The Goblin's Attack, Professor Flitwick Unleashes His Power

Charlie and Professor Flitwick first went to Gringotts to withdraw the money, then made their way back to Griphook's forest cabin.

The winter forest felt especially bleak, bare branches swaying in the cold wind.

Charlie wrapped his cloak tighter, his breath forming white mist in the air.

After waiting so long for the gear to be finished, Charlie felt a flicker of anticipation.

Flitwick saw his expression and smiled knowingly.

"Don't rush, Charlie. Griphook may have a peculiar temper, but his craftsmanship is among the finest of all goblins," Professor Flitwick said with a chuckle.

"When I was younger, I saw weapons he forged. I daresay they rival the Sword of Gryffindor."

Soon, the familiar wooden house came into view.

Professor Flitwick stepped up and knocked.

"Griphook, it's me, Flitwick."

Footsteps sounded from inside, and the door creaked open.

Griphook poked his head out, breaking into a smile when he saw Flitwick.

But when his gaze landed on Charlie, the smile vanished instantly.

"Hmph!"

"You're just in time. The item's finished."

Charlie: o.O?

Did I eat your rice or something? Why the sour face?

The three entered the cabin, where the warm hearth drove away the winter chill.

Griphook walked to the workbench in the corner and picked up a bundle.

"Take a look at my masterpiece."

Full of confidence, he unwrapped the bundle, revealing a brown vest.

Charlie's eyes lit up.

The vest looked ordinary at first glance, but a closer inspection revealed fine runes etched across its surface, glinting in the firelight.

"Well?"

Griphook said smugly.

"I used troll hide as the main material, mixed with mithril, dark gold, and other components, then inscribed ancient goblin runes."

"This is definitely one of my finest works."

"Its magic resistance is about eighty percent of a troll's."

Charlie reached out and touched the vest. It felt thick and sturdy, with a fair bit of weight.

"What level of spells can it block?"

"Standard spells from an adult wizard are no problem," Griphook assured, thumping his chest.

"Stunners, Petrifying Spells, Disarming Charms—all of those it can handle."

"But if the caster's too powerful, or if it's a Dark Magic like the Killing Curse, it won't hold."

"After all, it's just troll hide."

Charlie nodded. That level of capability was already impressive.

It wasn't like he'd be using the vest to tank spells head-on; it was just a last line of defense.

"That's enough." Charlie pulled 150 Galleons from his pouch.

"As agreed."

Griphook took the coins and inspected them one by one.

Charlie didn't rush him, letting him check at his leisure—it was standard business practice.

Just then, a low voice came from outside.

"So our Griphook is rubbing shoulders with wizards now."

Griphook's face went pale in an instant, and a few of the gold coins slipped from his hand to the floor.

"Damn it, how did they find this place?"

Charlie and Professor Flitwick exchanged glances, both sensing trouble.

The wooden door was shoved open roughly, and eight goblins filed in.

The one in front had bloodshot eyes, a twisted face, and a scar running down his left cheek—clearly no good sort.

Charlie instinctively gripped his wand, and Professor Flitwick also assumed a defensive stance.

"Bagman, I didn't invite you. What do you want?"

Griphook glared at the newcomers.

The goblin called Bagman ignored Griphook's accusation, instead staring greedily at the wands in Charlie and Professor Flitwick's hands.

"Oh, Griphook, I never thought our blacksmith would betray the goblin race and cooperate with wizards."

"It seems I haven't cleansed the traitors in too long, and that's given you ideas."

Bagman let out a vicious grin, the scar on his face writhing like a centipede.

Professor Flitwick spoke quietly to Charlie:

"Charlie, remember the goblins I told you about who hate wizards?"

"After they lost the war, wizards took their wands, but they still haven't given up."

"If a fight breaks out, I'll hold them off for you. You just run."

Even though Flitwick knew Charlie was no weakling—strong enough to take down a troll—he was still just a First Year wizard.

If Charlie got hurt, Professor Flitwick would never forgive himself.

Charlie nodded. This was clearly no time for modesty. Whether to run or fight would depend on the situation.

"Griphook, I'll give you a chance." Bagman licked his lips.

"Hand over these two wizards' wands, and I'll spare you."

Charlie glanced sideways at Griphook. If the goblin made any wrong move, he'd hit him with a Flame Charm without hesitation.

To his relief, Griphook had no intention of betraying them.

"Bagman, have you lost your mind?" Griphook roared in fury.

"This will bring disaster to the goblin race!"

"Do you want to start another war between goblins and wizards?"

"Disaster?" Bagman sneered.

"Right now, wizards treat us like slaves and steal our wands. Isn't that a disaster?"

The goblins behind him nodded in agreement.

"Exactly, why can wizards have wands and we can't?"

"Our magic is no weaker than theirs."

"It's time to show wizards what goblins can do!"

Professor Flitwick frowned.

"Bagman, you're provoking a racial conflict."

"Shut up!" Bagman glared viciously at Professor Flitwick.

"What right do you wizards have to lecture me?"

"I'll kill you with my own hands and use your flesh to honor my kin."

Bagman licked his lips.

"Especially the little one—tenderest meat, best eating."

"Enough!" Griphook bellowed.

"Bagman, I won't allow you to run wild on my turf!"

Bagman's smile vanished.

"Griphook, it seems you're dead set on siding with wizards."

"Then don't blame me for forgetting our kinship."

He waved his hand, and the goblins behind him drew their wands.

Bagman and his crew aimed together. Eight red beams shot out at once, the air humming with a piercing screech.

Though goblin magic differed from wizards', the common factor was that a wand amplified their power enormously.

These curses were clearly no joke.

Professor Flitwick's eyes sharpened. All goblins had had their wands confiscated, so the source of these eight wands was obvious—at least eight wizards had been killed.

Professor Flitwick flicked his wand:

"Protego!"

A transparent shield unfolded instantly before him. The red beams slammed into it, bursting into dazzling sparks.

"Griphook, get Charlie out of here!"

Professor Flitwick shouted, waving his wand in rapid succession.

The ground softened. The stone slabs beneath Bagman and his crew turned into quicksand, trapping their movements.

"Damn it!"

Bagman cursed, struggling to pull his foot free from the mire.

Professor Flitwick seized the opportunity to strike:

"Expelliarmus!"

A beam of red light shot straight at Bagman, who hastily summoned a light shield to block.

"Is that all you've got? Then prepare to die."

Bagman grinned savagely.

Professor Flitwick knew well the danger of being outnumbered—he had to end this quickly.

He took a deep breath, his Wand tracing a complex arc through the air.

"Apparition!"