Angry Rebuff to the Goblin

The two stepped into the clearing, and the short, stocky figure stopped his work.

He turned around, revealing typical goblin features: pointed ears, sunken eye sockets, and those somewhat unsettling yellow eyes.

"Filius?" The goblin set down his hammer, surprise flashing across his face.

"What brings you to my place?"

Professor Flitwick strode forward, a friendly smile on his face.

"Griphook, long time no see. Your craftsmanship is still superb."

Charlie carefully observed the goblin blacksmith.

Griphook's arms were muscular, his hands covered in calluses—the build of a true artisan.

But when his gaze shifted to Charlie, those yellow eyes instantly filled with wariness and hostility.

"What are you doing bringing a wizard whelp here?" Griphook's voice turned sharp.

"This place doesn't welcome wizards."

Professor Flitwick had explained to Charlie on the way that goblin-human relations were complicated.

There had been several goblin rebellions in history, with deep grudges on both sides.

He'd specifically warned Charlie not to speak out of turn and to follow the professor's lead.

Charlie had obediently nodded in agreement.

"Griphook, here's the thing." Professor Flitwick explained.

"This is my student, Charlie White. He recently acquired some troll hide and would like your help crafting a set of armor."

Griphook's expression soured further at that.

He looked Charlie up and down, disdain clear in his eyes.

"Oh, I see." Griphook sneered.

"Filius, have you fully sided with the wizards now?"

"Even stooping to fulfill some brat's request?"

Professor Flitwick's smile stiffened slightly, but he still spoke patiently.

"Griphook, we're friends, aren't we? This kid really needs that armor."

"Friends?" Griphook scoffed.

"Would a friend beg me for a human's sake? Filius, don't forget, goblin blood runs in your veins."

"But what are you doing now? Playing dog for humans, teaching them magic, making them stronger."

"So they can turn around and bully goblins!"

Griphook's words grew more caustic. He'd suffered plenty of abuse from wizards since childhood.

That's why he'd moved to this remote forest, hiding where wizards couldn't reach him.

But now Filius was asking him to work for a wizard—it felt like betrayal.

"You think those wizard students really respect you? It's all surface! Behind your back, don't they still call you half-blood freak!"

Professor Flitwick's face went pale instantly, his body trembling slightly.

Those words struck his deepest vulnerability.

During his own student days, he'd heard them all too often.

Charlie, listening nearby, was boiling with rage.

Though Professor Flitwick had warned him not to act rashly, he couldn't stand by and watch his teacher humiliated because of him.

Charlie wouldn't indulge him just because he had a sob story.

"Enough!"

Charlie stepped forward abruptly, his voice icy.

Griphook froze for a moment, not expecting this wizard brat to speak up.

"You don't want to make the armor? That's your business. No one can force you." Charlie said, word by word.

"But sneering at your own friend? No wonder goblins are so unpopular."

"What did you say, you insolent little brat!" Griphook exploded with fury.

"I'm being polite already. If the professor weren't here, I'd have cursed you out." Charlie didn't back down.

"You say the professor betrayed goblins, but he integrated into wizard society, taught students, helped wizards and goblins get along."

"What have you done?"

Charlie's voice grew colder.

"A useless coward who only lashes out at his own—what right do you have to insult the professor?"

Professor Flitwick stood frozen on the spot, a sharp sting rising in his nose.

No one knew how hard it was for him, caught between the two sides.

He had to endure both the prejudice of Wizards and the accusations of Goblins.

Charlie's words struck a chord deep in his heart.

Griphook trembled with rage, jabbing a finger at Charlie.

"Let's go, Professor." Charlie tugged at Flitwick, ready to leave.

"We'll just scrap the whole thing."

"Wait!" Professor Flitwick stopped Charlie.

He gave Charlie a long, searching look, a warm surge rising in his chest.

This child had been willing to burn bridges with the Goblins just to defend him.

Professor Flitwick made up his mind—he had to see this through for Charlie.

He walked up to Griphook and pulled an ornate little box from his robes.

Opening it, inside lay an ancient silver badge, engraved with intricate Goblin script.

Griphook's eyes went wide at the sight.

"Is that the Ancestral Badge?" Griphook's voice trembled.

"Filius, how do you have this?"

"It was left to me by my grandmother," Professor Flitwick said softly.

"If you help Charlie make the armor, this badge is yours."

The Ancestral Badge meant everything to Goblins—it was recognition of their forebears' achievements, priceless beyond measure.

Griphook stared at the badge, his expression complicated.

After a long silence, he finally spoke.

"You really want to give me the Ancestral Badge, all for some human brat?"

"Yes," Professor Flitwick said without hesitation.

"This badge is a Goblin honor. Giving it to you is returning it to its rightful owner. It's of no use to me."

Griphook fell silent again, then at last let out a sigh.

"Forget it. I'll do it." He looked at Charlie, his tone still cold.

"But I'm charging 150 Galleons for the work. I'll cover all materials except the Troll hide."

Charlie glanced at Professor Flitwick, who nodded at him, and did the math in his head.

He still had 200 Galleons at Gringotts. Spending 150 on gear that could block spells was a steal.

"Deal."

Griphook nodded, but didn't take the badge.

He pushed the box back toward Flitwick.

"Keep the badge."

Professor Flitwick was stunned.

"Griphook..."

"Enough." Griphook waved a hand.

"You're my friend. I got carried away just now—I apologize."

He lifted his chin, refusing to look at Charlie, and said gruffly.

"Kid, for Filius's sake, I'll waive the deposit."

"Get me the Troll hide as soon as you can. Come back in a month for the finished product. And then it's 150 Galleons, not a single Knut short."

Charlie's mouth twitched. Was this what they called tsundere?

Well done. You've just made me lose interest in both elves and tsunderes.

With the deal settled, Professor Flitwick said goodbye to Griphook and led Charlie away.

But neither of them noticed that before they Disapparated, a pair of dark red eyes was watching them from the shadows of the forest.