Entranced by the mountain of riches glittering before her, Oleandra scarcely noticed the vault door materialise again with a muffled clunk behind her. Without her stolen Diricawl gift, she might have panicked at finding herself sealed within this underground vault, but she was confident there was no magic in the world that could hold her.
"I wonder how the Greengrass vault compares," Oleandra murmured.
Oleandra swept the vault with her Mystic Sight, searching for anything that stuck out, but the mountain gleamed with such intensity that it was giving her a headache simply looking at it. There had to be an easier way of sorting through what was valuable and what was not…
"Ouch!" Oleandra hissed. "My foot!"
Hopping on one foot, she gingerly raised the other and peered at her boot; a perfect circle had been burned into the sole, searing through her sock and leaving an angry red welt on her skin… on closer inspection, she seemed to have branded herself with the imprint of a gold Galleon.
"A Flagrante Curse…" she muttered to herself. "And a Gemino Charm?"
Though Oleandra hadn't been watching her step, she was fairly certain she hadn't trodden on a pile of clinking coins. There were decidedly more Galleons scattered across the floor than before. She tugged at her collar. Was it just her imagination, or was it getting rather hot in here? She felt as though she had entered a sauna…
"If my runes were behaving, I could summon a small blizzard with Hagal and Isaz to cool off," Oleandra sighed, wiping her forehead with her sleeve. "A glass of cold water would do nicely, too…"
Feeling rather parched, Oleandra's gaze fell on the Thief's Downfall curled obediently by her feet, and as if sensing its mistress's thirst, it cowered and shuddered in fear…
"Hang on a mo'!" Oleandra exclaimed. "I can use you to sort through the fakes!"
The Thief's Downfall had the power to strip away enchantments and bewitchments, that much was true… but certainly the ever-shrewd Goblins wouldn't rely on the enchanted water to hinder thieves if it meant destroying the artefacts and treasures they were carrying back to the surface?
Perhaps the water would only temporarily dampen a magical artefact endowed with a permanent enchantment. And if not… well, either way, Oleandra would have taken something precious from the Lestranges, or destroyed it. They would lose regardless, while she lost nothing at all!
"Go!"
Oleandra snapped her fingers, and the stream coiling at her feet swelled into a broad ring of water. As they came into contact with the Thief's Downfall, the fakes vanished into nothingness… yet the law of gravity, alas, proved a cruel mistress, and would not disappear as easily as the coins and trinkets had.
With part of its foundation gone, the nearby heaps of gold began to slide towards her. With a cold snort, Oleandra sent the ring of water stretching outwards into a protective bubble around herself. Molten gold rained down upon her, yet the moment it touched the thin barrier, it burst into glittering dust that drifted about her head… until it didn't.
BONK!
"Ouch!" Oleandra yelped as something small and heavy clipped the top of her head.
Blinking back tears of pain, Oleandra bent to retrieve the object bold enough to fall on her head, of all places. It was a small, golden cup with two handles, its surface embossed with the image of a badger. Unlike the infamous honey badger, which were nasty, vicious little buggers, the badger represented on the cup was a more reserved sort, preferring to dig its tunnels in peace.
"Hufflepuff's cup!" Oleandra gasped.
Tentatively, Oleandra turned it upside-down, and water began pouring forth from the cup… and it kept going and going, vomiting out more than could possibly be contained within. The newly created water obediently went to join the rest of the Thief's Downfall, which could only mean…
"The legends are true!" Oleandra said in wonder. "The cup really can infinitely replicate any fluid that is poured into it!"
Apparently, Hufflepuff's cup trumped Avalon's lake water… and she would no longer have to worry about running out of it! Of water, juice, wine, even blood; anything that could be reduced to liquid form!
With a snap of her fingers, Oleandra sent the rest of the Thief's Downfall surging back in reverse and pouring into the cup, which drank it down greedily until not a drop remained. Just like that, she had also solved the problem of lugging about a ton of magical water that would have eaten through any enchanted vessel she tried to store it in…
Oleandra looked at the cup with a complicated expression. If Harry and his friends were right, then this cup was one of Voldemort's Horcruxes… but it was too valuable to her to simply give away for them to destroy, just to get at the soul shard inside.
Greed filled her heart.
"After all," she murmured, "why shouldn't I keep it? I was the one who found it, fair and square…"
Oleandra glanced around. The mountain of gold had shrunk considerably, no longer quite reaching the stalactites hanging from the ceiling, but it still represented a fortune. She stuffed her pouch with as many gold Galleons as it could carry, before turning to the elderly Goblin waiting for her at the entrance.
"I trust your harvest was fruitful, Madam?" he said obsequiously, rubbing his hands as she approached. "If so…"
"Obliviate," Oleandra said.
Before the Goblin could react, Oleandra struck him with a Memory Charm, and his gaze grew distant. She turned on the spot and disappeared, leaving behind a handful of blue feathers drifting where she'd stood a moment before…
…only to reappear a heartbeat later in a narrow alley a few streets from Gringotts. Her face rippled, her facial features rearranging themselves, and within seconds she had assumed Tonks's likeness.
Oleandra stepped out onto Diagon Alley, her gaze drawn to the gleaming white-and-gold building in the distance. Heliopaths were storming Gringotts's front steps, but they could advance no further, for armoured Goblins were blocking the doors leading into the bank; the Wizards' spells glanced harmlessly off the Goblins in silver plate, who struck out with their polearms to drive back any brave enough to enter their stabbing range.
Alas, this would not last.
Moments later, a Death Eater forced his way through the Heliopaths' ranks and shouted a spell. The stone steps crumbled beneath the Goblin guards' feet, and they plunged into the street below, where the waiting Heliopaths closed in at once. And with another wave of his wand, he restored the steps, allowing his men to storm the bank at last.
Oleandra shook her head and sighed.
In the end, for all their metalcraft, silverwork, and ogham runes, the Goblins were no spellcasters. Adaptability was the name of the game, and nothing proved more adaptable than wand magic. Fat lot of good it did the Goblins to forge indestructible armour and legendary blades when the poor Gobs wearing and wielding them had no solid ground left to stand on…