Snoins
“Oh! Perfect. You’re already here . . . Hermione?” Harry’s greeting trailed off. His gaze darted between her and Malfoy as they wobbled on the steps of Gringotts, left wrists chained together.
A bright red handprint glowed on Malfoy’s pale face. His naturally unruffled appearance askew: tie a mess, hair pulled in all directions. Hermione looked as though she’d been Bombarded: hair in a wrathful puff, jumper stretched out at the neck. And both of them tinseled in pumpkin innards.
Malfoy twisted and dragged Hermione in a circle as he made a show of inspecting Harry’s security wards. Harry’s eyebrows rose, glasses slipped almost off his nose.
Hermione scoffed in irritation, twisting back to look at Harry. “Where you expecting me, Harry?” She smiled with false lightness.
“Err, yes.” Harry frowned. “But, it can wait, if you need to . . . detach yourselves first?”
Hermione took several deep breaths, free hand brushing wild curls from her sweaty forehead. “I would, Harry, if someone would return my wand.”
“You’re scary enough without a wand, Granger.” Malfoy rubbed gingerly at his flushed cheek.
“Is this the rhyme then?” Hermione dragged Malfoy back up the steps hoping he’d trip and determined to pretend the blight of a wizard didn’t exist. Carved deep into the stone steps was a long, sprawling poem that continued into the street, the words corded off by wards.
“Er, yes.” Harry’s gaze bounced between their cuffs and slapped faces.
“Right then, rather direct for a riddle isn’t it?” Hermione dragged Malfoy up and down the bank steps reading the taunting lines until Malfoy dug his heels in and refused to keep following.
“That’s because it’s not a riddle, it’s a spell,” Malfoy drawled. Flicking their wands and transfiguring his monogrammed handkerchief into an icepack to nurse his face.
Harry nodded slowly. “Could be. Spells have to be specific though. Even this seems pretty wiggly as spells go.”
“Not if it's a trigger to a spell already set in place,” Malfoy countered.
“Yes, that could work,” Hermione agreed reluctantly.
“Anyway, Potter, this isn’t the only problem. Hermione here—”
“I’m supposed to remind you that Ron and Daphne can’t entertain all of Hogwarts in a pumpkin field forever,” Hermione interrupted hurriedly.
Harry nodded brow furrowed. “What did you think, Malfoy? Is it safe to send them back to Hogwarts?”
Hermione pinched her lips in surprise as Harry deferred to Malfoy. When exactly had they gotten all chummy?
“If the healers say so. The children don’t seem to be the main targets of the spell, just a convenient catalyst.” Malfoy shrugged. “Have some healers observe them out at Hogwarts to be safe.” Now he took a turn yanking Hermione about as he needlessly paced up and down the stairs.
Harry nodded unhappily. “I’ll have Bill relieve Ron. . . Alright, Malfoy, is there a reason you want to keep Hermione stuck to you? I need her to take a look at the Snoins.”
“The what?” Hermione perked up.
“Snitch coins.” Malfoy rolled his eyes. “Bill’s doing.”
“I see.” She didn’t, of course.
At another uncertain look from Harry, Draco found he no longer cared for the entertainment that being dragged and dragging about Granger supplied. Yanking his wrist up, and ignoring the poisonous glower from Granger, Draco studied Daphne’s little spell. Easy enough fix. And neither Granger nor he need injure their brains summoning up an authentic apology.
With a flick of his wand and several muttered counter-spells the manacles sprang apart.
“Finally!” Hermione rubbed her wrist and held out her hand expectantly.
Malfoy ignored her raised hand and tossed the cuffs at Potter. “Give these back to Weasley, will you?” he drawled. “And tell him to stop being a spineless wanker just because his girlfriend wants to get her thrills.”
Harry made a face, nearly dropping the cuffs.
Hermione cleared her throat.
Malfoy turned back to her expectant hand. “You get this back when you tell Harry about your stalker.” He glowered shaking their wands just out of reach.
Hermione measured the distance to her wand, and Draco watched intrigued and half hopeful that she might start jumping.
“Stalker?” Harry’s posture stiffened, an angry firmness transforming his normally tousled appearance into something dangerous.
Hermione rolled her eyes. “I don’t have a stalker.” She briefly updated Harry on the scavenger hunt, leaving out all the pesky details like drinking with Theo, floundering on brooms, and arguing with ghosts.
“And the Jack-O’-Lantern attack?” Malfoy cut in.
“Completely harmless,” Hermione laughed. “It just had an allergic reaction to Malfoy—Which, honestly, who doesn’t?”
“It left you, specifically you, riddles?” Harry asked, not at all disinterested as Hermione had hoped. “And this dark magic book, you think it’s important, Malfoy?”
Hermione felt slightly crazed. Since when was everyone so chummy with Malfoy? She knew she’d been busy this last year but she hadn’t been in another country.
“Why don’t you show him, Hermione, since you won’t let anyone else near the book.” Malfoy gestured to her.
“Maybe inside.” Harry cast a razor-sharp glance around the alley.
Inside Gringotts, a drafty wind tunnel had formed. Most of the windows were shattered, and piles of floating glass hovered in the air as witches and wizards cataloged the damages. Goblins guarded the entry, and there were no friendly faces among them.
Nets spanned the ceiling, filled with the hum and clink of coins. Hard-working wings droned above their heads. The swarm shifted and searched restless for escape. A cluster of Aurors and Gringotts Curse-breakers conversed and pointed at the ceiling. Among them, Hermione grinned to see a familiar face.
“Hermione!” Bill shouted at their approach and wrapped her in a brotherly hug.
“Just what we needed, an expert in the field.” Bill held aloft a bird cage, filled with fluttering coins.
“I’m not an expert!” Hermione protested.
“No,” Malfoy agreed heartily, “but you are a Ministry employee, in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.”
“So?” Hermione looked at Malfoy annoyed.
“So,” Harry hastily interjected, “you could sign off in our report whether or not you believe these function under the jurisdiction of magical creatures.”
“Of course they don’t . . . Probably.” Hermione frowned worriedly. “I’ll do some research to be sure.”
“Research, Granger? It’s just spelled money,” Draco exclaimed. “Or are you starting a campaign for Chocolate Frogs too?”
“Wouldn’t be Hermione if she wasn’t advocating for Snoins!” Bill wiggled a finger inside the cage, and a Galleon landed on his fingertip.
“They are just coins, Hermione.” Harry winced.
“Yes, but there are protocols for this sort of thing.” Hermione waved a hand. “I can’t just decide because it’s more convenient for all of you. But yes, obviously they are, most likely, just coins.”
“If Bill and I break down the spells used, would that be enough to satisfy the exclusion of research, Granger?” Malfoy asked, raising one aristocratic brow.
Bill nodded thoughtfully. “We’ll need to do that anyway.”
Malfoy loomed at her again. “Or shall I just tell the goblins that the Ministry will be confiscating a fortune in Galleons to set free on a preservation?” He dripped with disdain.
Hermione glowered back. “It would be more expedient. I’m not sure why you didn’t start with a deconstruction analysis in the first place.” She rounded on Harry. “Really, you shouldn’t even have thought up the idea that Snoins might have been born and not just enchanted.” Hermione paused, flustered. “Not that you absolutely shouldn’t have if they are alive. But generally, they would have to be able to reproduce. I’m just saying it’s better to eliminate the need for my department’s involvement if time constraints are a concern. Though I’m very proud of you for considering the Snoin’s welfare, of course I am.”
“There is no such thing as welfare for a non-living object, Granger.” Malfoy scowled at Bill and his pet cage.
“Well of course, probably not,” Hermione half agreed.
Malfoy studied Hermione thoughtfully and it unnerved her. She hated being unnerved. And she didn’t need it from a Malfoy. She worried her lip glancing at the bird cage.
“Frankly, Harry, you don’t want to get a case this important involved in all the red tape that comes with protective laws for new species. Unless of course, it is a new species.”
“Which it isn’t!” Malfoy protested.
“Be cool if it were though.” Bill cooed at the coins inside.
“Why did you even think it necessary?” Hermione asked, head whirling with the massive ramifications that could result from having all the wizarding world’s monetary system become a protected entity overnight. Because if some coins had come to life, who was to say all coins couldn’t? It was ludicrously unlikely, but it also wouldn’t be the first time a wizard’s experimentation had resulted in the creation of a new animal or plant.
“Protocol,” Harry said glumly. “This is a big case, my biggest, actually. I’m trying to go by the book. Your Department has so many subsections and clauses when it comes to goblins, the Snoins seem like the lesser headache.
“But forget the Snoins for a moment,” Harry continued. “We also need someone from your department to represent goblin interests. And seeing as you’re already here?” Harry looked at her hopefully.
Hermione rubbed her forehead. She already had so much work to do, she barely knew where to stack it all in her schedule. She couldn’t exactly use Theo’s groundhog artifact for this. As for their other project . . .
“I’m not exactly an expert on goblins Harry. I don’t even speak Gobbledegook. Not fluently.”
“All you need to do is be present for interviews. Convey any problems the goblins want addressed back to me. There isn’t any legal action involved, yet, and if there is, of course, we could bring in someone else to help out,” Harry added hurriedly.
Hermione wavered and broached her next question tentatively. “Shouldn’t someone more important be working this case?”
“What? Someone more important than the Golden Trio?” Malfoy drawled.
“Yes,” Hermione replied distractedly. “Seeing as it involves all of our bank accounts.”
Harry shrugged at her. “You know how it goes Hermione. Even in the wizarding world, it’s the interns and first years who work the Holiday shifts.”
Hermione worried her bottom lip.
Harry brought out the big, green eyes. “It’s just, there’s no one I trust more, Hermione. It would be a relief to have you on as a consultant.”
He looked so hopeful it almost broke Hermione’s heart. And it would be so nice to work together again. To get out from behind her stuffy little desk in that closet of an office when she wasn’t Portkeying all over the world to survey one magical creature or another.
“Yes, yes of course I will,” Hermione found herself saying. She clasped Harry’s arm in familiar reassurance.
“Brilliant!” Bill shook her hand next. “It will be a pleasure seeing you around more, Hermione. I’d best get back to see what we can do about containing this lot.” He pointed at the swarm overhead. “Cheers!”
“I suppose you’ll need me to sit in on interviews tonight then?” Hermione tried not to sound exhausted. Her drunken buzz long gone, a general stale weariness settled into her bones.
“Shouldn’t take too long.” Harry nodded eagerly. “I’ll just send an owl to let Madge know you’ll be working.”
Magdalena “Madge” Orfila had been promoted to the head of the department on Percy’s departure. She had no political ambitions, and Percy’s vacant organized office had become a mess of sentient plants. Sometimes there was more dirt than wood showing on the floors. Hermione and Madge got along too well—so well that Hermione often thought Madge forgot she could assign anyone else travel assignments and house calls. So there was no hope at all that Harry’s request would be turned down—even though Hermione wasn’t in the division of goblin law.
Hermione watched the older Weasley brother take his cage back off to the loitering wizards and worriedly considered just how long this case might last.
****
Three hours later, Hermione found herself sitting in a back common room of the bank on a very tiny goblin sofa surrounded by even smaller goblin chairs.
Malfoy draped the couch opposite her, studying a picture of the defaced stairs out front, and glancing between it and the scrolls from Hermione’s scavenger hunt.
After an unbearable stretch of time, in which Hermione felt ready to nod off, her irritation got the better of her and she addressed Malfoy first.
“You really think they are connected?”
His gaze lifted to meet hers, distant with thought.
“I mean, it seems unlikely,” Hermione added tiredly.
“Same style, same wit, same animation of inanimate objects,” he replied dryly, “I’m not discounting it.”
Hermione dragged the picture closer, reading it through again.
Trick-or-Treat?
A Snitch to snatch?
Or cold coin for a snack?
Make us sick, or make us sweet.
A feat, a flight?
Golden wings in the night!
Galleons’ a’gleam!
Sickles and Knuts join the parade,
What a grand escapade!
Wizarding wealth, taken by stealth.
Fun and fame and blame,
your own fairy light touch.
Chase your Galleons, your Sickles, your Knuts!
Take to your broom, sad doom,
the rich heavy with gloom!
For those who need more,
I say,
Fund the poor!
“It’s like a taunt,” she mused. “Feels personal. Whoever this is, it sounds like a protest on wealth disparity.”
“Obviously,” he replied snidely.
She ignored him. “The good news is, it’s doubtful the children are in intensional danger. Wouldn’t further the cause much to harm a bunch of kids.”
“No,” he scowled.
“So, how did they do it?” she asked, truly curious.
“From the look of the vaults affected? Over a long period of time. Probably a spell based on touch targeting pure-bloods.” He pointed to the rhyme.
“Pure-bloods?”
“Old families, old money.” Malfoy shrugged. “Whoever it is, they like their jokes. They mixed complex, original castings with children’s spells. Sticking charms that could be picked up by hand anywhere and carried into Gringotts on the coins themselves. Combine that with a variant on the Gemino and Flagrante curse—modified to spread instead of duplicate—grow wings instead of overheating. Not to mention this sort of spell would have to be tied to the bank itself not to also empty anyone’s pocketbook within hearing. And then a triggering charm which needed a chorus of power to activate.”
“That’s—”
“Bloody brilliant? Yes.” Malfoy squeezed the bridge of his nose. “It would also take time to enact.”
“You’re rather good at your job, aren’t you?” Hermione found herself saying.
Malfoy’s brow quirked. “Yes, Granger, I rather think I am.”
Her throat felt dry. Talking with Malfoy like colleagues. Weird.
“Maybe you should trust me about these riddles too.” He flicked one of the scavenger hunt scrolls towards her. “Show over substance, the aim was to ensure you solved the puzzle in one night even if you were drunk out of your mind. All flash with a punchy finale.”
“Do you really think the Jack-O’-Lantern would have hurt me? How does that fit? I’m not a pure-blood.”
“No, but I am.” Malfoy’s gaze rested on the book chest beside her. “And some of those M&M’s you let follow you are.”
Hermione’s pride squirmed at that. Had she been too reckless?
Harry bustled through the door, breaking the tense moment. “Tea you two?” he offered, rubbing his hand through his wild hair.
“Please,” Hermione sighed gratefully.
“I’ll get it,” Malfoy surprised her by offering. Tossing the pictures and scrolls onto the coffee table, he strolled into the adjoined kitchenette.
“Last thing and then I’ll let you escape,” Harry plopped down in a too-small chair, knees almost up to his chin. “Ahh, here they are now.”
A ruckus outside was followed by Ron dragging an outraged Theo in tow.
“Stop with the manhandling, Weasley!” Theo puffed, “I bruise like a lady's knees.”
Ron made a face shoving Theo hard enough his arms spun for balance.
“Oh, thank Godric! Hermione, save me.” Theo fell onto the couch with her, his legs over her lap, half his bum too. His long arms wrapped around her neck.
Malfoy returned at that moment. His cold stare absorbed their tangle of limbs with extra ice before blinking dismissively.
“Nott, I didn’t know you were involved with Granger?” Malfoy floated goblin teacups to Harry and Hermione.
“Where have you been?” Ron laughed. “They’ve been inseparable all year. I’m only surprised Nott hasn’t put a diamond on her hand yet.”
“Gross,” Theo complained. “Don’t talk about my sister like that.”
Ron’s and Harry’s eyebrows rose in chorus.
Malfoy was a study in horror.
“What?” Theo mocked. “We’re both unbearable swots. You didn’t think there was something romantic brewing? Mione? I thought you said they were intelligent,” Theo complained.
“Don’t be a prat or I won’t share my sofa with you.” Hermione surreptitiously looked up from her surprisingly normal sized teacup to catch Malfoy’s carefully blank regard.
“Huh,” Ron scratched his hair. “No offense, it's just, people talk.”
“Who, Rita Skeeter?” Theo asked slyly, knowing just as well it hadn’t been. Skeeter was too scared of Hermione to write another relationship scandal without express permission.
Malfoy stared venomously at Ron, who had stolen his couch seat. Then transfigured a chair to a comfortable size before sitting opposite Harry. Being the only one in a normal-sized seat gave him the bonus of appearing to hold court over them all from his throne.
Harry grinned apologetically. “Most of the school by the sound of it. Apparently, you were seen leaving Slytherin’s House most mornings at the end of the year.
Malfoy looked scandalized.
Theo laughed, “Ah, right, that.”
Hermione elbowed him. “Slytherin had empty dorm rooms. Conjoin a few, and it made for an excellent lab.”
“A lab?” Ron blinked at her.
“A lab,” Theo smiled lazily stretching out with his arms behind his head.
“Gossipy as hens,” Hermione muttered.
Ron frowned like he was still trying to reorder the last year in his mind.
“What did you need a private lab for?” Harry asked.
“None of your business, Potter.” Theo snatched Hermione’s cup and downed her tea.
Hermione didn’t mind. Her throat was too tight to swallow. It felt like her two lives were shrinking together in the span of a few minutes. Her best friends from before, and her best friend after weren’t getting along, at all.
“Why’s Theo here?” Hermione turned to Harry, tiredly.
Ron sat up chipper. “He came looking for you. Some friend. Leaving you alone to follow that stalker’s notes.”
“One of the Slytherin’s you mentioned gagging?” Malfoy drawled.
“Oh, so you’ve heard about Hermione’s gag group?” Theo pouted. “I’ve been waiting ages for my own invitation to gag.”
Hermione blushed.
“By the by, Mione.” Theo sat up, sliding to sit on the too-small armrest of the couch. “Why do you always send me away when things get fun? An attack Jack-O’-Lantern?”
“Speaking of,” Harry raised his voice. “Let's see this dangerous book then.” Harry shuffled forward, knees almost at his chin in the miniature armchair.
Hermione reluctantly slammed the book chest onto the table before them all. The chest seemed to collect the shadows from the room, a general gloom hovered about the black leather. Everyone leaned forward as she unlocked it, and gently set the locked tomb down beside the chest.
The book hissed, and shuddered, cover rattling and the lock alone keeping it shut.
Harry rubbed at his forehead where the inert scar remained.
Ron shivered.
Theo grinned.
Malfoy said something horrible. “Well, I hope you realize how stupid you’ve been, Granger.”
“That’s a creepy gift, Mione,” Ron agreed.
“Oh get off, Weasley.” Theo laughed in Hermione’s ear coaxing a smile out of her. “It’s Halloween! Of course it’d be a spooky book.”
Hermione felt the tension ease along her neck and shoulders. Theo was just nice to have around.
Plucking the book up, Nott squinted at the cover. “I say, I don’t think I have a copy of this, I don’t even think Malfoy’s library has this volume. I don’t suppose you’ll sell it to me, Mione? I doubt you have the time to learn French what with your already practicing Gobbledegook and Mermish.”
“French? Hermione asked in surprise.
“Very likely. The French have more style with ruins.”
“Style over substance,” Malfoy met Hermione’s eyes darkly.
“Why would you want it?” Ron narrowed his eyes at Theo suspiciously. “Hasn’t there been enough dark magic confiscated from your estate?”
“Because, Weasley.” Theo rolled his eyes. “It probably has a very doable spell for relieving people of their heads cleanly. It would save me so much time if I could adapt the spell for beheading Doxy infestations.”
Ron looked horrified.
Malfoy snorted into his tea.
Harry ignored everything seeming content to let things play.
Hermione turned to Theo. “If you help translate it, I’ll let you play with the less horrible spells. I might even modify one or two for you.” Hermione amended.
“Translate it?” Theo looked horrified. “What? The whole thing? There are spells for that sort of menial labor, Granger!”
“You want me to trust a book of dark spell work to a magical translator spell and hope nothing goes wrong?” Hermione gave him her best, ‘Are you sure you aren’t stupid,’ look.
“If you must painstakingly translate it by hand, just ask Draco,” Theo turned to Malfoy. “He loves this sort of drivel, don’t you mate?”
“You know French Ruins?” Hermione looked at Malfoy suspiciously. Why hadn’t he mentioned the ruins?
“Where do you think he learned to sneer like that?” Theo smirked.
“I hardly think both Granger and I need to work on the translation together,” Malfoy grated.
“Are you saying you’re uninterested in the text then?” Harry leaned back in the too-small chair.
“I’m saying, I can translate it on my own,” Malfoy replied cagily.
“Sure, if Hermione agrees.” Harry turned to Hermione.
Draco sat forward. “You can’t be serious.”
“There’s no concrete correlation that I can substantiate between our case and Hermione’s mystery gift.” Harry shrugged.
Ron looked at Harry like he’d lost it.
Hermione nodded triumphantly. Trust Harry to see sense.
“But I don’t like it, Hermione.” Harry gave her a warning look. “You should make a written statement and submit this book to my office tomorrow.”
“Oh, come on, Harry,” Hermione complained.
Malfoy took his turn looking smug.
“And,” Harry held up a hand at both of them, “I’ll assign you on as a consultant to translate the text, Malfoy if Hermione agrees to have you on. You two can work it out.”
“I don’t work for you, Potter,” Malfoy sneered.
Harry gave him a fatherly frown. ”No, but you’re the one kicking up a fuss. Since you’re so concerned, help her translate.”
Hermione and Malfoy glowered across the book at one another.
“I’ll just need you to go through some paperwork and then you can go home, Hermione.” Harry yawned. “Best everyone not on the clock goes home for the night.” He waved them away.
“Great, bye.” Theo fled to the fireplace Floo.
Hermione primly accepted the paperwork and boxed her illegal dark book back into its chest. Malfoy stalked after her as she marched to the Floo at a dignified run.
“See reason, Granger,” Malfoy hissed, catching her arm. “I’ll even give you a translation of the text after I finish with it.”
“Be useful Malfoy, and I’ll share.” Hermione picked up the Floo powder bag.
“Bloody harpy.” Malfoy shoved his hand into the bag before she could.
“Naff knobhead,” Hermione muttered.
Malfoy stiffened. “You’re daft as that bush you call hair, I have impeccable style.”
Hermione glowered, touching her hair. “Still a lazy sod, Malfoy?”
“Still a swotty know-it-all, Granger?” he drawled.
“Airy-fairy.”
“Ninny.”
“I suppose I’ll consider you tagging along like Watson.” Hermione smiled poisonously.
“Mycroft, remember? Sherlock is brilliant.” He looked her over again in a startling, intense inspection. “Just like you, golden girl.” He leaned close to her ear, breath tickling her neck. “Brilliant, and lesser.”
Hermione swore her destination at the Floo but Malfoy beat her to that too, shoving past a step ahead and disappearing into the fire. Outraged and astonished, she thought Malfoy muttered Tonk’s Residence before they both threw themselves at the Floo.