigned disappointment. "How utterly disheartening," he lamented, shaking his head slowly. "If only those Ministry officials could channel even a fraction of the energy they expend on lining their own pockets into their actual duties, perhaps they wouldn't find themselves constantly criticized by the public for their gross incompetence."

With that pointed observation, the topic was summarily concluded. The remainder of the breakfast was linked to more pleasant subjects – discussions of magical theory, the finer points of goblin craftsmanship, and even a bit of good-natured speculation about the upcoming Triwizard Tournament.

As the meeting drew to a close, Bryan rose from his seat. In a burst of brilliant flame, Fawkes appeared in a shower of golden sparks.

With a final nod to his hosts, Bryan grasped one of Fawkes' tail feathers. In the blink of an eye, the wizard and phoenix vanished in a dazzling conflagration, leaving behind only the lingering scent of cinnamon and woodsmoke.

For several moments after Bryan's departure, Ragnok and Laddie remained rooted to the spot, their eyes wide with wonder as they stared at the place where the legendary Phoenix Fawkes had materialized. But their reverie was short-lived, as the moment Bryan's silhouette had dissipated into the air, a dark cloud seemed to appear upon Gerson Barnah's face.

"Ragnok," the old goblin growled, in a sharp tone,."you are to depart for our British branch immediately. First, conduct a thorough investigation into the matter Mr. Watson so casually mentioned. I want a comprehensive list of every goblin and Ministry employee implicated in this... unsavory business. Second, compile detailed records of the wealth they have misappropriated."

Barnah's eyes narrowed, conveying the gravity of the situation. "Prepare two copies of your findings. One is to be delivered directly to me, the other sent to Bryan Watson himself. Time is of the essence, Ragnok. This must be done with all possible haste."

For a moment, surprise flickered across Ragnok's face. He had always prided himself on his unflinching obedience to orders, but the nature of this task gave him pause.

"Master Barnah," he said cautiously, "are we truly prepared to expose the British Ministry of Magic in this manner? The repercussions... we stand to make many enemies."

"Bryan Watson considers this matter to be of great importance," Barnah said with a grave expression. "Perhaps... perhaps this was the true purpose behind his visit today."

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