Behind Cellar Doors
The mess that had been Thaddeus Nott lay in a pool of his own leaking fluids. Harry watched as Theo kicked his father onto his back.
“Is it over?” Harry asked, eyeing the blood coating his boots.
“It’s over when I want it to be,” Theo said. “But yes, he is dead.”
“Good.”
Harry knew all of Theo’s scars. He had traced them late at night, he could find them with his eyes closed. Magic needn’t leave any wounds, but Thaddeus Nott had wanted Theo to have them, so he did.
“If he disappears, someone may come looking,” Harry said.
“We dump him in Knockturn Alley,” Theo said. “No wand, no money. An attack of opportunity.”
“Or the muggle world,” Harry said. “Either option will have the Ministry villainizing someone else. Proof that muggles are savages, or that werewolves are, or half-breeds, half-bloods, muggleborns. They’ll pin it on one of us undesirables.”
“I confess,” Theo said, kicking his dead father again, “I did not anticipate this. I had other plans for this evening.”
Harry checked his watch. “Catharsis waits for no man. We could frame it as an Order job.” He looked into the room Dolohov had been in and saw the man was already gone. “Turn his clothes into a portkey and dump him in the middle of the ocean.”
Harry took down the ward, levitated the body into that room, closed the door, then vanished the stains on the floor. “We have some time to think before he will be missed.”
“He won’t be missed,” Theo said. “He’s the only one left who was from Riddle’s generation. All of their contemporaries are dead. They may just assume he’s died of old age, or dragon pox, or any number of maladies. Who would check?”
Harry sighed, and pulled Theo into a hug. It took a moment for him to reciprocate.
“They don’t have regular meetings without Riddle,” Harry said. “We’ll keep a look out for anyone asking questions about him.”
Theo leaned into him. “I think I’m done here.”
It was late at night when they snuck onto the grounds of Hogwarts. A basket had been charmed lightweight, and Harry rode in it as a fox while Theo as a crow flew them over the gates. It was remarkable how no one had managed to ward against animagi, after Pettigrew and Skeeter, though perhaps McGonagall being one herself made it impractical.
Theo landed near Dumbledore’s tomb, and the two transformed back into humans.
“We need to level the ground,” Theo said. “It would be faster than redoing the calculations.”
Theo began casting spells to obscure their presence.
“I’ll make it a larger area, then,” Harry said. “Otherwise he might notice something amiss.”
Harry shifted the snow to the side, revealing the frozen ground beneath. He walked around Dumbledore’s tomb in a widening circle, smoothing the land out in a way that he hoped would seem part of the tomb itself, as if it had been prepared specially for the beloved headmaster. When he was finished, he sat on top of the tomb and kept an eye on the castle. Neville was on guard with the map, and would contact him through their mirrors if anyone headed their way.
“I could climb in here,” Harry said, patting the tomb. “Pretend I’m Sleeping Beauty, awaiting true love’s kiss.”
“You needn’t wait for that,” Theo said, cutting another small hole out of the ground and dropping a stone inside. Each was carved with a rune. Each had been soaked in Harry’s blood. Forty-nine of them.
“But wouldn’t it be a laugh for him to show up and find me inside?”
“I need to concentrate,” Theo said.
Harry wrinkled his nose and went back to watching.
When Theo was finished, they redistributed the snow and walked to the Forbidden Forest, smoothing the footprints they left behind. Harry saw smoke coming from Hagrid’s chimney. He was glad the gamekeeper hadn’t been driven from his home again.
“Are you ready?” Theo asked.
Harry obligingly turned into a fox and curled up in the basket. Theo knelt down to scratch his ears.
“So adorable,” Theo said. “Foxes were always my favorite animal. They don’t live on Fair Isle. There are mostly birds, but also rabbits and mice. And fish, of course. Orcas, dolphins, seals. But no foxes. No forests.”
He looked around at the trees. Harry twitched his ears. Theo ran his hand down Harry’s back, then turned into a crow to carry them away.
“What do you mean Hermione and Ron are gone?”
“Exactly what I said,” Sirius replied. He’d just come back home and was holding a small piece of parchment. “They left Muriel’s house without telling anyone. Arthur says they’ve taken a tent he had with them, and a large number of books from the library.”
“I can’t deal with this,” Harry said. “What were they thinking?”
The murtlap in his hand squeaked. “Sorry,” Harry said, setting it back down in its terrarium. They’d captured some of the tentacled rats along the coast, and Harry had been in the middle of trimming the tentacles to be pickled for murtlap essence.
“That’s what Remus was hoping you would know,” Sirius said. “No one knows those two better than you.”
Harry sat down on his stool, spinning slightly. He noticed Phineas was in his frame, spying as usual. It didn’t matter much if Phineas, or Snape, or Dumbledore’s portrait knew he was living with Sirius. Or that Hermione and Ron had lost their minds and went camping.
Still, Harry cast a muffliato on them. “They probably are looking for the Deathly Hallows, or Hermione wants to prove to me they’re real. Or maybe she thinks she can undo the ritual Riddle did to regenerate his body. Or maybe they're trying to find Griphook for me. It could be any or all of those things. Or perhaps none. Maybe Ron grew a pair and decided he had to hunt down Death Eaters and Snatchers on his own. I doubt either has actually done any training since we had DA in fifth year. They’ll go against people with more experience and more spells at their disposal.”
He checked the consistency on his burn paste, then cracked another ashwinder egg into it. “Do you think this is my fault? If I had indulged them, given them something to do—”
“No,” Sirius said. “Arthur sent them a patronus, but they haven’t responded.”
“They might not know how to,” Harry said, stirring the cauldron.
The thick orange paste formed a bubble which popped, releasing steam tinged dark purple. Harry reduced the flame.
“I’m sure word’s already gone around the Order about what I did at Shell Cottage. I imagine Ron felt emasculated, or whatever his insecurity of the day is. It was probably the first time either had seen someone killed. Hermione tried to get me to stop while I was actively casting Fiendfyre. She could have killed me. She could have killed all of us.”
Harry laughed harshly. “I should have arranged for someone to send them school assignments. Had them study for N.E.W.T.s. That would have kept them busy.”
Sirius walked to stand next to him. “It’s not your responsibility. You’ve already taken a lot of initiative, you and Theo. The Order, other people who stand against Riddle, were lost without Dumbledore. You caught a phoenix and put your name behind my efforts with muggleborns and we’ve kept them safe. Not to mention all this,” he said, waving his arm at the boiling cauldrons. “Among other things. You can’t control how those two react to being excluded from your private life. If they’ve got it in their heads Dumbledore left them a mission, that’s on them.”
“The prophecy—”
“I don’t care about the prophecy,” Sirius said. “We could trap Riddle in an Egyptian tomb and he can live out his immortality there. It should be the adults’ responsibility to handle this. That our entire society is placing the burden on your shoulders is wrong. You know that. You’ve said similar things for years.”
Harry stared at the bubbling cauldron. “I feel like time’s running out. We need to capture Bellatrix.”
Sirius frowned. “I thought you and Theo had the room ready for her? Isn’t Dobby waiting for a time to grab her?”
“I asked him to find Griphook. Gringotts has some way of stripping enchantments from people, to prevent thieves from using potions or curses to control others. My plan was to have him get us in, then he could take us to the Lestrange vault.”
“Why would he do that?”
“Because she has something I suspect he wants, and I have the cloak to sneak us in. There’s no point in trying unless we know Hufflepuff’s Cup is there. If it isn’t, I don’t know what to do anymore. Kill him and wait until he’s resurrected again?”
“Yes,” Sirius said. “We’ll do exactly that. Rumors are he’s still abroad.”
“It’s embarrassing how long finding the Elder Wand is taking him,” Harry said. “I figured it out a week after Dumbledore died.”
“You know Riddle isn’t the type to ask people for help,” Sirius said. “He’ll order them, torture them, steal what he needs from their homes or their minds.”
“He thinks he’s some sort of god,” Harry said. “More than a man. That’s what he said to that muggle gardener before he killed him.”
“So,” Sirius said after a moment. “Bella?”
Harry nodded. “Let’s get this over with.”
Dobby took her from Malfoy Manor when she was asleep.
“Baby Potter,” she said, smiling toothily, eyes wide with excitement. She lifted an arm, testing the chains, then looked at him again. “You’ve grown claws!”
Harry was alone in the room with her. The door was closed. She sat in a simple wooden chair, as the others had been placed in, and was chained down. She was in a revealing nightdress, her hair braided and coiled up. Dobby had told them she slept with her wand in her hand, but he had easily taken it from her. All it took was a snap of his fingers.
The house-elf’s highest law is his Master’s bidding. No human magic could stand against it. Harry wondered if they had bound the house-elves for fear of their power. The reasons why and how were lost to time. They may never know.
Harry spelled the chains away from her left forearm, leaving it exposed.
“My great-grandmother was your aunt,” Harry said, looking at the dark mark. “We’re second cousins, I think. Bellatrix is a star in the Orion constellation, you know? Grandmother Walburga says she’ll give me a Black family name once I’ve earned it. Do you think pruning the family tree will do that?”
“I will be doing the pruning!” Bellatrix screeched. “My filthy halfbreed niece, that disgusting beast she married! They spread like a disease!”
Harry stepped closer to her. “You’ve let yourself be branded like cattle. You’re a disgrace. You, Narcissa, Draco.” Harry smiled at her. “Did you know Sirius named me as his heir? As did his grandfather, Arcturus? I’ve been living in our ancestral home since I was thirteen. You were rotting in Azkaban. Sirius managed to escape. You were too weak to do that on your own. You’re an embarrassment. You may have been born a Black, but you’ll die a Lestrange.”
Bellatrix snapped her teeth at him. “Let me go and we can really play, baby Potter.”
“I’m not interested in games, Bella,” Harry said, taking a step back and pointing his wand at her arm. He slashed it decisively through the air. “Sectumsempra!”
Deep cuts appeared at her elbow, one after the other. Blood fountained out, and her forearm fell to the floor with a fleshy thump. Harry burned the arm, dark mark and all, while Bellatrix screamed in pain and fury. With barely a thought, he directed flames at her stump, cauterizing the wound.
“Sorry,” he said over her whining. “I don’t know enough healing magic to properly deal with amputations. Are you going into shock?”
“The Dark Lord,” she panted, “he will kill you for this!”
“He’ll try to kill me anyway,” Harry said dismissively. “The more people he puts between us, the more will die. It just delays the inevitable.”
“I am honored above all!” Bellatrix shouted. “The Dark Lord’s fury is eternal! No one will escape his wrath!”
Harry laughed at her. “Then where is he? Where has he been all these months? He’s left you alone. He won’t be coming for you, Bella,” Harry said, pointing at the burnt and twisted thing her arm had been. “I killed Nagini and he just ran off again. You think—”
Bellatrix cackled. “You? Kill the Dark Lord’s familiar? You pathetic halfbreed scum! As if you could!”
Harry frowned at her. “I did kill her. I saw her body.”
Bellatrix kept laughing, and laughing. “She lives, you ignorant child! As if you could kill her!”
Unnerved, Harry reached into his pocket. He didn’t know how long she would remain conscious. He pulled out the fake Hufflepuff’s Cup Sirius had conjured.
“I know what will get you to shut up,” Harry said. “Do you recognize this?”
Harry held the cup out to her, and Bellatrix’s amusement vanished.
“Where did you get that?” she said in a low voice. “That was in my vault in Gringotts!” She lunged forward, the chains straining against the force of her anger. Her remaining hand flexed desperately. “How? How!”
“Thank you for confirming that,” Harry said, dangling the cup just out of reach. “Before I kill you, I want you to know the consequences of the mistake you just made. The fullness of your failure.”
Bellatrix looked frightened. It was an expression Harry had never thought to see on her.
“What are you afraid of? It can’t be pain, or death. Are you afraid of disappointing Tom?”
“Don’t call him that!”
“Aren’t you ashamed of debasing yourself for a halfblood?”
“You dare—you do not know the danger we are in!”
Harry grinned, twirling the fake cup around a finger. “Believe me, I do. I don’t know what Tom told you, but this cup is actually a horcrux. Have you heard of those?”
Bellatrix watched him, eyes welling with terror.
“It’s a piece of your Dark Lord’s soul, Bella. I’ve been looking for this thing for months. You see, I’ve destroyed all the others.”
Bellatrix screamed at him, thrashing violently. “No! No!”
“Yes,” Harry said. “You were my last chance. I needed to know if he had given this to you. And it turns out, you were the key to Tom Riddle’s defeat.”
“No!”
“Congratulations. You can die knowing you failed your Dark Lord, but also helping the heir of your family. It sort of cancels out, don’t you think?”
Harry watched her for a moment, watched this woman whose remaining threads of sanity were tied to service to her lord. It had all come undone.
“Neville Longbottom sends his regards. Avada Kedavra!”
All the owls came back unanswered.
It didn’t matter who Harry sent. Hedwig, Penumbra, Ranog, a hired post owl. Griphook wasn’t responding. He had considered sending a patronus, but was worried who else might overhear. He didn’t want to put too much information on parchment either.
“I can ask Fawkes to get him,” Harry said. Hedwig nibbled on his hair. “If he’ll do it. He isn’t much for random abductions.”
“We should go with my plan,” Sirius said. They were at Nott Manor, where all the owls were now. It wasn’t safe to send them out of London, so close to the Ministry.
“We have her hair and her wand,” Sirius said. “I can polyjuice into her.”
“It takes a month to brew.”
“Then we’ll buy it.”
“Where?” Harry asked. “Knockturn? You know Riddle’s people have a stranglehold there. Even stealing it would raise suspicions. I should have kept her alive.”
Sirius put an arm around his shoulders. “We’ve gone over this. She was more dangerous alive and captive than dead. Either way we couldn’t have let her go. None of us wanted to risk legilimency on her. She was an occlumens, and was insane, so trying to control her likely wouldn’t have worked. We can try with the Lestrange brothers. Rabastan has always been something of an idiot.”
“One of us still has to go with, to keep him under Imperius. You know what Bill said about the Thief’s Downfall. That’s the whole reason why we need a goblin to help. If it’s a random teller, they’ll know something is wrong. Then I’d have to Imperius two people…”
Harry closed his eyes. “There isn’t a single one of our allies who can go into Gringotts looking like ourselves. Otherwise we could just ask to be taken to our vault and Imperius a goblin after getting through all the traps. The problem would be getting out again.”
“The goblins aren’t allies of the Ministry or Riddle.”
“No,” Harry agreed, “but that doesn’t stop them from looking out for their own interests, from protecting themselves. Plenty of people would sell me out to save their own skins. If I could contact Griphook and make my offer. If he accepts. If I can sneak us in and get past their security…”
Sirius gave him a brief hug. “Let’s get you something to eat. We can test the invisibility cloak at Gringotts, then run through our options. If we have to Imperius every employee in there we’ll do that. If we have to tear down Gringotts brick by brick, we’ll do that. We’ll get into that vault, no matter what.”
At a loss, Harry started brewing polyjuice.
“Have you thought of bribing them?” Theo asked. Harry steadily shredded boomslang skin. They had to break into the Magical Menagerie for it. The snake was rather rude.
“That’s what I want to do with Griphook,” Harry said. “Bribe him with the sword of Gryffindor. He looked interested in it when I mentioned it to him, the summer before third year. I thought nothing of it at the time, I didn’t know it was goblin-made. What else do I have to offer?”
“Liberty,” Theo said. They’d hung a curtain over Phineas, and added silencing charms. No need for him, or Snape, or portrait Dumbledore to know they were planning a heist. “You’re an icon. You’re an ally of all peoples the Ministry has tried to oppress.”
“Yeah, but do they know that? It’s not like I’m planning a career in politics when this is over. All anyone really knows, or thinks they know, is that I survived the Killing Curse, told everyone Riddle was back, and that I was seen at the Ministry after the Hall of Prophecy was broken into. And that I’m Undesirable Number One, a fragrance by Dolores Umbridge.”
Theo hugged Harry from behind, making it more difficult for him to work. “There’s only been one recorded break-in.”
“Yeah, Quirrell broke into an empty vault, and we have no idea how he did that, or how he got away. Imperius and memory charms. There really should be more defenses against both, those spells are so easily abused.”
“Most people can’t even cast them,” Theo murmured into his hair. “And there is always a battle of wills. It seems easy to you because you are talented at both.”
“That’s lovely,” Harry said, adding the shredded snakeskin to the cauldron. “I have a talent for manipulating people, just like my heroes.”
Harry felt Theo’s smile. “It’s an adaptive talent. You had to learn to stay a few steps ahead of them in order to survive. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. Shall I list your other skills? Perhaps this calls for a demonstration.”
“Please don’t,” Harry mumbled, blushing. “I need to concentrate.”
“A twelve year old Granger brewed this in a girls’ toilet,” Theo said, turning him around. He peeled a lacefly wing from Harry’s cheek, then brushed his sweaty hair back. Harry had been laboring over the potion for hours. “You could use some distraction.”
Harry stepped out of Gringotts, breathing a sigh of relief. It had been insanely risky, but he had to know that the cloak would work. From Bill’s notes, they had a general idea of what the bank’s defenses were, what his goblin coworkers were like, who they might be able to sway to their side. What they didn’t know was what kind of defenses the Ministry had added. No one had noticed him in the lobby, at least.
They had run their own tests on the Cloak of Invisibility. Harry knew it didn’t work with the Marauder’s Map, since Lupin had found him one night. He’d dug up Moody’s eye, which could also see through the cloak. As Padfoot, Sirius had been able to sniff him out. He could be heard if he walked too loudly, or spoke. They ran through every detection spell they knew. The cloak couldn’t be summoned, nor damaged by most magical means. Not wanting to destroy it, they limited their testing to basic hexes. The cloak itself was resistant to spells, but whatever it concealed was not. The spell to reveal human presence had found Harry easily.
The invisibility it imparted was, they judged, limited to someone actually looking at them with their natural eyes. Whether that be a human, an animagus, or a goblin. Harry recalled Dumbledore’s warning in third year that dementors were indifferent to invisibility. They had no eyes, after all.
Harry took one last look at the bank, then hurried down a side street to apparate home. Before could, Dobby appeared at his side.
“Harry Po—”
Harry slapped his hand over the house-elf’s mouth and dragged him under the cloak, quickly apparating them away, not paying mind to his destination. He found himself on a hill overlooking Luna’s house. He was happy to see it was still intact, though the dirigible plum bushes had been burned away. Lupin’s spells must have held.
“What is it, Dobby?” Harry asked. “You need to be more careful! I was in Diagon Alley.”
“Dobby has found Harry Potter’s Wheezy and Grangy!”
“You what?”
Harry sat down with a thump, still covered with the cloak. Winter was almost over. The chill lingered in the air, though this far south the grass was already green. Flowers would soon be back in bloom. The plimpies would be leaping out of the streams.
“Wheezy and Grangy! Dobby and Winky were looking for the goblin Griphook, and we saw them!”
“That’s great, Dobby!” Harry said, even as he was annoyed Hermione and Ron had gone traipsing off to find Griphook. He wondered how they’d managed it.
“There was another goblin too,” Dobby said, “but the Snatchers killed him.”
Harry jerked his head up. “I’m sorry, did you say Snatchers?”
Dobby nodded gravely. “They were taken to the evil wizards.”
“Which evil wizards?” Harry asked. “Where is Winky?”
“Winky went to Harry Potter’s home to tell the others. Wheezy and Grangy were taken by the werewolf. To Malfoy Manor.”
Harry scrambled up again. “No. Greyback found them? Did he know who they were?”
“Wheezy said his name was Stan Shunpike, and Grangy said her name was Penelope Clearwater. But they knew Stan Shunpike, and knew he was a Wheezy.”
“This is bad, Dobby. But we can get them out of the Manor. You got Luna and Ollivander out. When did this happen?”
“Dobby came as soon as the werewolf took them away.”
Harry tried to calm himself down. If they knew it was Ron, they would guess who Hermione was. She was in the most danger. It was the middle of the day, and a glance at his watch told him it wasn’t a full moon. Greyback could still hurt her though. Badly.
“We don’t have time,” Harry said. “Take me to the dungeon at Malfoy Manor.”
Dobby left him in the middle of a nightmare. Harry barely had time to register what was going on. Ron was screaming for Hermione. Hermione was screaming somewhere above them while a man laughed. He could hear people arguing.
“What was that?” shouted a man. “Did you hear that? What was that noise in the cellar?”
“Hermione!” Ron bellowed.
“Shut him up, Wormtail!” someone else shouted.
Harry heard someone groaning behind him. Griphook was on the ground, unconscious. Someone was coming.
Harry took a breath, and held his wand steady.
Pettigrew was hobbling down the stairs. He was filthy, his hair a rat’s nest, his clothes ragged and torn. Whatever favor he’d gained from the resurrection ritual had been long since spent. His silver hand gleamed in the dim light.
“Stand back,” he said to Ron. “Against the wall!”
Ron backed away, eyes wild. Harry noted he looked pretty bad off too.
“Wake the goblin!” a woman shouted. “This sword is meant to be in my sister’s vault! Will you now deny that she has been taken, Lucius?” Narcissa said. “We must call—”
“No! He would kill us all!”
As Pettigrew stepped into the cellar, Harry stunned him. He stunned Ron too, just to shut him up.
“Dobby,” Harry whispered, and the house-elf reappeared. “Put Pettigrew in the cellar at Nott House, the room with the ward on it. Take Ron and Griphook to separate bedrooms on the second floor. I’ll send Theo there to deal with them. When you’re done, meet me upstairs.”
Dobby nodded, took his charges, and vanished. Harry quickly cast a patronus and sent it to Theo. He had to get Hermione.
“Wormtail? What’s going on down there?”
Harry silently made his way out of the cellar. It really was more of a dungeon, given the bars and the prisoners. He reached the top of the stairs, walked down the passageway, and froze for a moment.
Hermione was bloody and splayed out on the middle of the floor. Harry spotted Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy arguing with Greyback over the sword. He watched Narcissa as she strangled Greyback with a conjured whip, then yanked the sword away from him.
“You dare raise a hand to my wife!” Lucius shouted. “In my own house!”
Harry crept forward and bent over Hermione. Greyback had gone for her neck, and she was bleeding sluggishly from her wounds. He reached into a pocket, finding one of the potions he always kept with him now, eyes darting to make sure he hadn’t been spotted, even under his cloak. He tipped dittany over Hermione’s neck, and the torn skin began to sizzle and repair itself. She was still breathing, just barely.
Lucius and Narcissa were busy arguing with the Snatchers over the sword, and who would get credit for finding Ron and Hermione. Harry needed that sword. He had no idea how they had come across it, or why it wasn’t in the Lestrange vault. Maybe Theo was right, and Snape had given her a replica.
Only a true Gryffindor could call the sword in times of need. This was a time of need, and Harry had called it once before. Raising his wand, he silently summoned the sword.
The sword of Gryffindor tore out of Narcissa’s hands and flew to him. Surprised, Harry managed to catch it, then fell over Hermione. “Dobby!”
It was too fast for them to react. Dobby appeared with a resounding crack, loudly defiant of his old masters, seized Harry and Hermione, and apparated them away.
Harry sat in Andromeda’s living room, the sword of Gryffindor across his lap.
“She’ll live,” Andromeda said, joining him. It had been hours since their flight from Malfoy Manor. Harry hoped he hadn’t been seen, but it didn’t matter much. Hermione not dying had been the bigger priority. The Malfoys were more concerned with the sword than the girl bleeding on their parquet.
“She’s lost quite a lot of blood,” Andromeda continued. “You’ve shown impressive foresight in keeping potions on hand.”
Harry breathed out in relief, looking at the sword. The ruby in its hilt sparkled at him. “I couldn’t…I can’t believe this. Why did they go on the run? They didn’t have to. Hermione didn’t have to get hurt. She could have gone with her parents…”
Tonks came out, a tray of tea and biscuits floating behind her. It wobbled slightly. She was due in about two months. Lupin was likely skulking around the house, finally realizing his pregnant wife wanted him, and needed him, around.
“She’s safe now,” Andromeda said consolingly. “She’ll have scars, but she survived. You saved her.”
“Dobby saved her,” Harry corrected. “We wouldn’t even know what happened to her without him.”
“Have a cuppa, Haz,” Tonks said, pushing a cup at him and sitting down heavily at his side. “You’ll feel better after.” She gave him a gentle squeeze and settled back with a handful of biscuits.
“I doubt it,” Harry said, but drank his tea anyway. “Is it safe for her to stay here? I know Lupin’s moved in.”
“It will be fine,” Andromeda assured him. She didn’t look much like either of her sisters. She was kind, for one. And while there was a resemblance to Bellatrix—Harry felt a sinking sense of guilt when he realized he hadn’t told Andromeda he had tortured and killed one of her sisters, and would never do so if he could avoid it—he had met Andromeda first. If anything, Bellatrix had looked like a warped version of Andromeda.
“She just needs rest now,” Tonks said. “And we get plenty of that here,” she added with a pout.
“Nymphadora…”
“Mum!”
“Fine, Dora…”
Harry smiled a little from behind his cup, watching mother and daughter interact. He knew they both missed Ted. There weren’t even any portraits of him up, they had to maintain the pretense of cutting all ties. They didn’t know where he was. It was safer that way.
Harry finished his tea, and was surprised to find he did feel better. “I need to meet up with the others,” he said. “See how Ron’s doing, then get him back to his family.”
“You should come by more often,” Tonks said.
“You know why I can’t,” Harry said, closing his eyes. “It’s best if people forget we’re family.”
“One day,” Andromeda said sadly.
Harry made his farewells, then went to the back garden to apparate.
It was always one day. One day he’d get away from the Dursleys. One day Theo’s father would die. One day Harry would finish Voldemort for good. But as that unknown day grew closer, Harry’s dread likewise grew.
Something wasn’t right. The horcruxes. The snake. The message engraved on the snitch. The pieces weren’t quite fitting together. Harry was afraid of what would be revealed when they finally did.
Harry went to speak with Ron first. Once he had woken up, he had tried to run off again. Theo had trapped him in a room. Without his wand, Ron had no way out.
“Where’s Hermione?” he demanded as soon as Harry closed the door. Ron had been placed in one of the guest suites, which was much more well appointed than Theo’s old room had been. Any guests would have been welcome, unlike the son of Thaddeus Nott’s spirited young wife.
Ron stood up, marching towards Harry as if to shake the answer out of him. Harry held up his wand.
“Calm down, she’s—”
“Calm down? What have you done to her?” Ron shouted.
Harry was done. He’d put up with Ron’s shit attitude for years. He didn’t have to anymore. So he silenced him and tied him up.
“You listen to me, Ronald Weasley,” Harry said, stepping over to where he flailed on the floor. “I’ve only just bloody saved her from getting killed by Greyback, or worse! Yeah,” he said, as Ron’s eyes widened. “That’s what your little adventure got you. Picked up by Snatchers, Hermione bleeding out in the Malfoy’s dining room. Was it fun for you? Your side quest? Thought you were going to be the hero for once? You can’t even hold on to your own wand.”
Harry crouched down next to him. “Hermione’s with a healer right now. She’s going to recover. You’ll be taken back to your family, and you’ll stay there if you know what’s good for you. You haven’t got a wand, and I’m not inclined to ask Ollivander to make you another. You’ve only ever been a mediocre wizard, and that’s all you’ll ever be.”
Harry stood up again. “I’d like to know how you came across the sword of Gryffindor, but I already have my suspicions. I can ask Hermione when she wakes up. It doesn’t matter much, I had my own plans to acquire it. You’ve only saved me a trip. I won’t thank you for that, since it came at the expense of Hermione getting her throat ripped out. Dobby?”
“Yes, Harry Potter?”
Theo had found some Fair Isle knitwear for him, and shrunken it down, though Dobby was still fond of wearing multiple hats.
“You did an amazing job today. You saved the lives of three people.”
“Dobby was just—”
“You’re a fantastic person, Dobby. As long as I’ve known you, you’ve looked out for me and my friends. Not that Ron’s a friend…but the point still stands.”
Dobby started crying, and threw himself at Harry’s legs. Harry glared at Ron.
“Dobby risked himself to track you down, and to get you out of Malfoy Manor. You owe him your life, as far as I’m concerned. Maybe your mum can finally knock some sense into that thick skull of yours, and you’ll leave off trying to throw it away for a lark. So what if your family was poor? At least you had a family! You were never starved, your clothes fit, you had people who loved you and cared about you. I never understood why you were jealous of me. I was the one who was jealous of you.”
Harry closed his eyes for a moment. “Please take Ron to his Aunt Muriel’s house. Leave him on the porch, I don’t care.”
Dobby grabbed the still tied-up Ron and vanished. Harry looked at the spot they had been, shook his head, and left the room.
It took several days for Griphook to recover and be willing to speak. He had been injured when the Snatchers caught them, and without knowing much about goblin physiology they had healed him as best as they could.
Harry was sitting next to the long fireplace in the main hall of Nott Manor when Griphook approached him.
“You’ve been looking for me,” Griphook said, sitting down next to him.
“How are you feeling?” Harry asked, staring into the flames. Fair Isle was still clinging onto winter, and it was a cold day.
“Better than I have been,” Griphook said. “The house-elf saved us.”
“Dobby,” Harry said. “He’s a free elf.”
“An oxymoron,” Griphook said. “Why have you sought me out?”
“I need to break into a vault,” Harry said. “It would be easier with someone willingly cooperating.”
“Break into a Gringotts vault?” Griphook sneered. “This is impossible.”
“I doubt that,” Harry said. “I can’t imagine you’d let people have vaults if you didn’t have free access to them.”
“You have no chance. No chance at all. If you seek beneath our floors, a treasure that was never yours…”
“Thief, you have been warned, beware, of finding more than treasure there,” Harry finished. “I recall. It’s not treasure I seek, nor is it for personal gain. The object in question does not belong to the owners of the vault, but was given to them in trust. Nor did it belong to the person who gave it to them. It was stolen. The warning is not for someone like me.”
Griphook watched him for a moment, his black eyes glittering in the firelight. Harry met his gaze, wondering what it was Griphook saw.
“You name house-elves as friends. You’ve never shown anything but respect to both goblins and elves, and have extended your home and protection to us. If there was a wizard of whom I would believe that they did not seek personal gain, it would be you, Harry Potter.”
“What have I to gain?” Harry asked, looking back into the flames. “The Dark Lord chose me, you know. The only escape, the only absolution, is his destruction.”
Griphook narrowed his eyes. “Which vault?”
“Lestrange.”
The goblin cackled. “Madness. They protect their wealth well.”
“Do you know what I did, after my meeting with you five years ago? I went to find a house I could live in.” Harry looked at Griphook again. “I found the ancestral Black family home. I’ve been living there ever since. I doubt the Lestranges have placed any spells I can’t unravel. The issue is getting in and getting out.”
Griphook tugged at his beard. “It is against our code to speak of the secrets of Gringotts. We are the guardians of fabulous treasures. We have a duty to the objects placed in our care, which were, so often, wrought by our fingers.”
“This particular item wasn’t,” Harry said. “But I do have something that may interest you.”
“Gold?” Griphook asked. “I have no need for gold.”
“No,” Harry said. “I have the true sword of Gryffindor. A sword with which I slew a basilisk.”
Griphook’s eyes pierced Harry. “You knew the one in the Lestrange vault was a fake.”
“I’ve held the sword before,” Harry said, shrugging. “I knew when I took it from Narcissa Malfoy.” If Griphook didn’t understand the magic Godric Gryffindor had imbued in the sword, Harry wasn’t going to share that it had never truly mattered where the sword was.
“These are the terms of my bargain,” Harry said. “You aid me in entering the Lestrange vault without alerting anyone to our presence, and in similarly exiting the bank, in exchange for the sword. Discretion is vital to this. I doubt either of us wants to bring down the Ministry or the whole of Gringotts on us.”
“Where is the sword now?” Griphook asked. “What proof do you have that it is in your possession?”
“Kreacher?”
Kreacher appeared next to him, holding the sword with a faint look of disgust. “Almost every member of the Black family has sorted Slytherin,” Harry explained, watching as Griphook ran a hand over the sword. “Except for me and Sirius. And Tonks, she was Hufflepuff. Thank you, Kreacher.”
The house-elf left again, taking the sword with. “It’s being kept under Fidelius,” Harry said. “Under my personal protection.”
“I will have to think about this,” Griphook said, standing up.
“I’ll wait,” Harry said. “But not long. If this doesn’t work, I have no issue with actually breaking things to get into that vault. If you have a duty to the objects left in the care of Gringotts, I hope you make the right decision.”
“Listeners, we have some fantastic news!” Lee Jordan said through the wireless. “As you know, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger have been missing for several weeks. Ron’s family has been sick with worry…”
“Do we have to listen?” Harry asked. He had only come to the Tonkses’ house to talk to Hermione.
“Shh, Remus is going to be on soon!”
“...and Romulus is here with an update. Romulus?”
“Thank you, River. We’ve recently learned that Ron and Hermione had been caught by Snatchers, along with two goblins. Sadly one of the goblins, Gornuk, was killed. I am told the other one, Griphook, has been relocated to a safehouse.”
“And a brave house-elf named Dobby was the one who saved them?” Lee asked.
“That’s right, River. They were taken to Malfoy Manor. Unfortunately, Hermione was attacked by Fenrir Greyback. Her recovery is slow, but she will fully recover. It was not the full moon, so thankfully she wasn’t turned.”
“Fabulous! And I’m told it was Harry Potter who personally orchestrated this rescue mission?”
“He did. He went to the manor himself and gave Hermione emergency care.”
“You heard it here! Harry’s still out there, fighting the good fight! Harry, if you’re listening, we all support you! I wish I could’ve seen the look on Snape’s face when you dropped in on the Hufflepuff-Ravenclaw match…”
Harry left Tonks listening to Potterwatch with a goofy expression. Maybe it was werewolf pheromones.
He knocked on the door to Hermione’s recovery room and heard her faintly call him in. She was sitting up in bed, bandages wrapped around her neck and chest. Greyback had clawed her face too, and the wounds were coated in a mixture of silver and dittany Harry had made himself.
Hermione had a book open on her lap but wasn’t reading it. She looked up at Harry, and her dark eyes began to tear up.
“Harry…”
“I’m sorry,” Harry said. He found a chair and carried it over to sit next to her.
“It’s not your fault,” she sobbed, tears falling onto her book.
Harry knew that.
He felt like a hypocrite. He hadn’t let much stand between him and getting information he wanted.
But he wasn’t keeping things from Hermione that were about her. He didn’t trust her, hadn’t for years, and her recent actions proved exactly why. She took the smallest piece of information—Harry wanting to contact Griphook—and it nearly led to her death, to the exposure of the fact Harry thought Griphook was important. She had put herself, Ron, and Harry’s entire mission in jeopardy. All for nothing. Her adventure had ended with a dead goblin and a mutilated girl.
Hermione continued to cry as she explained herself. How she and Ron wanted to help. How they traveled cross country to find Griphook, with no clear plan in mind. How the Snatchers had found them, then Griphook and Gornuk, and decided to take them all together to Malfoy Manor. Gornuk was killed while fighting. Hermione would get her wish. She’d be able to see thestrals now.
“How did you two find the sword?”
Hermione perked up and wiped her tears away. “It was the strangest thing.”
Hermione told him how one evening, as they were camping in the Forest of Dean, a silver doe had appeared. She led them to a frozen pool, and the sword lay at the bottom. Ron dove in to retrieve it.
Harry concluded it must have been Snape, and Snape’s patronus. How he had found Hermione and Ron, Harry wasn’t sure. Dumbledore had all sorts of strange devices in his office. It was probably the seemingly useless Deluminator. Or Snape could have dumped the sword somewhere and simply had his patronus guide them, without care for the location. It didn’t matter.
“We thought it might be you,” Hermione said quietly.
“My patronus is a crow. Or a raven. Some kind of corvid,” Harry said.
“Oh. Where is the sword?”
“In a safe location, which is what we need to discuss for you.” Harry pulled a piece of parchment out. “Now, these are your options…”
Harry had yet to meet a Death Eater who wasn’t, at their core, afraid of Voldemort.
Pettigrew was currently pretending to be a rat, cowering in a corner of the room he was detained in.
“Let me have him,” Sirius said coolly. “I’ve been dreaming of what I’d do to him for years.”
“Don’t kill him,” Harry said.
“What? Why not?”
“Because Riddle will know.”
Sirius turned to him, confused. “How? He didn’t know about the other Death Eaters we’ve killed.”
Harry was grateful Sirius had said we. Harry wasn’t even eighteen yet, and his body count was already in double digits.
“Because of the Fidelius charm,” Harry explained. “When he dies, everyone else who knows the secret becomes a Secret-Keeper. That’s me, you, and Riddle. He’ll know as soon as Pettigrew dies because he will feel the spell acting on him.”
“Right,” Sirius said. “I won’t kill him. Yet.”
Harry nodded, and left Sirius to do whatever he had planned for Pettigrew. He’d had sixteen years to think about it, after all.
Harry left the cellar, and was surprised to see Griphook waiting for him at the top of the stairs.
“Did you need something?” Harry asked.
Griphook bared his sharp teeth in a smile. “I’m ready to talk.”