Outtakes.

August 3rd, 1938, morning, Gringotts Main Bank Offices.

Skullcrusher sat back in his chair and twirled the obsidian stamper thoughtfully, ruminating on the day's events. For a child of twelve to have sensed the Redirection Wards on the Gringotts Portals, enough to be physically affected by them? He had a feeling the girl was far more than met the eye. After a time he leaned forward and tapped the stamper on an obsidian pyramid embedded in the corner of the desk, which chimed at him, "Please inform Lord Ragnok that I need to speak with him, on a matter of middling urgency." He was writing down his recollections of the day when a goblin appeared in the doorway.

"You rang for me, Skully?" Lord Ragnok was a stout goblin, with the large arms his stature as Chief Smith and King of the Goblin Nation required.

Skullcrusher nodded and passed over the stack of parchment, "Albus Dumbledore showed up earlier with a little girl in tow. Blood Adoption paperwork dated yesterday, all fully accepted by the British Ministry."

Ragnok snorted, "Yesterday? That's fast, even for humans. Wonder what he paid them to get it done as a rush job. Or blackmailed them with."

Skullcrusher shrugged, "Dunno, but the interesting thing about this isn't the Adoption, it's the girl herself. She could feel the Wards on the Portals, Rag. It's been a long time since I met a human that sensitive to them."

Ragnok stilled the moving sheets, "Felt them, you said? Amazing. What's her lineage?"

Skullcrusher gestured to the stack that Ragnok was holding, "The damn Blood Adoption is obfuscating things. But her signature is a Swedish Short-Snout, and that would hold true even if she had signed with her Birth Name."

Ragnok rapidly flipped over the pages until he found the two in question and set them side by side, "I see, I see. Not just a rare beast but one of the dragonkin?"

Skullcrusher nodded, "Yes, and when I did the test she turned up with an Olde Family stipend. I told them the Name wouldn't be revealed until the girl reached her majority at seventeen, or sixteen if she has a creature inheritance."

Ragnok peered closely at the sheet with the magical core readout on it, "I'll eat my anvil if she doesn't, not with that signature beast. And I'll wager a bottle of bloodwine that she's a rare one herself."

Skullcrusher grinned, "I wager my Family Stamper and two mithril blades that she's not only rare but mythical. You can, of course, read who the Family is without any trouble. I simply told them it wouldn’t be revealed yet because I don't trust young Albus." All levity faded from his face as he continued, "The girl, called Ariana after his sister, tried to tell me something with her eyes. I think she was with him against her will."

Ragnok scowled, "Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore is a fool, then, if he thinks a forced Blood Adoption will hold. Be it ten years or a hundred, that thing will wear off. And to a Daughter of Peverell and Slytherin? We haven't had one with enough magic to lay claim to the dual Titles walk through the Wards for centuries. The last ones were Isolt Sayre Steward and her daughter Rionach Steward in America, and they couldn't claim the Slytherin one because of their gender. Isolt's other daughter, Martha, was a Squib who married a local tribesman. It's unknown if he was magical." He snorted again, "As if being a female had anything to do with the ability to lead. I inherited the throne from my mother Ingmar, and my current heir is my eldest daughter Ragmar. Humans and their customs can be just plain silly at times."

Skullcrusher chuckled, "Some of them are quite useful, such as asking Mother Magic to bless a newborn child, and dedicating the child to the Olde Gods. My great-grandson Filius has been asking questions for over a decade, since his mother Gneisscracker has no more knowledge of the Olde Ways than a Muggle. I'm going to help him go through the Seeking Ritual when he attains his majority next year."

Ragnok smiled, "That's the half-human son of your granddaughter, right? Does he have any siblings?"

Skullcrusher shook his head, "Thank Mother Magic, he's an only child. I shudder to think what damage my granddaughter could do to a halfling who isn't interested in learning."

Ragnok set the sheaf of parchment on the desk and squared all the corners, "I'll expect him to be Presented at the New Moon following his Seeking and Dedication, then. Back to the matter of this Daughter of an Ancient House... I want you to personally take charge of everything she does that involves Gringotts and the Goblin Nation. What did you tell her about the Wards, and how did she respond?"

Skullcrusher gave a sly grin as he wrote up the terms of their bet and stamped it, his family symbol of a broken geode crossed with a sledgehammer appearing in silver ink, "She asked why it tickled. I then informed her that not many Wizarding folks could feel the wards, and that I couldn't tell her more unless she came to work for us or became a Goblinfriend." He laughed, "I should tell you that she said farewell to me in our own tongue, right in this very office. If I didn't know any better, I'd say she was from my own Warren I grew up in. A polymath, a Charms prodigy, magic sensitive, with a Class XXXXX beast as her Signature, and a Daughter of the Ancient, Noble, and Great House of Peverell and the Olde, Noble, and Once-Great House of Slytherin. If she's not an Orateur de Serpents as well, I'll dance at the next Presentation after she comes of age in a witch's robe with an enchanted broom for a partner."

Ragnok chortled at the image, "Skully, I would enjoy seeing that, add it to the terms of the bet, I'll owe you two crates of bloodwine in that case. And you say she's only known about the Wizarding World for two days, yet already speaks fluent Goblinese? Stunning, truly stunning."

Skullcrusher wrote down the modifications and then passed the bet sheet across to Ragnok, who pressed his thumb to the page and it glowed a brilliant gold before fading to the symbol of a crowned anvil, "Only one, really, she barely received her introductory books yesterday afternoon, after the Adoption Ritual. The girl must have an eidetic memory as we--" He stuttered to a halt, then stood up and went to his file cabinet and pulled open a drawer, "I've just remembered, some of the last descendants of Salazar Slytherin here in Britain died a few years back." He leafed through the files and pulled out one triumphantly, "Found it! Isolt Steward's mother was Rionach Gaunt Sayre. I knew Gaunts were involved! Look, Maia Gaunt Gaunt, deceased 1915, Little Hangleton. Marvolo Gaunt, deceased 1925, Little Hangleton. Morfin Gaunt, currently living in Little Hangleton. Merope Gaunt Riddle, deceased 1926, London. Wait, Riddle. That's the name of their Muggle neighbors, the younger male that Morfin attacked in 1925. When the Ministry went round for questioning, the two wizards were so belligerent to the polite representative he Disapparated and went back with a full Hit Squad to arrest them both."

"It would appear young Miss Gaunt took her chance to leave what was to all appearances a very unhappy household." Ragnok pulled the file towards him, curious, "I wonder how she convinced the man to marry her. She certainly didn't live very long after her father and brother were arrested. And to have made it all the way to London? I would be interested to know what pulled her there. Investigate. I'm sure you can find a Glamor that will allow you to search even Muggle London for what happened to her. By the time 'Ariana' comes back to speak with you about this, I want you to have every last scrap of information possible about what she needs to know. Including how Albus bloody Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore was able to steal her away from a Muggle orphanage without anyone realizing a witch was missing. By the Hammer, someone should have noticed something by now. Be discrete, though, we don't know if he has a major plan in the works or if it was simply the fact that he and his brother were lonely after Aurelius."

Skullcrusher opened a drawer in his desk and took out another sheet of blank parchment, "Did you want me to reassign all my accounts to other managers until I'm done? And I should probably have at least one witch or wizard come along when I go into Muggle London, just to be safe. Any suggestions?" He started writing a list of questions and things to do.

Ragnok stood up, "Yes, everything, and if one of the Dumbledores comes in while you're otherwise occupied I'll take care of it myself. As for a trustworthy human," he tapped his chin thoughtfully, then smiled, showing very pointy teeth, some of which had been replaced or embellished with various metals and/or gems, "Take Cursebreaker Scamander with you, she's the best we have. I also want you to look into Martha Steward. It's possible she has living descendants, who could be magical."

Skullcrusher laughed, "We can pretend to be a mother and son out for a day of shopping, and no one will bat an eyelid. Raggy, you're brilliant. And I'll have to contact Ilvermorny for Martha Steward's information, I'm afraid we have nothing on her after she left the school and got married."

"That's why I'm the King of the Goblin Nation, Skully, and you're the Chief Accounts Manager. You see connections others don't, and I want you to put that to work on this conundrum. And if you happen to get into trouble, well, her Uncles Newt and Theseus will help you out of it if they know what's good for them." Ragnok chuckled and left the room, turning before exiting, "I suggest you write to young Twyla before the week is out, I believe she's currently in Peru excavating that ziggurat they found." 

Ragnok continued out the door, still laughing, as Skullcrusher kept writing. One letter he sent off immediately, to Cosme Acajor, Monsieur Acajor, I write to you with a request. A very special young lady will be visiting your shop today, under the name of Ariana Odette Dumbledore. I would like you to inform me as to the composition of her wand after she leaves, as I believe she is a person of great import. Strange things are afoot, and she appears to be at the center of them. May your gold everflow, Master Skullcrusher, Chief Accounts Manager of Gringotts.

He sent it off with an owl, then bent his quill to pen another letter, Cursebreaker Twyla Mafalda Scamander, you are hereby recalled from Peru to the Main Cavern, assignment to be explained upon arrival, for a delicate mission of utmost importance. This letter constitutes a Portkey, to which you simply speak the word "Tun" when you are ready to return. It will place you within your quarters here. May your gold everflow, Master Skullcrusher, Chief Accounts Manager of Gringotts. This one he tapped with his stamper, muttering "Banali" under his breath and the letter glowed briefly with a bronze light. He set it in his Outgoing Mail tray, which immediately flashed a brilliant white and when the light cleared the letter had vanished, to be sent to its addressee. Then he turned to arrange his other matters so he could focus his full attention on the Ariana Problem.

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August 3, 1938, lunchtime, Gladrags Paris

Madame Lautrec waved the small girl out of the store, then sat down and wrote a couple letters, Madame Jehanne Dee, I have found you your apprenctice! She goes by Ariana Dumbledore, and is a non-magique witch from England starting second year at Beauxbatons next month. She came in today for a fitting and confided to me that she's had prophetic dreams all her life. It's a wonder the poor girl hasn't gone mad yet, because every single one of those dreams has come true. She said that she's Seen a Great War coming, but not how it ends, and that it involves someone she loves dearly. Oh, Grandmere, she was terrified as she told me! Please, take care of her, I feel she needs delicate handling, and fear that she may not receive much love from the two middle-aged Dumbledore brothers. Zephie, Gladrags Paris. P.S. She mentioned something about talking snakes, do you think she could be an Orateur de Serpents? 

The witch looked over her letter twice, nodded in satisfaction, then called for her owl, "Isidore, please take this to Grandmere at Beauxbatons. It's urgent." The eagle-owl nodded, nuzzled his beak against her cheek for a moment, then flew out the window. She watched him go, then turned to write another letter, "Master Skullcrusher, Chief Accounts Manager of Gringotts. I have a feeling you already know this, but young Ariana Dumbledore is more than what she seems. While she was in here getting fitted she mentioned a Dream about death and talking snakes. I have written to Grandmere Jehanne to expect her new apprentice next month. I know my own limitations as a Seer, but I feel this girl may be even more powerful than Grandmere and Cassandra Trelawney put together, and you know from whom Grandmere is descended. I will hold my tongue on this matter unless and until Mademoiselle Dumbledore wishes to speak further about it. May your gold everflow, Madame Zephyrine Coralie Dee-Lautrec, Gladrags Paris. She then tapped it twice, uttered "Gringotts Atrium" over it, and it vanished in a puff of smoke that looked like a golden swan. She then went back to hemming the robe she had been working on when Ariana walked in.

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Elsewhere, within the Gringotts Atrium, a golden swan preceded the arrival of a letter in a receiving tray addressed to Master Skullcrusher. A goblin apprentice picked it up and dashed through the halls to Master Skullcrusher's office. "Master Skullcrusher?" They knocked on the door.

Master Skullcrusher looked up from reassigning accounts. "Yes, Apprentice Axebeard? You may enter."

Apprentice Axebeard, thus addressed, entered the room. Even in his youth he had a wispy goatee. "Master," he began, setting the letter on the desk, "This arrived in a cloud of golden smoke shaped like a swan. I thought it best to let you know right away."

Skullcrusher nodded and opened the letter, "Yes, you were right. Tell Barksplitter that you are to receive a bonus for your work today. If he quibbles, tell him I ordered it myself." Apprentice Axebeard nodded and scuttled off, presumably to Barksplitter, as Skullcrusher read over the letter once more with a growing smile on his face. "I was right, she is an Orateur de Serpents, Raggy owes me." He set the letter with the Ariana File and went back to his other work.

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August 3, 1938, teatime, Les Baguettes Magiques de Cosme Acajor, Paris

The moment the young auburn-haired witch with scared grey eyes stepped out of his shop, Cosme Acajor flipped the Open sign to Closed and sat down with a quill and parchment. He frowned as he dipped the quill in a nearby inkpot and started writing, Master Skullcrusher, Chief Accounts Manager of Gringotts. You had asked me to write you when Miss Dumbledore visited me. In all my years of wandmaking, I've never seen or even heard of something like hers. She has both dual cores and dual woods. The cores are a dittany stalk and shavings of a unicorn horn, the woods are ivy and silver lime. She asked me if there was such a thing as Mindhealing in the Wizarding World, and I told her not yet, but Mother Magic seems insistent that she will be the first. She also asked me about oaths taken under duress, and I told her that ivy would help her break them, in addition to the strong Mental Magic affinity the girl obviously has.
And the acceptance once the four components were assembled... I tell you, I'm quite sure my neighbors thought fireworks were going off in my shop. She was lifted into the air on shimmering wings of blue and silver light and I had to close my eyes against the brilliance of the flash. I expect the impossible from her, honestly, with a wand such as this. I will get in touch with other wandmakers around the globe, but I'm quite sure she's unique. I look forward to hearing about her future. May your gold everflow, Cosme Acajor, Les Baguettes Magiques de Cosme Acajor, Paris.

He rolled up the parchment and sealed it with a bronze stamper of five crossed wands in red wax, then called for his owl, "Toulouse, à moi, s’il vous plaît."A large tawny owl flew down from the rafters and landed on his left shoulder. "Merci. Voudriez-vous porter cette lettre à Gringotts pour moi?" Toulouse shuffled down to the countertop and held out one leg, which Cosme tied the scroll to. "Merci encore. Cela va directement à Master Skullcrusher." Toulouse hooted and pumped his wings, taking off and flying out a nearby window, as Cosme watched after him. "Cette pauvre fille, elle a besoin de toute l’aide qu’elle peut obtenir." He then turned and walked back into the workshop to clean up, his mind on the afternoon's interaction.

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A large tawny owl soared through the Gringotts Atrium, dodging other post and inter-office owls as he arrowed towards Skullcrusher's office. The goblins ignored him, used to owls and knowing that to interfere with one was an offense not taken lightly by either Goblin or Wizarding standards. Skullcrusher looked up as he entered and landed lightly on the desk, politely holding out a leg with a scroll attached to it. He removed the scroll and fed the owl a treat, stroking his head, "Thank you, there will be no reply." The owl nodded and took off with a powerful stroke of his wings that fluttered but did not scatter the parchments laid flat all over the desk.

He flew around Skullcrusher's head once and then went out the door, back to his master. Skullcrusher, meanwhile, had returned his gaze to the scroll, taking in the wax seal of five crossed wands, "Acajor followed instructions, then. Good, let's see what Mother Magic has in store for Miss Dumbledore." He broke the seal and read the letter through three times, his eyes bulging out and the talons on his free hand tapping on the desk. After the third time, he picked up his stamper and rang it twice against the obsidian pyramid, "Ragnok, urgently!"

Ragnok appeared in the doorway not two minutes later, and Skullcrusher wordlessly handed him the letters from Zephyrine Lautrec and Cosme Acajor. Ragnok sat down heavily in one of the chairs as he read through the missives once, then a second time, his eyebrows lifting so high they nearly flew off his face, "Yes, I see why you summoned me. This girl, whoever she truly is under that Blood Adoption, it appears as if she will make great changes to the Wizarding World. I look forward to it." He grinned across the desk at Skullcrusher, "I guess I'll never get my hands on your family stamper now."

Skullcrusher grinned back as he extracted the bet sheet from the piles of parchment on the desk, "Nope, not this time. When can I expect my bloodwine?" The sheet was glowing silver, signifying that Skullcrusher had won the bet, as he passed it to Ragnok, "And I expect a good year, not that 1865 swill you keep on hand for Wizards."

Ragnok laughed and tore the sheet in half, folding one into a mole, which he set on the floor. The parchment mole immediately dug into the stone floor and vanished like water, "I promise, not the 1865. How do you feel about the 1906? Or would you prefer the 1812?" He handed back the other half to Skullcrusher, who deposited it in a desk drawer.

Skullcrusher shrugged, "Either is good, though I wouldn't say no to a 1775."

Ragnok blew air through his begemmed teeth, "You'll get your claws on a 1775 the day Miss Dumbledore, or one of her descendants, officially lays claim to the Slytherin and Peverell Heirships."

Skullcrusher snagged another clean sheet of parchment and wrote that down, "Agreed. And if I've died before that happens, you give it to Filius."

Ragnok nodded, "The terms are acceptable."

Skullcrusher squinted at Ragnok, "What happens if she has more than one descendant who lays claim? I mean, if the Lines split?"

Ragnok stroked his chin, musing, "Hmm... unlikely, Albus doesn't seem the sort of chap to marry her to anyone but a Pureblood heir, and most of the Olde Families rarely have a Spare anymore, let alone five or six children." He tapped the desk thoughtfully, "Alright, if the Lines split because she has multiple offspring, grandchildren inclusive, I'll give you not only a crate of the 1775 but also my lucky hammer."

Skullcrusher shook his head, "No, I don't want your hammer." He suddenly looked nervous, "I, er, um..."

Ragnok laughed, "It's not often I see you lost for words Skully. Out with it."

Skullcrusher attempted to blush, making Ragnok grin even wider, "Well, you know my partner died, right?"

Ragnok nodded, grin sliding off his face and sitting up straight, "Yes, your Soulmate Silverpick. I thought you weren't planning on getting Bonded again?" His eyes grew wide, then he narrowed his eyes in suspicion, "Do you have your sights set on one of my daughters? You're their godfather, for Ptah's sake, and even older than I am!"

Skullcrusher shook his head swiftly, negating that, "By Ptah, no! I could never court one of your daughters, I changed their nappies, if you recall." He grinned faintly at Ragnok's glower, "I changed yours also, a fact that's probably slipped your mind."

Ragnok glared, "I try to forget it. Now, what's got you in such a swivet, then? You don't need my permission to Court, or Bond, and we've already established that you don't want one of my daughters for that."

Skullcrusher sighed, "But I do need the King's permission to Court his mother, the Dowager King."

Ragnok fell off his chair, "You want to Court Ingmar, Scourge of the Mediterranean?!" Ragnok hefted himself off the floor and laughed, "By Ptah's Staff, you have balls, Skullcrusher! Mother ruled alone her entire time as King of the Goblin Horde, and none of her bedwarmers was ever elevated past the office of Courtesan. Half my brothers and sisters don't even know who their other parent is."

Skullcrusher waved a hand irritably, "I know all this, Ragnok, I was there when she took office. She's the one who made me Chief Accounts Manager, you know."

Ragnok narrowed his eyes again, "Was it for... serviced rendered?"

Skullcrusher shook his head, "No, not at all, I've never set foot inside the King's bedchamber in my life. And before you ask, neither had Silverpick. When I was installed, she muttered something about owing my Bearer a favor, but never went into detail. As Jasper isn't around to ask questions of, I queried my father Hackhammer, but he couldn't tell me anything." He shrugged, "Unless Ingmar has changed her mind about saying something, I suppose we'll never know."

Ragnok sighed and nodded, "You have my blessing to Court Ingmar, if she accepts your suit."

Skullcrusher added the necessary adjustments to the new bet sheet and applied his stamper to the page, then passed it across to Ragnok, who pressed his thumb next to Skullcrusher's seal. "I appreciate this, Ragnok."

Ragnok waved his hand irritably as Skullcrusher added the new bet sheet to the other half sheet in his desk drawer, "Thank me by treating my mother well, if she even deigns to allow the notion." He stood up, "You'd better have some good Courting Gifts in mind, if you get past the first two hurdles."

Skullcrusher nodded, "Oh, don't worry, I've had a long time to get over Silverpick and started feeling this way for Ingmar. I have a list of Gifts, and several are already partially completed."

Ragnok raised an eyebrow at this information, "I see. Well, on your own head be it if she refuses, or you lose." He turned and left the office with a cackle, closing the door behind him.

Skullcrusher sighed and sat staring at the window for a few minutes, before he shook himself and got back to work.

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August 7, 1938, Gringotts Armory.

Skullcrusher and Cursebreaker Twyla Scamander stood in the Armory of the Goblin Nation, sparring. Though she was a good two feet taller than he was, he had at least three centuries on her, and was wily enough to use them to his advantage. She had a shortsword in each hand while he parried her attacks easily with a longhandled greathammer. "Remind me... again why we're... fighting manually... instead of using... our magic, Master?" They had been going at it for nearly two hours, and she was tiring.

Skullcrusher swung the greathammer around and nearly smashed Twyla's right foot, the woman dancing out of the way just in time, "Because, my young friend, most Wizarding folks won't expect a physical attack. And if you happen to be accosted in the Muggle world you'll need to be able to defend yourself without a wand." Unlike the human, the goblin was breathing easily, not even sweating. "That's enough now, you may go run ten laps to cool down, then clean your swords before putting them back on the rack."  Twyla sighed and did as she was told, Skullcrusher joining her on the laps and then cleaning his greathammer before returning it to the stand.

Later, after they'd both showered, they were sitting in Skullcrusher's office reading over the paperwork on Ariana Odette Dumbledore and all the information on the Gaunts the Ministry and Gringotts had. "Master Skullcrusher, why was I pulled off Peruvian temple duty and recalled to the Main Caverns? My team had just gotten to the high priest's chambers."

Skullcrusher set down the Gaunt file he'd been reading, "Because King Ragnok himself recommended you for this mission, Cursebreaker. He said you were the best and most trustworthy human we had. It's delicate, and involves undercover work in the Muggle world. Possibly the Wizarding one as well. As you can tell from the files, several things just don't add up. This girl, we need to discover how she's related to the Peverells, Slytherin, and the last of the Gaunts. Isolt Sayre, daughter of Rionach Gaunt, married a Muggle and they had two daughters, Rionach and Martha. Rionach refused to marry, loudly declaiming to her dying breath that she wanted the evil line of Slytherin to cease to exist. Martha the Squib left the school and married a Muggle like her father, or it's possible he was also a Squib, we have no way of knowing. Can you ask your Aunt Tina if she knows anything? We need to find out if Martha had any children, and if so, if the line of Gaunt still lives in America."

Twyla nodded slowly, "I can try, but she's the Head Auror now, I don't know if she'll have time to look into this personally. Do we have a deadline on when we need the information by?"

Skullcrusher looked at the Blood Adoption paperwork, "According to this, Ariana Odette Dumbledore turns sixteen on August 2nd, 1942. Assuming she comes into a creature inheritance, she'll most likely be contacting us then. Since we currently have no idea when her real birthdate is, or her true name, we shall use that as our deadline. Monsieur Acajor contacted me as soon as she left his shop the other day, as I had warned him to be on the lookout for her. She walked out with a wand of such staggering power I'm surprised she didn't set off wards halfway down the street. It's ivy and silver lime, with a dual core of unicorn horn and dittany stalk."

Twyla blinked, "I'm not up on my wandlore, but unicorn horn and dittany are both used in healing potions. She must be incredibly pure of heart to have two cores, I don't think even Uncle Newt has two. The outer shaft of his wand is made from ash and mother of pearl, though. And knowing him as I do, he absolutely has unicorn hair as his core. I remember once as a child, I picked up his wand and tried to make a daisy chain, and it simply just wouldn't work for me. Sat in my hand as if it was a Muggle stick, until he noticed me and took it away, waving it and making a daisy chain appear on my head. Then he booped me on the nose and said I was much too tempestuous to handle such a calm instrument, and that Ollivander would most likely have one made from acacia and dragon heartstring when I went in."

She laughed, showing off her reddish-orange wand with deep bronze filigree, "And look, three years later that's exactly what I was matched with. Anyway, we have a good four years, I think I can work on convincing Aunt Tina to help in that time."

Skullcrusher nodded and started writing, Madame Porpentina Goldstein Scamander, Head Auror of MACUSA, I request your assistance in a matter of international diplomacy. I understand you are a graduate of Ilvermorny Academy, and I wish to ask you if you have any information as to the descendants of one Martha Steward II. I am tracing the Gaunt family tree, and she appears to be the only member of the American branch who survived past 1650. I have recently had the good fortune to meet a member of the original British Line. I send this with your niece Twyla Scamander, who is assisting me with this delicate project. May your gold everflow, Master Skullcrusher, Chief Accounts Manager of Gringotts. He applied his obsidian stamper to it and then handed the letter to Twyla, "Send this immediately, please, so she can think it over and get back to us as soon as she can."

Twyla nodded as she slipped the letter into her pocket, "I usually write them once or twice a week, I'll send it off with my next letter. Now, what are we to do while we wait for my Aunt and Uncle to respond?"

Skullcrusher grinned, showing most of his pointed teeth, "Why, take an acting class, of course."

She blinked, confused, "Acting class, Master?"

He nodded, nearly bouncing out of his chair, "Acting, girl, we need to go into Muggle London to do our sleuthing, and you need to learn how to pretend to be my mother!"

She laughed at that, "Me? A mother?" She stopped laughing at his Look, "Oh, you're serious. Why do I have to be your mother? I'm not nearly old enough for a child."

He sighed, "Because I will be wearing a Glamor to appear as a human child of ten, and you were recommended by King Ragnok as the best person for this assignment. Now, walking around Diagon Alley won't be too suspicous for me, but Muggles have never met a goblin before, hence the need for a disguise. And you being a human woman, what better disguise for you than to be the mother of said child. We will be going to several locations, and due to the utmost secrecy of this mission most of them you shan't be able to use your wand. This is why you will be armed at all times while outside the Wards, just as I shall. The Muggle world is gearing up for war, and it's not safe for a person travelling alone."

Twyla nodded, "Now I understand. Yes, of course, Master."

He snorted, "Better get used to not calling me that, Mother. It breaks credibility if you refer to me by anything other than my name."

Twyla giggled at this, "And what name am I supposed to use, then?"

He laughed, "You're my mother, I suggest you find me a suitable one. Nothing too flashy, though, we don't need to stand out when asking questions. And on that note, you should decide on a codename for yourself. Twyla Mafalda Scamander is too unusual for a Muggle or Muggle-born witch."

She nodded, eyes dancing with mirth, "I'll be sure to pick out a good one for both of us. When are we taking these classes, and when are we going out?"

Skullcrusher waved his stamper at the obsidian pyramid on the desk and a female goblin entered, "This is Ragmar, Prince of the Goblin Nation, and our drama coach."

Ragmar chuckled at the awestruck look on Twyla's face, "Don't be so stiff, girlie, I won't bite." She winked, "Not unless you want me to."

Skullcrusher cleared his throat as Twyla turned beet-red at the comment, "Ragmar, we're not here for you to flirt, we're here to learn how to act as if we were a mother and son. Or do I have to tell your father you were chasing skirts again?"

Ragmar sobered, though her eyes still danced with mischief, "No, Uncle Skully, I'll behave."

Twyla looked back and forth between them, "Uncle?"

He chortled, "Not exactly. I'm her godfather, and she couldn't say 'Skullcrusher' until she was about ten. In any case, please, start teaching."

Ragmar nodded, “Ok, sorry, I’ll try to keep it more professional. Twyla, come over here, I have a script for you to read from.” She handed a sheaf of papers from her satchel to Skullcrusher, then walked over to the door and waited.

Twyla stood up and followed her, taking the script from Ragmar’s outstretched hand. Human and goblin alike read over the script for a few minutes, before Twyla looked up, “I think I understand the gist of this, but we surely won’t be going out with scripts in hand every single time. Someone will catch us out in about two seconds flat, and then it’s game over.”

Ragmar grinned, showing several pointy teeth, “Once you get used to the script here in the office, you’ll start working in improvisations to the scene. After a while, you and Uncle Skully will be doing entire scenes off the top of your own heads, and it will seem fluid and natural. How long do we have to practice, Uncle Skully?”

Skullcrusher looked at the two women, “Miss Dumbledore’s legal sixteenth birthday is August Second, 1942. We have until then to gather everything we can, to present her with her origins. I hope we’ll be going out in public before the year is over, though.”

Ragmar nodded, “Ok, so you have nearly five months to learn how to be a good actress. We’ll say four, letting you out in the middle of November sounds like a good plan. Until then, you and Uncle Skully are to share quarters, eat together, study, everything, just as if you really were parent and child. You’ve been assigned another set of quarters within the Warren, Uncle, for the duration of this exercise, Dad’s orders. It’s written at the bottom of the script, and you’ll find them by following the marks on the walls.”

Skullcrusher sighed, “Why can’t we just use the set I currently have, Ragmar? My partner is gone, my children and grandchildren have married and moved in with their spouses, and the place is empty except when young Filius comes to visit. It’s perfect.”

Ragmar shrugged, “I’m just relaying what I was told. Of course, if you really dug your heels in, I’m sure Dad would let up. But I think the new set is farther from the Warren Center, further out in the Outer Caves, so you’d have real windows instead of magical ones. I’m informed humans need actual sunlight, not the reflected stuff we make do with.”

Skullcrusher raised an eyebrow and looked at the coordinates again, “Windows, you say? Filius hasn’t complained, but I’ve noticed he looked a little sadder when he leaves after his visits. Perhaps it won’t be so bad, and I can apply for a permanent change.”

Ragmar hid a smile, “I thought you’d see it Dad’s way. Apprentices are waiting to be instructed as to the packing and unpacking of your things. Twyla, you’ll need to vacate the Cursebreaker’s barracks before the end of tomorrow.”

Twyla nodded, riffling through the script, “I can be out before bedtime tonight, I didn’t really unpack when I got back from Peru. Most of my belongings are still at home in Scamander Manor. Will I need to send for anything?”

Ragmar shook her head, “The tailors can fit you with any clothing you’re missing. Same for the jewelers, though you’ll need to sign a form that says you’re only borrowing those items and at the end of this assignment they will all need to be returned. If you wish to purchase any of them, you will be given a discount from market value, but upon your death they revert back to the goblins. Most humans get it wrong, and pass down goblin-made items as family heirlooms. We’re still trying to get a tiara back that was made two centuries ago for a Weasley bride, and the sword of Godric Gryffindor hasn’t been seen since his grandson married one of the Prewett heiresses and took her name.” She laughed at herself, “But that’s not your assignment. This task is to find out all you can about the Gaunts, on both sides of the ocean. Perhaps once it’s over you’ll be charged with finding the Sword.”

Skullcrusher cleared his throat, “Ragmar, Twyla may be a Cursebreaker, but she’s not privy to every secret the Goblin Nation has. See, your loose tongue is one of the reasons your father is considering your sister Dagmar instead.”

Ragmar winked at Twyla, unrepentant, “Oh, calm down, Uncle Skully, I’m only telling her what’s common knowledge, there’s tons of stuff I haven’t shared with anyone. Like the fact that my soulmate isn’t a goblin.” She looked him full in the face, “Does this Dumbledore girl you’re researching have a soulmate?”

Skullcrusher set down the script and shuffled through the Ariana Dumbledore file to her Magical Signature page, “Hmmm… it would appear so, but I can’t make out who it is. Mother Magic doesn’t seem to wish to give up her secrets easily. They are male, at any rate, I can tell that much, it says something about her husband.” He looked at her sternly, “Is that why you asked your father for this assignment, in the hopes that that child was your soulmate?”

Ragmar raised her hands and shook them (and her head) in negation swiftly, “No, no, of course not. I would never approach someone under the legal age, you know that! Besides, I get the feeling my soulmate’s much older than twelve. I’m sure I’ll meet them before I have to take the throne from Dad.”

“And when will that be?” Twyla asked curiously.

Ragmar smiled, “Oh, not for at least another century, Dad’s still only a hundred and seventy. Grandma Ingmar held the throne the longest in our history, nearly five hundred years. And she’s still alive, just passed all the decision-making on to the younger generation.” She laughed, then pointed at the scripts Twyla and Skullcrusher had, “Enough history, you two had better learn your lines. I’ll be back to check on you next week.” She walked out of Skullcrusher’s office whistling.

Skullcrusher chuckled once Ragmar was out of earshot, “She’s quite brash and forward, but a fierce fighter, and nearly as good a smith as her father was at her age.”

Twyla raised both eyebrows, “And it is usual for her to address women so, ah, cavalierly?” She blushed again.

Skullcrusher nodded, “She’s always been rather blunt with her affections. If she likes you, she shows it. If she doesn’t like you, run. I’ll ask you to keep everything said here today in confidence, though. Her position as Crown Prince could be in jeopardy if word got out she was talking about Clan Secrets to an Outsider, even one who is a Cursebreaker.”

“I’m guessing that means the flirting, also? I can keep quiet about it all.” Twyla agreed softly.

Skullcrusher shook his head, “No, no one cares who she pursues romantically, so long as she eventually settles down with her soulmate, whoever they will be. Unlike the Muggles, and more like the Wizarding World, we approve of two men or two women together. Cross-species couples have a little more trouble, mostly because the resultant halfling has to learn both cultures. My great-grandson Filius is one of those, he’s a student over at Hogwarts, about to start his N.E.W.T. year. Throuples are rarer, but held in great esteem amongst us, though most humans distrust polygamous relationships. I’ve never understood why.” He shrugged, “Anyway, I’ll let you read over that script and meet you at our new quarters tonight.”

Twyla rolled the script up and nodded, blushing as she hesitantly asked, “So if, say, I was to allow her to show her affections?”

Skullcrusher grinned, showing off his pointy teeth, “I would say it to be a once-in-a-lifetime experience, and to sit back and enjoy the ride for as long as it lasts. Just be sure to keep work and play separate.”

Twyla nodded again, “I’ll remember that. See you tonight.” She exited the office and headed for the Cursebreaker’s Barracks, as Skullcrusher laughed and sat back in his chair, ruminating on the events of the day.

Ragnok appeared around the corner just then, “And how was your first acting class, Skully?”

Skullcrusher laughed and gestured for Ragnok to sit down, “Not much acting. Little Ragmar started out flirting with the Cursebreaker. I yanked her chain a bit, and she settled down, but I think the young Scamander is also taken with your girl.”

Ragnok raised an eyebrow, “Really? You think they would jeopardize the mission for some philandering?”

Skullcrusher shook his head, “Not what I meant. Did you know that Ragmar’s soulmate isn’t a goblin?”

Ragnok blinked, “I don’t see what that has to do with… ohhhhh, you think this young witch could be the one? There you go again, Skully, making connections others might miss.”

Skullcrusher nodded, “It takes a rare human indeed to even acknowledge their willingness to be courted by a goblin. Look at my granddaughter, I think at this point she’s more human in outlook than goblin. I will admit that young Filius will be a fine goblin one day, but he should be forging his first hammer by this age, not barely learning how to dedicate himself to the Olde Gods. I don’t foresee that culture clash happening with Ragmar and Twyla, though, considering as a Cursebreaker she already knows many of our customs anyway.”

Ragnok grinned, “I’ll take great pleasure in planning their bonding ritual, then. And my mother will be thrilled to come out of retirement for her Eldest Grandchild. Last I heard she was lying on a Wizarding beach on Jamaica drinking a mimosa.”

Skullcrusher grinned back, “She mentioned that she doesn’t expect to take over from you for at least a century. Better not make getting married a condition of her inheritance.”

Ragnok shook his head, “Of course not, Mother would break my anvil over my head. When do you think would be a good time to break the news to Twyla that a goblin’s soulmate lives for as long as their Bonded?”

Skullcrusher rolled his eyes, “Let the girls start courting first, Raggy, it may be that I’m wrong and Twyla’s not Ragmar’s soulmate anyway.”

Ragnok rolled his eyes in turn, “Come off it, Skully, you’ve only been wrong a handful of times since I was Ariana’s age. I doubt this is one of them. If I didn’t know better I would say that you had some Seer blood.”

Skullcrusher shuddered, “Go stick your head in the forgefire, Ragnok, for thinking such a thing. I’m pure goblin, just luckier than most.”

Ragnok simply looked thoughtful, “I wonder if you may be one of Ptah’s descendants. It’s said that the God of Craftsmen and Prophecy had a hand in the creation of the Goblin Nation. I could believe it, in all the iconography he looks a bit like a very tall goblin himself. Who’s to say he didn’t join his blood with some of our ancestors?”

Skullcrusher made as if to throw a quill in Ragnok’s direction, “Now who’s speculating on might-have-beens? Until you have something concrete, keep quiet about it. I don’t want young Filius drowning under even more superstition and stigmata.”

Ragnok sighed, “Fine, I won’t tell anyone my theories.” He stood and walked to the door, turning to fire a last word, “But you should look into it, just in case it’s true,” and then vanished back into the depths of the Goblin Caverns.

Skullcrusher sighed, rolled his eyes, and began putting files away.