Why do I feel this way? Is there danger here? Or perhaps a powerful wizard constantly monitoring this place? Dudley pondered, his instincts on high alert.
Having survived in a perilous world for so long, caution was second nature to him. Even if this sensation was faint and possibly a misunderstanding, he couldn't dismiss it. This vigilance had kept him alive and propelled him to a High Sequence in that other world.
Gringotts is the safest bank in the wizarding world, so it must have robust security measures. It's likely that powerful wizards are always watching, Dudley reasoned, affirming the possibility in his mind.
But where's this sense of being spied on coming from? And that trace of evil, mad aura—what's its source? He activated his Spirit Vision, carefully scanning the surroundings, but found nothing unusual. Only faint traces of magic lingered, likely Gringotts' protective enchantments.
Unfortunately, I'm unfamiliar with this place, and the Arbitrator's abilities are limited here, Dudley thought, frustration creeping in. His Judge Sequence could detect evil and madness, but only in familiar environments where he could fully leverage his powers. Detecting that faint malevolent aura in such an alien setting was a testament to his former High-Sequence prowess. A true Sequence Nine Arbitrator would likely have missed it entirely.
"I heard there's a dragon guarding the underground vaults here," Harry said, noticing Dudley's furrowed brow, a hint of pride in his voice. "Hagrid told me earlier."
"A dragon?" Dudley asked, surprised.
"Yeah, they say Gringotts' high-security vaults are protected by dragons," Harry explained eagerly.
"Is that so?" Dudley nodded, his expression thoughtful. Dragons were undoubtedly extraordinary creatures, their nature neither inherently good nor evil. Without knowing more about dragons in the wizarding world, he couldn't rule out the possibility that the evil aura stemmed from one.
No matter what, I'll stay cautious today. I haven't felt like this in ages, Dudley resolved. He reached into his jacket's inner pocket, his fingers brushing the metallic surface of Trensorst's bronze book. Knowing he'd be shopping for first-year supplies, he'd brought it along as a precaution. Prudence, he knew, was never misplaced.
The mine cart raced onward, but Dudley's interest in the passing stalactites or the twisting route had waned. He no longer bothered to memorize the path, his focus consumed by the lingering unease.
After countless turns, the cart finally slowed, having descended what felt like dozens of kilometers beneath London. Griphook disembarked and led them to the entrance of an underground vault.
Hagrid, his face tinged green from the jarring ride, handed a key to Griphook, looking as though he might be sick. Griphook unlocked the vault door.
A thick green mist billowed out, dissipating to reveal a chamber piled high with gold, silver, and bronze coins. Harry stared, dumbstruck, at the glittering hoard.
"All this is yours," Hagrid said to Harry, swallowing hard to suppress his nausea.
Dudley, too, was stunned by the vault's contents. He'd suspected Harry's parents had left him an inheritance, but this wealth was staggering. This isn't middle-class money, he thought. As Rosser the Great would say, this is tycoon-level riches.
Just as Dudley opened his mouth to comment, a chill ran down his spine. The sensation of being watched intensified, and the evil, mad aura surged, far stronger than before.
He whipped his head around, eyes locking onto a stalactite dozens of meters away, shrouded in darkness. Nothing was visible, but the overwhelming unease demanded his attention.
Without hesitation, Dudley activated his Spirit Vision. Spiritual energy sharpened his gaze, illuminating the surroundings. A faint aura flickered, and a blurred silhouette began to take shape.
Someone's there! Dudley's eyes narrowed. He was certain a wizard was lurking behind the stalactite.
Before he could examine further, the faint halo vanished, as if it had never existed. The sense of being spied on and the malevolent aura faded, becoming nearly imperceptible.
What's going on? Dudley thought, startled. He hadn't imagined it—someone had been there, only to disappear abruptly. Was it magic?
"You alright?" Griphook asked, noticing Dudley's tension and glancing toward the darkened stalactite.
"Nothing," Dudley replied, shaking his head. The aura was gone, and he wasn't sure if the figure was a Gringotts employee. Speaking up would be futile; no one would take a child's claim seriously.
"Right, let's head to Vault 713," Hagrid said, leading Harry out after collecting a pouch of gold coins.
"Blimey, we should've come this morning," Hagrid muttered. "My fault for oversleeping. Hope it doesn't mess up Professor Dumbledore's plans."
"It's just a few hours late. It'll be fine," Harry said, trying to reassure him.
"I hope so," Hagrid replied, unconvinced.
The group climbed back into the mine cart, which sped deeper into Gringotts' labyrinthine tunnels. Dudley remained silent, his senses heightened, alert to every sound and shadow. Even if Gringotts was deemed the safest bank in the wizarding world, he knew absolute safety was a myth. In places touted as impregnable, a single breach could spell catastrophe.
Rather than trusting the wizarding world's assurances, Dudley relied on his own instincts.
Soon, the cart slowed to a stop before a vault marked with the number 713. This was the top-secret task Hagrid was handling for Hogwarts. Once complete, they could return to the surface.
"Stay back," Hagrid warned Harry. "Only goblins can open this door. Anyone else who tries gets sucked in."
Dudley noted the absence of a keyhole on Vault 713's door. Griphook stepped forward, his withered finger tracing a slow path down the metal surface.
In that moment, the evil, mad aura surged back, sharp and undeniable.
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