The moment they stepped into the clearing, the stocky figure halted his work.
He turned around, revealing all the classic features of a goblin, pointed ears, sunken eye sockets, and a pair of eerie yellow eyes that seemed to glow with hostility.
"Filius?" The goblin set down his hammer, surprise flashing across his face.
"What brings you to a place like this?"
Professor Flitwick approached with quick, cheerful steps, a warm smile on his face.
"Gripp, it's been a long time. Your craftsmanship is still as brilliant as ever."
Charlie observed the goblin blacksmith carefully.
Gripp's arms were muscular, his hands calloused, every inch of him screamed craftsman.
But when those yellow eyes shifted toward Charlie, they immediately brimmed with suspicion and hostility.
"What are you doing bringing a wizard whelp here?" Gripp's voice turned sharp.
"Wizards aren't welcome here."
Professor Flitwick had already warned Charlie during the journey: the relationship between goblins and humans was complicated.
There had been several goblin rebellions throughout history, leaving deep resentment on both sides.
He'd especially reminded Charlie not to speak recklessly and to let the professor do all the talking.
Charlie had obediently agreed.
"It's like this, Gripp," Flitwick began to explain patiently.
"This is my student, Charlie White. He recently acquired some troll hide and would like your help crafting a set of armor."
Gripp's expression darkened.
He gave Charlie a once-over, disdain written all over his face.
"Oh, I see," Gripp sneered coldly.
"Filius, have you completely taken the wizards' side now?"
"You're even willing to stoop to fulfilling some brat's request?"
The smile on Flitwick's face stiffened, but he still answered gently.
"Gripp, we're friends, aren't we? And this child truly does need the armor."
"Friends?" Gripp scoffed.
"Would a friend beg me on behalf of a human? Don't forget, Filius, goblin blood runs in your veins."
"And look at you now, playing servant to humans, teaching them magic, helping them grow stronger…"
"So they can trample goblins in return!"
His words turned increasingly vicious. Gripp had endured humiliation at the hands of wizards since childhood.
That's why he'd retreated to this secluded forest, to stay far from the reach of wizardkind.
And now Flitwick was asking him to aid one? It felt like betrayal.
"You think those wizard students really respect you? They put on a show for you, but behind your back they still call you a half-breed freak!"
Flitwick's face went pale. His body trembled slightly.
Those words struck deep, piercing the most fragile part of his heart.
Back in his school days, he'd heard them more times than he could count.
Charlie stood by, seething.
Though Flitwick had warned him not to act impulsively, watching his beloved professor insulted for his sake was something he couldn't tolerate.
Charlie wasn't about to excuse Gripp just because he'd had a rough past.
He stepped forward, voice cold as steel.
Gripp was momentarily stunned, he hadn't expected the young wizard to speak.
"You don't want to make the armor? Fine. That's your choice. No one's forcing you," Charlie said, pronouncing each word clearly and firmly.
"But to mock your own friend like that? No wonder goblins are so disliked."
"What did you say, you insolent brat?!" Gripp roared.
"I've been polite. If the professor weren't here, I would've let you have it already," Charlie shot back, unflinching.
"You call him a traitor, but he's the one bridging our worlds, teaching wizards, helping build peace between humans and goblins."
"And what about you?"
Charlie's voice grew even colder.
"A coward who lashes out at his own kind, what right do you have to insult him?"
Professor Flitwick froze, a tightness rising to his nose, eyes stinging.
No one truly understood how hard it was to live between two worlds.
He bore wizard prejudice on one side, goblin scorn on the other.
And Charlie's words… they struck straight to the heart.
Gripp trembled with rage, pointing at Charlie furiously.
"Let's go, Professor." Charlie grabbed Flitwick's sleeve and turned to leave.
"Forget the armor."
"Wait," Flitwick stopped him.
He looked at Charlie deeply, a warmth blooming in his chest.
This child had just gone head-to-head with a goblin for his sake.
Flitwick made up his mind, he would see this through for Charlie.
He stepped toward Gripp and retrieved a small, ornate box from his robes.
Opening it revealed a silver badge engraved with intricate goblin script, ancient, noble, revered.
Gripp's eyes widened instantly.
"An Ancestral Crest?" his voice trembled.
"Filius, how… how do you have this?"
"It was passed down to me by my grandmother," Flitwick said softly.
"If you help Charlie make the armor, the crest is yours."
The Ancestral Crest was no ordinary trinket. To goblins, it was a symbol of heritage and honor, priceless beyond gold.
Gripp stared at it, his expression conflicted.
He was silent for a long time before he finally spoke.
"You'd really give this up for some wizard brat?"
"Yes," Flitwick replied without hesitation.
"This crest represents goblin pride. Giving it back to you would be returning it to its rightful place. With me, it has no real value."
Gripp fell silent again, then let out a long sigh.
"Fine. I'll do it." He looked at Charlie, voice still cold.
"But the labor's 150 Galleons. I'll handle the rest of the materials."
Charlie glanced at Flitwick, who gave him a small nod.
He began calculating silently. He still had 200 Galleons at Gringotts. Spending 150 for a piece of gear that could block spells? Totally worth it.
Gripp nodded slightly, but didn't take the crest.
Instead, he gently pushed the box back toward Flitwick.
"Keep it," he muttered.
Flitwick was caught off guard.
"Gripp…"
"Don't," Gripp cut him off with a wave of his hand.
"You're my friend. I lost my temper earlier, and I apologize."
He lifted his head but avoided Charlie's gaze, speaking brusquely.
"Brat, for Filius's sake, I won't ask for a deposit."
"Bring the troll hide as soon as possible. Come back in a month for the finished piece. And don't even think about shorting me a single Knut from that 150."
Charlie's mouth twitched. Was this… tsundere behavior?
Brilliant. Now I've officially lost interest in both goblins and tsunderes.
With the matter settled, Professor Flitwick bid farewell to Gripp and led Charlie away.
Neither of them noticed that, just before they Disapparated, a pair of dark red eyes watched them silently from the shadows of the forest.
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35 Advanced Chaptes on p(a)treon
p(a)treon.com/Aaltairr
200 P.S = 1 Extra Chapters