HP: A Magical Journey

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“What would prompt you to bring this up?”

Quinn stared at the old goblin, who looked at him with beady eyes, a guarded posture, and the paper slip clinched tightly in his long nails.

“So you’re aware of the Horcrux,” said Quinn. “That’s a good indication.”

“No, it is not. Even the mention of this vile magic is an omen of misfortune and giving an invitation to ill-fate,” said Bogrod, barring his teeth.

“Oh, come on, it’s not that bad.”

Bogrod crushed the slip in his hand and pounded the fist on the table, “It is not ‘not that bad,’ boy. For you to talk about the vile magic like it is nothing serious can only mean that you don’t know about it!”

“I do know about it, Mr. Bogrod,” said Quinn, intertwining his finger over his thighs. “Horcrux. . . the magic through which a magical severs a part of their soul through the act of cold-blooded murder and hide that part of the soul in an object outside the body, thus tethering the main soul to the plane of living even if the mortal coil is destroyed, thus achieving immortality or at least a type of immortality.” Bogrod looked at Quinn with stunned eyes. “So, Mr. Bogrod, I do know what a Horcrux is and why it’s considered to be one of the vilest of magic in existence.”

Bogrod didn’t move an inch of his muscle, his gaze intently observing the human child in front of him. What he had thought would be a glorious day of bringing a historical part of their culture was now turning into something else. He was sure that after years when he looked back to this day, this talk would come to his mind before the memory of obtaining a thousand-year-old piece of their legacy.

“. . . I ask again, boy. Why have you brought this up?”

“Goblins, the race on this Earth that holds paramount knowledge on curses and curse-breaking. Even if your race has solidified their place as those with gold, when in need of curse-breaking, anyone with an iota of knowledge and sense would turn to goblins.”

If it was another time, Bogrod would puff his chest and turn his nose up.

“A Horcrux at its core is an enchanted object,” Quinn continued but omitted the part that a Horcrux could be a living being as well, “meaning that with sufficient knowledge, it could be broken, so I ask of you, goblin, does your kind have a way to break a Horcrux?”

Rowena Ravenclaw’s Diadem and Helga Hufflepuff’s Cup — two priceless artifacts created by the Hogwarts Founders, and while their creator didn’t interest Quinn, he was thoroughly interested in the fact that both the artifacts were rumoured to have magical properties — he didn’t know the nature of those magical properties, and wished to know. Alas, they were both tainted by Voldemort’s soul, and before Quinn could even desire to study them, he needed to remove the soul fragments without destroying them.

And that’s why here he was asking a goblin he was meeting for the first time about a topic that attracted the feeling of wariness and unease. But it couldn’t be helped; he had tried to find a method on his own — scoured both the Hogwarts Library and Room of Requirements, but nowhere could he find a method that didn’t involve the destruction of the soul’s vessel.

Bogrod didn’t answer immediately, instead observed Quinn, searching where this question was coming from — why did the human child want to know about the obscure magic, where had he learned of its existence, did he wish to create a Horcr—

“I do not wish to create a Horcrux, goblin,” said Quinn, startling Bogrod. “Don’t look surprised; it’s written all over your face. Moreover, I respect the sanctity of my soul to split it and keep it outside of my body.” Just the thought of splitting his soul brought disgust up Quinn’s throat — it was the only thing he had brought with him to this world, the sole possession that truly belonged to him.

“How do I believe you?” asked Bogrod.

“There’s no need to believe me,” said Quinn. “If I was wished to create a Horcrux, then I wouldn’t have asked you, a high-ranking goblin, while sitting on goblin soil, inside Gringotts, with multiple people aware of our meeting. No. I would’ve found a goblin who knew about Horcrux, met him in secret, and after gaining the information, killed him to ensure my secret forever remained a secret.

Now, Mr. Bogrod, tell me, does the goblin kind knows a method to destroy a Horcrux?”

Bogrod and Quinn stared at each other at a length before the former sighed, “No, we don’t have a method to destroy a Horcrux. We have tried to look for a method, but we were never able to find how to rid an object of the soul. The godforsaken magic uses the ethereal soul to protect earthly objects.”

Quinn showed no change in expression, but internally he sighed with disappointment. “I see,” he said, “it’s unfortunate then; I hoped that I could’ve learned something new today, but it seems that won’t be the case.”

Bogrod stared at Quinn with disbelief. This was why he asked for Horcrux, just so that he could learn something new? If he wanted to learn something new, then look for well-known, respectable magic; why Horcrux.

Quinn stood up from his place as he had nothing more to discuss or accomplish today. “Thank you for answering my question, Mr, Bogrod. For your time and hospitality, I would like to extend my thanks towards you,” he reached into his suit breast pocket and took out three more coin cases.

Bogrod inhaled sharply at the sight of the coin cases.

“This is my gift to you.” Quinn set down the three cases on the table and opened them to reveal an old galleon, sickle, and knut. “It’s up to you what you wish to do with these — you can turn them to Gringotts, or you can keep them for yourself. If you decide to turn them to Gringotts, justify it was as a sign of goodwill from a West, and if you decide to treat yourself, I will never speak of these coins ever again.”

Bogrod looked away from the coins up towards Quinn. He knew what that meant; whatever was discussed between the two was not to be disclosed. The gift of coins was just something to ensure that silence.

“It was a pleasure meeting you, Bogrod,” said Quinn, smiling. “I hope that when another opportunity like this strikes our door, we will again be able to do some business.”

After all, there was something else that he wanted from the goblins; it just wasn’t the right time to get it, but when the correct did come, he would come back and get it.

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– (Scene Break) –

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“Have you packed your clothes?”

“Yes, I have properly packed my clothes, and didn’t you have Polly double-check? What’s the use of asking me?”

Ms. Rosey narrowed her eyes, “No matter if someone checked or not, in the end, it’s your responsibility to check your work.”

“Yes, ma’am,” said Quinn.

“Hmm. . . do you have the gold secured?”

Quinn lifted his briefcase, “All of it in here.”

“What about the gold for your use?”

“I have plenty in my pockets.”

She nodded, satisfied. Her Quinn had grown up now, so this much was enough.

Elliot entered the hallway with the main door to the West Mansion. “It seems you’re ready,” he said and raised a small lapel pin. “I have the portkey ready.”

Quinn nodded before turning to Ms. Rosey and hugging her. “I’ll be back in a couple days. Hold down the fort for me.” Ms. Rosey snorted as she hugged Quinn back.

“Good stuff,” said Quinn, ending the hug. He turned to Elliot, “Let’s go.”

The two exited the mansion and began their walk towards the estate gates.

“This brings back memories,” said Quinn. “Whenever I leave the country, you always walk me out.”

Elliot chuckled, “That seems to be the case. I hope that will remain the case.”

“Sounds like a good tradition to me.”

“So, anything special you wish to do in Switzerland?”

Quinn shook his head, “No, I wish to return to as soon as my work done is there. I’m in the middle of a project, and leaving on vacation with the project in progress doesn’t fit right with me.”

“A project?”

“Yes, I’m working on this year’s QWASPP. I’m almost finished, but there are a few kinks that I straighten and a few runes to fix — it’s on a crucial stage, so I’ll be returning to complete it.”

“Oh my, may I know what is the product this time?” ρꪖꪕᦔꪖꪕꪫꪣꫀ​ꪶ​

“Nope~,” Quinn smiled and wagged his finger. “It’s a surprise. You’ll know when I show it on the day of the reveal.”

“A little hint?”

“Hmm. . . what I’m going to present already exists; I’m just putting my twist on it. I have been slowly working on it for a few years; it was just the last year that the project picked up the pace.”

They reached the wrought gates, Quinn waved his hand, and the iron gates groaned open.

“This is it,” said Elliot and stepped closer to Quinn to pin the lapel pin on Quinn’s suit. “You’ll be received by one of our employees in charge of our vaults and money in Switzerland.”

“He must be a high-ranking person in the business,” said Quinn, thinking of a Chief Financial Officer.

“She,” said Elliot, “the person you’ll be meeting is a woman.”

“Ah, is that so. My apologies for assuming their gender. What’s their name?”

“Helena Berenberg,” said Elliot.

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– (Scene Break) –

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The rainbow colors drained, and the world returned to normality as the Portkey dropped Quinn in its intended position. He looked around his surroundings and saw himself in a room with grey, bricked walls, not having seen a single coat of paint in their lives. His eyes quirked seeing MLEs lighting the closed room, making him happy — his invention had truly become international.

The sound of clearing of a throat caught his attention, and he turned to see a woman with dark brown hair dressed in posh embroidered wizarding with a brooch on her chest. She looked to be about in her mid-forties, which meant she was at least eighty years old, but that was the best guess Quinn could make. Beside her were two men, looking to be a bit younger than her, and similarly to her, were dressed in posh robes.

“Hello,” Quinn walked towards them and asked the woman in the middle, “are you Helena Berenberg?”

The woman nodded, “I’m indeed Helena Berenberg, and you’re Quinn West.”

“That I am,” said Quinn, grabbing Helena’s offered hand and kissing it.

“Welcome to Switzerland,” she said before pointing at her two associates, “there are my second-in-commands here — Gossler and Seyler.”

Quinn nodded to both the men and shook their hands.

“Where are we?” Quinn asked, looking at the room. “Why was the Portkey planned to arrive at this place?”

Helena smiled, “This is actually one of the basement rooms our headquarters designated to be an arriving point for Portkeys. As for the reason for its darb appearance is to make the sheer difference more impactful.”

“What do you mean?” he asked, tilting his head.

“It’d be better if you see it,” said Helena, motioning to the room’s exit with a set of stairs going up.

And so they went up, and after going through a hallway, they entered the main building, and Quinn understood what Helena was talking about. Quinn had seen many buildings with stunning interior aesthetics, but the West Headquarters in Switzerland was easily one of the most captivating buildings he had seen.

High ceiling supported by columns that led up to crowned ceilings with golden designs beautifying every corner of the ceiling and even the walls which were lined with statues and sculptures, luxurious grand chandeliers stocked with MLEs lighting up the beautiful lobby. Beneath his feet was a beautifully patterned marble flooring, and the entire lobby was lavishly furnished.

But his eyes attracted to the thing of water in the middle of the room — if it could even be called that. It was a large shimmering sphere of water, as clear as a diamond, floating over a pond built into the floor and inside that water sphere, swam glowing fishes.

Quinn squinted his eyes at the water sphere; he noticed something peculiar with it. He moved closer to it and saw that the fishes weren’t actually fishes, but just glowing colored water charmed to take the shape of fishes. He watched as a red fish and a blue fish to each other — they met each other and turned into one bigger purple fish. The fishes on the rainbow spectrum would merge and split to turn into colorful fishes.

“Wow,” he said before turning to Helena, “you all really are finance people, aren’t you?”

His words elicited a peal of laughter from Helena, Gossler, and Seyler. Basel, Switzerland, was where a large portion of West wealth that was was spread around the globe — it had been a big stash which had been turned bigger when George transferred the Britain capital to Switzerland, giving it a substantial increase, which led to the construction of this headquarters that handled and managed a considerable amount of wealth. It was a monument solely built to showcase West’s wealth.

Helena’s eyes caught someone, and she called the person, “Alexia, please come here.”

Quinn turned to see a tall blonde young woman with hazel eyes dressed in a pleated blouse-jacket over a white shirt above a long skirt, and topping the outfit was a shoulder cape.

Helena put a hand on Alexia’s shoulder as she introduced her, “This is Alexia Piaget, and she’ll be there for your every need during your stay here.”

Alexia gave a short bow and smiled pleasantly, “Please feel free to tell me anything you want, and I’ll arrange it for you.”

Quinn nodded but kept staring at Alexia. “Have we met somewhere,” he asked, “because I’m sure I have seen you somewhere, but I can’t put my finger on it.”

“No, we haven’t met,” said Alexia, but there was a smile on her face, “but there’s a chance that you might have seen me. I’ll give you a hint — Beauxbatons.”

Quinn’s mind raced and immediately went to the Beauxbatons delegation that came to Hogwarts for the Tri-wizard tournament, but no, Alexia Piaget wasn’t there. But then Quinn recalled that Alexia had said they hadn’t met, and it clicked for Quinn as a memory surfaced in his mind.

“I remember now,” he said, “I have seen you in one of Lia’s photobooks, yes-yes, you studied in Beauxbatons with my sister, didn’t you?”

“Yes, your sister and I are friends,” said Alexia. “She talked a lot about you know. Our friend groups feel like we know you, or you when you were a child.”

Quinn groaned, “What did she say?” His sister had dotted excessively when he was little, and while that was nice and all, he could guess what she said to her friends.

“Well, to start with, there were a lot of stories.”

Quinn groaned more. Like not liking the photos from your past, Quinn, too, didn’t enjoy discussing his childhood. Looking back at it now, him acting like a child was cringing to him now.

“There were a lot of cute photos on her nightstand, which would change every time she would come back from home,” Alexia said, enjoying herself, and even Helena and the other two were having fun.

“That damn sister of mine,” said Quinn, feeling deep embarrassment. He looked at Alexia, “I hope you’re a good friend of Lia and wouldn’t mind divulging her school-days stories. I’m going to need a lot of ammunition if I’m to make her feel as I’m doing right now.”

Alexia’s smile grew broader, “We would need a lot more time if you want to listen to all of them.”

“Ms. Paiget, I’m looking towards our time together.”

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Quinn West – MC – Embarrassed of his dark past.

Bogrod – Goblin Higher-up – Chose to turn in the coins to leverage for an increase in status.

Alexia Paiget – Lia’s friend – The West siblings are interesting.

FictionOnlyReader – Author – I hate the “Goblins Being The Answer To Everything” trope!

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