Anyway, this goblin didn't notice anything odd in the little wizard's words; he only caught Ian's denial of identity, trembling as he lifted his head, eyes full of doubt and uncertainty.
"You... are you saying you've inherited the family wealth, as well as the contract signed with my ancestors?" The Eight-Character Moustache Goblin finally managed to regain a somewhat normal tone of communication.
"What do you think?"
Ian was secretly doubting himself too, but outwardly stayed calm, tossing the question back at the goblin. Honestly, the usually shrewd goblins seemed to have lost their sharp racial instincts right now.
"We've always been following the contract!"
No need for much questioning—the Eight-Character Moustache Goblin just blurted it all out. He struggled to get up from the floor, rummaged around his body, and pulled out a shiny, slick Golden Galleon.
"Goblins are sticklers for contracts! Goblins aren't afraid of surprise inspections!"
Who knows what he's imagining now; while saying things no wizard would ever believe, he held his Golden Galleon up to the light hanging from the ceiling.
Watch this.
He showed Ian the portrait side of the Golden Galleon, where a bearded wizard in wizard robes was carved, lifelike, reflecting dazzling brilliance from the coin surface.
"Who is this person? Some big shot in the wizarding world?" At this moment, Hermione curiously leaned in; she'd wriggled free from her parents' grip, eager to satisfy her curiosity.
"I've wanted to ask this for ages, too."
Ian had always wondered about this question as well.
"It supposedly represents all wizards, but if you use one of the counterfeit-proof tricks from the Galleon…" The Eight-Character Moustache Goblin began to shake the coin rhythmically, light glinting off it from all angles.
In no time—
Something unexpected started happening. The portrait of the wizard in robes seemed to twist; under the right light, his beard gradually disappeared.
A rather handsome face suddenly became crystal clear.
"Ah?"
Ian's pupils flickered faintly.
His suspicions seemed to be getting confirmed.
Meanwhile—
Hermione, tiptoeing and stretching her neck to watch the coin change, reacted even more dramatically. Her eyes widened, her face an expression of utter disbelief.
"Oh my god! Gringotts really is yours!"
She clearly realized something.
"Uh…"
Ian gave Hermione a startled look; he'd only ever seen that face in the mirror after taking the Aging Potion, and never expected Hermione to recognize it so quickly.
"Is that your ancestor?"
Well then.
Hermione's recognition wasn't that precise after all.
Before Ian could reply—
The Eight-Character Moustache Goblin, hearing the little witch's comment, instantly went on alert.
"Gringotts belongs to us goblins! Only the portrait on the coin belongs to Supreme Mage Medivh… and his descendants!" At this point, the goblin shot a cautious glance at Ian. He obviously hadn't lost all fear, but goblin instincts made him unable to resist rebutting Hermione.
"..."
Ian felt deeply disappointed. He'd thought he'd hijacked the coin minting rights, but it turned out he'd just gotten the portrait rights. This left him a bit confused—why would his future self refuse the minting and ownership rights, but insist on the portrait rights? What good does that do?
"Maybe I really am a genius, creating something from nothing, and found some godly path that doesn't belong to this land." The little wizard could only come to the most reasonable, yet totally unreliable, conclusion. He was already contemplating whether, with his obsession for grave-digging, one day he'd dig up his own nine tombs.
In that weird Cthulhu-style novel he'd read before transmigrating, one way to become a god was like that—but Ian felt doing that in the Harry Potter world seemed ridiculous.
Just as Ian wondered if the coin could gather faith, Hermione was off on her own tangent. This Muggle girl, just stepping into the wizarding world, was endlessly curious about all things mysterious.
"Is this the mark of a wizarding world slave?" Early Hermione really had some social issues; she blurted it out, eyeing the claw mark on the goblin's forehead, recalling the random books she'd flipped through at the bookstore earlier.
"..."
The Eight-Character Moustache Goblin looked awkward.
Ian secretly gave Hermione a thumbs-up in his mind.
He'd wanted to ask that too, but his cover stopped him from opening his mouth. Who'd have thought, even without the internet, he'd find someone to speak for him.
"Don't be so rude, Hermione." The little wizard was able to play the good guy, enlightened as to why those villains always liked having henchmen.
"Sorry, I spoke out of turn."
Hermione hurriedly bowed and apologized to the goblin.
"Miss! You're definitely getting sorted into the nastiest house!" The goblin first glared indignantly at Hermione, then hurried to explain, worried Ian might misunderstand.
"We do have a batch of goblins who once signed unpaid labor contracts with Supreme Mage Medivh—but those contracts only bought our bodies for generations!"
"Those contracts did not include our souls! Nor did they include our wealth! Our coins!" Let's just say, the goblin nature was being showcased perfectly by this Eight-Character Moustache Goblin.