Charlie and Professor Flitwick first stopped by Gringotts to withdraw funds, then made their way once again to Gripp's forest cabin.
The winter woods were bleak and silent, bare branches swaying in the cold wind.
Charlie tightened his cloak, each exhale curling into white mist.
After waiting so long, he was finally about to receive the gear, and anticipation bubbled in his chest.
Flitwick noticed his excitement and smiled knowingly.
"No rush, Charlie. Gripp may be eccentric, but his craftsmanship is unmatched among goblins," Flitwick said with a fond chuckle.
"I saw a sword he made when we were young, it could rival even the Sword of Gryffindor."
Soon, the familiar wooden cottage came into view.
Flitwick stepped forward and knocked.
"Gripp, it's me, Filius."
Footsteps shuffled within, and the door creaked open.
Gripp peeked out, his face brightening upon seeing Flitwick, only to sour instantly the moment his eyes landed on Charlie.
"You're just in time. It's finished."
Charlie: o.O?
What's with the attitude? Did I eat your rations or something?
The three entered the warmly lit cabin, the fireplace pushing away the winter chill.
Gripp strode over to a corner workbench and retrieved a wrapped bundle.
"Behold my masterpiece."
He unwrapped it with pride, revealing a brown vest.
Charlie's eyes lit up.
At first glance, it looked ordinary, but closer inspection revealed intricate runes woven into the surface, glowing faintly in the firelight.
"Well?" Gripp asked, clearly pleased with himself.
"Made from genuine troll hide, blended with mithril and black iron. Then I etched in ancient goblin runes."
"It's one of my finest pieces."
"It should offer about 80% of a troll's natural magic resistance."
Charlie reached out and touched it. The vest felt sturdy, dense and weighty in the hand.
"How strong is it against spells?"
"No problem against standard adult-level spells," Gripp said confidently, thumping his chest.
"Stunners, Petrificus Totalus, Expelliarmus, those kinds of spells it can shrug off."
"But anything too advanced, like Unforgivables or spells cast by truly powerful witches and wizards, those it won't stop."
"After all, it's still troll hide."
Charlie nodded. That level of protection was already excellent.
It's not like he planned to catch spells with his chest anyway, this was insurance.
"This'll do nicely." Charlie pulled out a pouch and placed 150 Galleons on the table.
"As agreed."
Gripp began counting each coin carefully.
Charlie didn't mind waiting, it was just proper business practice.
But then,
A low, hostile voice echoed from outside.
"Our dear Gripp, consorting with wizards now, are we?"
Gripp's expression changed instantly. Several coins slipped from his hand and clattered to the floor.
"Damn it. How did they find me?"
Charlie and Flitwick exchanged sharp glances. This wasn't good.
BANG!
The wooden door was kicked open.
Eight goblins filed in.
The leader had glowing red eyes, a cruel expression, and a wicked scar slicing across the left side of his face. He looked anything but friendly.
Charlie instinctively gripped his wand. Flitwick stepped into a defensive stance.
"Bagman. I didn't invite you. What are you doing here?" Gripp growled.
The scarred goblin, Bagman, ignored him, eyes locked hungrily on the wands in Flitwick and Charlie's hands.
"Oh Gripp… a goblin blacksmith working hand-in-hand with wizards. A traitor."
"No wonder our kind is losing its way, I haven't purged any turncoats in a while."
Bagman sneered, the scar on his face writhing like a centipede.
Flitwick whispered to Charlie.
"Remember what I told you about goblins who resent wizardkind."
"After their rebellion failed, the wizards took their wands. But some still haven't given up."
"If things turn violent, I'll hold them off. You run."
He knew Charlie wasn't weak, he'd even bested a troll, but he was still just a first-year.
If anything happened to him, Flitwick wouldn't forgive himself.
Charlie nodded. This wasn't the time to argue. Whether he'd run or fight… would depend on the situation.
"Gripp, I'll give you one chance," Bagman said, licking his lips.
"Hand over the wands. I'll let you walk away."
Charlie gave Gripp a sideways glance. One wrong move, and he'd fire a Flame Charm straight through his beard.
To his relief, Gripp didn't hesitate.
"Bagman, are you mad?" he yelled.
"You'll doom the entire goblin race!"
"You want another war between goblins and wizards?!"
"War?" Bagman laughed coldly.
"Wizards already treat us like slaves. They took our wands, what do you call that, peace?"
The goblins behind him all nodded in agreement.
"Yeah! Why should they get wands and not us?"
"Our magic is just as strong!"
"It's time the wizards saw what goblins are capable of!"
Flitwick frowned, voice stern.
"Bagman, you're inciting racial violence."
"Shut your mouth!" Bagman snarled, eyes burning with hate.
"You wizards think you can preach to me?"
"I'll kill you both myself. And offer your flesh to honor the fallen."
He grinned savagely.
"Especially the little one. Tender meat, my favorite."
"Enough!" Gripp bellowed.
"Bagman! I won't let you bring your madness into my home!"
Bagman's smirk vanished.
"So, Gripp… you've chosen their side."
"Then don't blame me for what comes next."
He raised his hand, and all eight goblins drew stolen wands.
Eight red beams shot out simultaneously, the air buzzing violently with magic.
Though goblin magic differed from wizard magic, with a wand in hand, their destructive power was undeniable.
Flitwick's eyes sharpened.
Goblins weren't supposed to have wands, which meant at least eight witches or wizards had likely fallen to these rogues.
Flitwick raised his wand.
"Protego Maxima!"
A transparent shield burst forth, the red beams clashing against it and exploding in a shower of sparks.
"Gripp! Get Charlie out of here!" he shouted, wand slicing through the air.
The ground beneath the attackers turned to soft muck. Stone slabs liquefied into mud, slowing them instantly.
Bagman cursed as he tried to wrench his feet free.
Flitwick seized the opportunity.
"Expelliarmus!"
A red streak shot toward Bagman. The goblin hastily summoned a shield to block it.
"That's all you've got? Then you're dead," Bagman sneered.
Flitwick knew full well the danger of being outnumbered, this needed to end quickly.
He inhaled deeply, wand tracing an intricate arc in the air.
"Apparate!"
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