First half of book:
https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003829962
Previous Chapters:
https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003833123
https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003838588
https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003840013
https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003841380
https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003842029
https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003842653
Tags:
@SaphireStark @Missy Clara Oswald @CatsAndRoblox @Pervaza972 @Mega.mind.harry.potter
Chapter Twenty-Five: Gringotts
(I changed the canon slightly on how the two curses in the vault work, it was the best option for how I want to depict this chapter.)
Their plans were made, their preparations complete; in the smallest bedroom a single long, coarse black hair (plucked from the sweater Tracey had been wearing at Malfoy Manor that she insisted was not her own or Allison’s) lay curled in a small glass phial on the mantelpiece.
‘You’ll have to switch wands until we’re securely inside so that Allison has Bellatrix’s,’ said Harry on the eve before they broke into Gringotts, nodding toward the walnut wand, ‘with it I reckon you’ll be pretty convincing.’
Tracey looked frightened that the wand might sting or bite her as she picked it up.
‘Good, I hate this thing,’ she said in a low voice. ‘It literally tortured me, it feels wrong in my hand, and it resists me when I do spells. I’ll be happy to use the cedar wand for a few hours.’
‘Just as long as you’re careful in return,’ said Allison in a kind but warning tone. ‘Fairy wing core wands can be…unpredictable.’
‘I’ll be ok, Alli, besides, you having her wand will probably help you get into character,’ said Tracey. ‘Just try and channel the actions of the wand.’
‘I don’t really want to do that at all if I can avoid it,’ admitted Allison. ‘This wand has hurt so many, including people we know. It hurt you, tortured poor Neville’s parents into insanity, and this is the wand that killed Sirius!’
Harry had not thought of that: He looked down at the wand and was visited by a brutal urge to snap it into several pieces, then burn what remained in the hottest fire he could make.
‘Sorry,’ said Allison when she saw Harry’s expression, ‘I just miss my old wand, my mother spent days working on it for me when I was about to turn eleven. I worked hard on my new one, but it just isn’t the same.’
‘I miss mine too, I hate the thought of it still being at Malfoy Manor, possibly being used by Bellatrix as a replacement for this one,’ said Tracey holding up the walnut wand.
‘Mine as well,’ said Theodore. ‘But maybe when this is all over Mr Ollivander will make the three of us new wands too, maybe you too Allison if you want.’
Mr Ollivander had sent Luna a new wand that morning. She was out on the back lawn at that moment, testing its capabilities in the late afternoon sun. Dean, who had lost his wand to the Snatchers, was watching rather gloomily.
Harry looked down at the hawthorn wand that had once belonged to Draco Malfoy. He had been surprised, but pleased to discover that it worked for him at least as well as Tracey’s had done. Remembering what Ollivander had told them of the secret workings of wands, Harry thought he knew what Tracey’s problem was: She had not won the walnut wand’s allegiance by taking it personally from Bellatrix, Allison had, and the little disarming stunt she had made Tracey do hadn’t broken the wands loyalty.
The door of the bedroom opened and Griphook entered. Harry reached instinctively by rolling his eyes, but regretted his action at once. He could tell that the goblin had noticed. Seeking to gloss over the sticky moment, he said, ‘We’ve just been checking the last-minute stuff, Griphook. We’ve told Tonks and Tulip we’re leaving tomorrow, and we’ve told them not to get up to see us off.’
They had been firm on this point, because Allison needed to transform in Bellatrix before they left and Theodore take a large dose of Aging Potion, and the less that Tonks and Tulip knew or suspected about what they were about to do, the better. They had also explained that they would not be returning. As they had lost Theodore’s tent on the night that the Snatcher’s caught them, Tonks had lent them another one. It was now packed inside the purse, which, Allison had snatched back before they Apparated away from Malfoy Manor. They said their goodbyes early in the evening of the night before, it was hard, but necessary.
Though he would miss Tonks, Tulip, Luna, Dean, and baby Teddy, not to mention the home comforts they had enjoyed over the last couple weeks, Harry was looking forward to escaping the confinement of the cottage. He was tired of trying to make sure that they were not overheard, tired of being shut in the tiny, dark bedroom. Most of all, he longed to be rid of Griphook.
However, precisely when they would part from the Goblin after successfully entering Bellatrix’s vault was still unknown. It had been impossible to decide when that would be, because the goblin rarely left Harry, Theodore, Allison, and Tracey alone together for more than five minutes at a time. With Bill’s warning in mind, Harry could not help suspecting that Griphook was planning something.
Harry slept badly that night. Lying awake in the early hours, he thought back to the way he had felt the night before they had infiltrated the Ministry of Magic and remembered a determination, almost an excitement. Now he was experiencing jolts of anxiety nagging doubts: He could not shake off the fear that it was all going to go wrong. He kept telling himself that their plan was good, that Griphook knew what they were facing, that they were well-prepared for all the difficulties they were likely to encounter, yet still he felt uneasy. Once or twice he heard Theodore stir and was sure that he too was awake, but they were sharing the sitting room with Dean, so Harry did not speak.
It was a relief when six o’clock arrived and they could slip out of their sleeping bags, dress in the semidarkness, Theodore took the potion he had made, then creep out into the garden, where they were to meet Allison, Tracey, and Griphook.
The dawn was chilly, but there was little wind now that it was May. Harry looked up at the stars still glimmering palely in the dark sky and listened to the wind whistling through the forest and nearby farmlands: He was going to miss the sound.
Small green shoots were forcing their way up through the red earth of Dobby’s grave now, in a year’s time the mound would be covered in flowers. The white stone that bore the elf’s name had already acquired a weathered look. He realized now that they could hardly have laid Dobby to rest in a more beautiful place, but Harry ached with sadness to think of leaving him behind. Looking down on the grave, he wondered yet again how the elf had known where to come to rescue them. His fingers moved absentmindedly to the little pouch still strung around his neck, thorough which he could feel the jagged mirror fragment in which he had been sure he had seen Dumbledore’s eye. Then the sound of a door opening made him look around.
Bellatrix Lestrange was striding across the lawn toward them, accompanied by Griphook and Tracey who tucked her purse into her robe’s pocket. Griphook had a small bag over his shoulder currently holding the tiara and would carry the helmet once they entered the vault. Allison was wearing the black Snatcher-like robes she had worn when she had saved him from the locket. Though Harry knew perfectly well that it was really his girlfriend, he could not suppress a shiver of loathing.
She was taller than he was, her long curly black hair rippling down her back, her heavily lidded eyes disdainful as they rested upon him; but then she spoke, and he could hear some of Allison’s mannerisms through Bellatrix’s low voice.
‘She tastes absolutely revolting, I was afraid that I would throw the potion back up. Oh Theo, you look terrible too…’
‘I feel terrible too.’
Harry looked to his foster brother and saw that the large dose of Aging Potion had taken effect. Theodore was now sporting silvery white hair and matching long beard, and had a weathered old face covered in liver spots. He greatly resembled his father, but unlike Allison’s disguise it wasn’t perfect. His eyes weren’t quite the same shape as his father's, and Theodore’s skin was a couple shades darker. To combat this he was wearing very old robes taken from Orion Black’s closet in Grimmauld Place, and a black fancy cloak with a hood that he now pulled up to encase his head in partial shadow.
So Theodore and Allison were supposed to go in as Morgan Nott and Bellatrix Lestrange, and they were trusting to the malevolent aura cast by Bellatrix to protect her and Theo. Meanwhile Harry, Tracey, and Griphook were to be concealed under the Invisibility Cloak.
‘How do I look?’ asked Allison.
‘Not my type, but it’s what’s on the inside that counts,’ said Harry cheekily. ‘You both look the part. Shall we go, then?’
All four of them glanced back at Shell Cottage, lying dark and silent under the fading stars, then turned and began to walk toward the point, just beyond the boundary wall, where the Fidelius Chard stopped working and they would be able to Disapparate. Once past the gate, Griphook spoke.
‘I should climb up now, Harry Potter, I think?’
Harry bent down and the goblin clambered onto his back, his hands linked on front of Harry’s throat. He was not heavy, but Harry disliked the feeling of the goblin and the surprising strength with which he clung on. Tracey pulled the Invisibility Cloak out of her purse and threw it over herself, Harry, and Griphook.
‘Brilliant,’ said Theodore, slowly bending down to check Harry and Tracey’s feet. ‘You three are completely invisible. We’re ready.’
Harry turned on the spot, with Griphook on his shoulders and Tracey holding onto his arm, concentrating with all his might on the Leaky Cauldron, the inn that was the entrance to Diagon Alley. The goblin clung even tighter as they moved into the compressing darkness, and seconds later Harry’s feet found pavement and he opened his eyes on Charing Cross Road. Muggles bustled past wearing the hangdog expressions of early morning, quite unconscious of the little inn’s existence.
The bar of the Leaky Cauldron was nearly deserted. Tom, the kind stooped and toothless landlord, was polishing glasses behind the bar counter miserably; a couple of warlocks having a muttered conversation in the far corner glanced at Allison and Theodore and drew back into the shadows.
‘Madam Lestrange, Mr Nott,’ murmured Tom, and as the two paused he inclined his head subserviently. This seemed to take Allison off guard.
‘Morning,’ she said, and as Harry crept past with Tracey, still carrying Griphook piggyback under the Cloak, he saw Tom look surprised.
‘She is a cruel witch, you have to be convincing,’ Harry heard Theodore whisper as they all passed out of the Inn into the tiny backyard. ‘My voice will give me away, so you have to do the talking for the both of us.’
‘She’s doing the best she can,’ whispered back Tracey.
‘No he’s right, I was being stupid. I can’t just play off of what others say,’ said Allison, agreeing with Theodore. ‘I have to give responses that match what she would do.
Allison drew out Bellatrix’s wand and rapped a brick in the nondescript wall in front of them. At once the bricks began to whirl and spin: A hole appeared in the middle of them, which grew wider and wider, finally forming an archway onto the narrow cobbled street that was Diagon Alley.
It was quiet, barely time for the shops to open, and there were hardly any shoppers abroad. The crooked, cobbled street was much altered now from the bustling place Harry had visited before his first term at Hogwarts so many years before. More shops than ever were boarded up, though several new establishments dedicated to the Dark Arts had been created since his last visit. Harry’s own face glared down at him from posters plastered over many windows, always captioned with the words:
“Undesirable Number One!”
A number of ragged people sat huddled in doorways. He heard them moaning to the few passersby, pleading for gold, insisting that they were really wizards. One man had a bloody bandage over his eye.
As they set off along the street, the beggars glimpsed Allison and Theodore. They seemed to melt away before them, drawing hoods over their faces and fleeing as fast as they could. Theodore looked after them curiously, until the man with the bloodied bandage came staggering right across her path.
‘My children,’ he bellowed, pointing at her. His voice was cracked, high-pitched, he sounded distraught. ‘Where are my children? What has he done with them? You know, you know!’
‘Er–excuse me—‘ said Allison with some attitude, but Harry could tell there was still some hesitation in her voice.
The man lunged at her, reaching for her throat. Then, with a bang and a burst of red light he was thrown backward onto the ground, unconscious. Theodore stood there, Wormtail’s wand still outstretched, and even behind the shadow of his hood Harry could tell it pained him to stun an innocent man.
Faces appeared at the windows on either side of the street, while a little knot of prosperous-looking passerby gathered their robes about them and broke into gentle trots, keen to vacate the scene. Their entrance into Diagon Alley could hardly have been more conspicuous; for a moment Harry wondered whether it might not be better to leave now and try to think of a different plan. Before they could move or consult one another, however, they heard a cry from behind them.
‘Why, Nott, Madam Lestrange!’
Harry whirled around and Griphook tightened his hold around Harry’s neck: A tall, thin wizard with a crown of bushy gray hair and a long, sharp nose was striding toward them.
‘It’s Travers,’ hissed the goblin into Harry’s ear, but at that moment Harry could not think who Travers was. Allison had drawn herself up to full height and said with as much contempt as she could muster:
‘It’s early, what do you want?’
Travers stopped in his tracks, clearly affronted.
‘He’s another Death Eater!’ breathed Griphook, and Harry sidled sideways to repeat the information into the other two’s ears.
‘I merely sought to greet you both,’ said Travers coolly, ‘but if my presence is not welcome…’
Harry recognized his voice now: Travers was one of the Death Eaters who had been summoned to Xenophilius’ house.
‘No, you may walk with us if you wish,’ said Allison as calmly as she could, trying to cover up her mistake. ‘What is on your mind?’
‘Well, I confess I am surprised to see you out and about, Bellatrix.’
‘And why is that?’ asked Allison.
‘Well,’ Travers coughed, ‘I heard that the Inhabitants of Malfoy Manor were confined to the house, after the…ah…escape.’
Harry willed his two friends to keep their heads. If this was true, and Bellatrix was not supposed to be out in public, then they were potentially in great danger. Thankfully Allison and Theodore were the right people for the job.
‘Ha!’ cackled Theodore sarcastically.
‘For my impenitent brother-in-law and his Half-breed son perhaps,’ said Allison in a magnificent imitation of Bellatrix’s most contemptuous manner. ‘I am the Dark Lord’s most loyal servant however. That gives me privileges you can not fathom. It would do you good not to believe every rumour you hear.’
Though the Death Eater looked offended, he also seemed less suspicious. He glanced down at the man Theodore had just Stunned.
‘How did it offend you?’
‘It tried to talk to me when it should have known it was the dirt beneath my feet,’ said Allison coolly.
‘Some of these wandless can be troublesome,’ said Travers. ‘While they do nothing but beg I have no objection, but one of them actually asked me to plead her case in the Ministry last week. "I’m a witch, sir, I’m a witch, let me prove it to you!”’ he said in a squeaky impersonation. ‘As if I was going to give her my wand—but whose wand,’ said Travers curiously, ‘are you using at the moment, Bellatrix? I heard that your own was—‘
‘I have my wand here,’ said Allison coldly, holding up Bellatrix’s wand. ‘You have been played for a fool, Travers, all this misinformation fed to you that you didn’t think twice about.’
Travers seemed a little taken aback at that, and he turned instead to Theodore.
‘And why are you out and about so early today, Nott.’
‘Humph,’ Theodore grumbled, hoping his nonverbal response would be intimidating enough for Travers not to speak to him again.
‘Same as you, bothering me as I try and go about my business,’ said Allison, bringing the attention back to herself.
‘Er-so what does brings you and to Diagon Alley this early?’ asked Travers.
‘I need to visit Gringotts,’ said Allison simply.
‘Alas, I also,’ said Travers. ‘Gold, filthy gold! We cannot live without it, yet I confess I deplore the necessity of consorting with our long-fingered friends.’
Harry felt Griphook’s clasped hands tighten momentarily around his neck.
‘Shall we?’ said Travers, gesturing the other two forward.
They had no choice, Theodore gave a half nod to Travers, and then they both fell into step beside him and head along the crooked, cobbled street toward the place where the snowy-white Gringotts stood towering over the other little shops. Harry, Tracey, and Griphook followed.
A watchful Death Eater was the very last thing they needed, and the worst of it was, with Travers matching at what he believed to be Bellatrix’s side, there was no safe means for Harry to communicate with Allison or Theodore. All too soon they arrived at the foot of the marble steps leading up to the great bronze doors. As Griphook had already warned them, the liveried goblins who usually flanked the entrance had been replaced by two wizards, both of whom were clutching long thin golden rods.
‘Ah, Probity Probes,’ signed Travers theatrically, ‘so crude—but so effective!’
And he set off up the steps, nodding left and right to the wizards, who raised the golden rods and passed them up and down his body. The Probes, Harry knew, detected spells of concealment and hidden magical objects. Knowing that they had only seconds, Harry pointed Draco’s wand at the guard on the left and Tracey did the same with the one on the right, and each each of the guards in turn and murmured, ‘Confundo’. Unnoticed by Travers, who was looking through the bronze doors at the inner hall, each of the guards gave a little start as the spells hit them.
Allison’s long curly black hair rippled behind her as she climbed the steps.
‘One moment, madam,’ said the guard, raising his Probe.
‘Why, you’ve already scanned us!’ said Allison in Bellatrix’s commanding, arrogant voice. Travers looked around, eyebrows raised. The guard was confused. He stared down at the thin golden Probe and then at his companion, who said in a slightly dazed voice, ‘Yeah, you’ve just checked them, Marius.’
Allison swept forward. Theodore by her side, Harry, Tracey and Griphook trotting invisibly behind them. Harry glanced back as they crossed the threshold. The wizards were both scratching their heads.
Two goblins stood before the inner doors, which were made of silver and which carried the poem warning of dire retribution to potential thieves. Harry looked up at it, and all of a sudden a knife-sharp memory came to him: standing on this very spot on the day that he had turned eleven, the birthday he first was allowed to access his own vault, a birthday where he, Canini, Remus, and Sirius had all been together…
Gringotts had seemed a place of wonder that day, learning the exact amount of the enchanted repository of a gold left to him from his birth parents, and never for an instant could he have dreamed that he would return to steal…But within seconds they were standing in the vast marble hall of the bank.
The long counter was manned by goblins sitting on high stools serving the first customers of the day. Allison, Theodore, and Travers headed toward an old goblin who was examining a thick gold coin through an eyeglass. Allison allowed Travers to step ahead of her on the pretext of having a private matter she wished to discuss with Theodore.
The goblin tossed the coin he was holding aside, said to nobody in particular, ‘Leprechaun,’ and then greeted Travers, who passed over a tiny golden key, which was examined and given back to him.
Allison stepped forward.
‘Madam Lestrange!’ said the goblin, evidently startled. ‘Dear me! How—how may I help you today?’
‘I wish to enter my vault,’ said Allison.
The old goblin seemed to recoil a little. Harry glanced around. Not only was Travers hanging back, watching, but several other goblins had looked up from their work to stare at Allison.
‘You have…identification?’ asked the goblin.
‘Identification? I hardly think that will be necessary!’ said Allison coldly and confidently.
‘They know!’ whispered Griphook in Harry’s ear, ‘They must have been warned there might be an imposter!’
‘Your wand will do, madam,’ said the goblin. He held out a slightly trembling hand, and in a dreadful blast of realization Harry knew that the goblins of Gringotts were aware that Bellatrix’s wand had been stolen.
‘Harry, we have to do something!’ whispered Tracey in a panic.
‘Act now, act now,’ whispered Griphook in Harry’s ear, ‘the Imperious Curse!’
Harry raised the hawthorn wand beneath the cloak, pointed it at the old goblin, and whispered, for the first time in his life, ‘Imperio!’
A curious sensation shot down Harry’s arm, a feeling of tingling, warmth that seemed to flow from his mind, down the sinews and veins connecting him to the wand and the curse it had just cast. The goblin took Bellatrix’s wand, examined it closely, and then said, ‘Ah, you have had a new wand made, Madam Lestrange!’
‘Er, pardon?’ said Allison, now quite confused.
