Bilair and Belinda exchanged a quick glance.
Confusion flickered briefly in their eyes, but they didn't question anything.bIn their minds, their master was capable of anything.
Everything unfolded smoothly.
After returning from Azkaban, the three went back to the wizarding world.
Karmit returned to the manor and immediately locked himself inside the study, diving back into magic research.
Karmit lived by a simple principle: learning never ends.
He was already powerful—far beyond what any twelve-year-old should be. But he knew there was still much room to grow.
His age meant endless potential, and many of the spells he had learned were far from being pushed to their limits.
Time slipped by quickly as he studied.
Soon, three days had passed.
Late one night, Diagon Alley lay silent.
All the shops were dark. Only a few streetlamps flickered with dim, sickly light.
In the shadows, Karmit stood with Bilair and Belinda.
Gringotts sat only a dozen meters away.
It wasn't long before Belinda whispered, "Master, he's coming."
Karmit looked up.
A lone figure darted through the darkness toward Gringotts—fast, silent, and strangely unnoticed by the goblin wards.
The goblins inside didn't react at all.
The intruder slipped into the bank without resistance.
Bilair and Belinda stared, stunned.
Their master had told them someone would attack Gringotts tonight. They hadn't expected it to be true.
Karmit smiled. "Get ready. It'll be our turn soon."
Both subordinates nodded nervously.
They tightened their grips on their wands.
Killing was nothing new for either of them. But breaking into Gringotts…
That was different.
No ordinary criminal would dare attempt such a thing. Goblins may have been oppressed for centuries, but as magical creatures, they were naturally gifted.
Born with wandless and wordless magic that many wizards could only hope to learn.
If ancient wizards hadn't been so brutally ruthless, the wizarding world might be ruled by goblins instead of humans.
And, ironically, some of those ancient wizards were Karmit's own ancestors.
The boy gazed calmly at the grand white building. He chose tonight for one reason:
Someone else would take the blame.
He had people watching Diagon Alley. The moment Quirinus Quirrell appeared, Karmit was notified.
Yes—that Quirrell.
The future Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, currently serving as host to Voldemort.
Karmit knew Quirrell would attack Gringotts under Voldemort's orders to steal the Philosopher's Stone.
He simply had to wait for the opportunity.
About twenty minutes passed.
Suddenly, Gringotts erupted with alarm bells and shouting.
Moments later, a figure burst out of the bank, sprinting into the night. Goblins chased after him, roaring orders.
Karmit said, "Good. Most of their guards are outside. Let's go. Anyone gets in our way—kill them. Don't waste time."
Biliaux and Belinda nodded, murderous intent flashing in their eyes.
Karmit did not hide his presence.
The three marched straight to the main entrance.
A few goblins rushed toward them.
"Identify yourselves!"
Belinda and Bilair didn't bother answering.
Two flashes of green light shot forward.
The goblins dropped dead instantly.
More goblins cried out in alarm. "That intruder had accomplices! Attack!"
Karmit glanced at his two followers. "Hold them off."
They nodded, unleashing a barrage of curses.
Karmit strode deeper into Gringotts, ignoring the chaos. Spells hurled at him from all directions— but every one fizzled harmlessly against a shimmering barrier.
His Shield Charm was no ordinary Shield Charm.
Karmit had spent countless days perfecting it.
He walked without slowing.vBehind him, Bilair and Belinda prevented any goblin from reaching him.
Down the twisting passageway, he reached Bellatrix's vault.
The chained dragon guarding the vault stirred, scales scraping against metal.
Its single red eye glared.
Karmit shook his head. "Oppressed creatures oppressing other creatures. Goblins really know how to imitate wizards."
He walked straight to the massive vault door. He had already mapped the place.
He raised the Elder Wand replica.
°Reducto°
A crimson blast erupted, smashing the vault door into smoking fragments.
Karmit didn't enter immediately.
Instead, he cast another spell.
°Finite°
He knew Bellatrix had layered protections on her vault. Not just the Confundus Curse from the original story—Bellatrix would certainly have added her own traps.
He had no intention of being buried alive under multiplying treasure.
When the last curse dissolved, he stepped inside, lifted a bottomless bag and began sweeping everything into it.
Bellatrix was a Black.
Her wealth was, technically, Black family wealth.
Meaning it was his.
If anyone disagreed, they were free to discuss it with his wand.
Outside, the goblin strike team that had chased Quirrell suddenly received distress calls from within the bank.
They froze.
"He had accomplices! We've been tricked—back to the bank! The vaults must be protected. If anything is stolen, the Ministry will use it as an excuse to wipe us out again!"
The goblins cursed and sprinted back toward Gringotts.
From a distant alley, Quirrell collapsed behind a crate, gasping for breath.
His duel with the goblins had nearly drained Voldemort's already weakened host body.
He clutched the back of his turban, feeling the Dark Lord's frail presence pulsing angrily.
"So close… I almost died," Quirrell wheezed.
He had no idea someone else had saved him— unintentionally or otherwise.
If he knew, he would have thanked them a hundred times over.
But for now, he just trembled in the darkness, trapped with a parasite he no longer had the strength to resist.
__________
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