(A/N: First of all, I just want to thank everyone who's been concerned for me. No, I haven't tripped and fallen down a flight of stairs, or any such catastrophe. It's simply that the last two months at work have been busier than they've been in, well, years. I haven't had a chance to visit Portkey at all, much less write. But I have not abandoned this story, and I will not. Unbreakable Vow, friends.
Second, as always, my gratitude goes to Mary Caroline for her beta duties. Especially given her other distractions at the moment.
And third, I'm embarrassed to admit that I made an error in the last chapter. A dumb little calendar error, doesn't affect the plot in any way, easily fixed by reposting the chapter, but still… I hate making dumb little errors.)
(Disclaimer: Jo Rowling owns everything in the Potterverse; she controls everything that happened there, up to the end of her published books. I control what happens after that, BWAH-hah-hah-hah-hah!!)
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"Restoring Hope"
by Paracelsus
*
10 August 2009 - Year 11 P.V.
*
"A small, quiet gathering," suggested Fleur. "Tomorrow night, at the Leaky Cauldron. Ginny will not wish for anything more elaborate."
"Oh, wait a couple of years until her big three-oh," Angelina said with a laugh. "We should start planning for that one now."
Luna nodded pleasantly and opened her mouth to speak. She was interrupted by a low, harsh warbling that seemed to reverberate from the very walls of Ma Maison. "That's an odd sound," she said, curiously looking around. "Is it niklik mating season already?"
"I hardly think so… Sacristi!" Fleur started at the violent pounding on the front door. Faintly they could hear someone shouting, "Let me in!"
She rushed to the door, drawing her wand, as Angelina and Luna followed. "Who's there?" she shouted through the door.
"Fleur, it's me! Let me in!" came Bill's voice.
Angelina frowned as the pounding resumed. "Bill wouldn't be kept out by his own security wards…"
"What is my…" Fleur hesitated and gave the other two witches a sidelong glance. She changed what she was about to ask. "What did I give you for our first wedding anniversary?"
"You mean, besides proof that pregnancy didn't slow you down?" A flash of amusement broke through Bill's urgency. "A new earring."
Fleur unbolted the door and opened it. Bill dashed inside as the door wrenched itself from Fleur's hands and slammed shut behind him. "What is this all about?" demanded Fleur.
"There's some sort of trouble at Gringotts," Bill said grimly, as he strode to an abstract painting on the living room wall. A wave of his wand vanished the painting to reveal a miniature version of a Gringotts vault door. He traced a pattern on its face with his wand's tip. "They've raised the security level to maximum - all but impenetrable from the outside. And since our protections are based on the same magic, I was locked out of the house."
The wall safe's tumblers fell into place with a soft snick. Bill opened the safe and took out a tool belt, with some odd (and dangerous-looking) implements hanging from it. He buckled the belt around his waist and said to Fleur, "I have to go to Gringotts now. This is likely to be serious trouble, but don't worry, love. I'll contact you as soon as I can." Turning to Luna, he added, "Until we can get this whatever-it-is under control, Luna, I'm afraid you'll be locked out of your house too. You're welcome to stay here until then."
Luna blinked once, accepting the news as calmly as ever. "I'll need to send an owl to Ronald, then… I don't think Hogwarts has any Speaking Glasses in general use as yet."
"He," Bill began, and came to an abrupt halt.
His wife eyed him shrewdly. "Something is derangé. I've seen that look on you. Why should Luna not send an owl to Hogwarts?"
"Erm," explained Bill.
"And come to that, mon mari," Fleur continued with mounting alarm, "why were you not already at Gringotts?"
*
Professor McGonagall stood motionless and aghast in the Gringotts main lobby. The scene before her was impossible, simply and literally impossible. Not because the goblins were no longer capable of rebellion - they were, unquestionably - but because never before had the goblins shown less than a unified front to humankind. Fights between factions at their Royal Court were only rumored, never witnessed - and never involved such a major institution as Gringotts Bank.
Her sense of unreality multiplied tenfold as she watched Manwaring march forward towards the band of leather-clad goblin rebels.
Manwaring stopped just as the rebel leader Forgenail lifted his whistle to activate another of the bank's security charms. "What are your grievances, then?" she demanded.
Forgenail paused with the whistle halfway to his lips. "What did you say?"
"I am a senior Ministry official," Manwaring declared. "I am asking you to officially state your grievances." She placed her hands on her hips as the goblin sputtered. "Come now. 'Insults and indignities,' weren't those your very words?"
Forgenail swore viciously at Manwaring in Gobbledegook. He fell silent in shock as Manwaring returned fluent fire in the same language. I had no idea the woman spoke goblin language, thought McGonagall in astonishment. Not even the goblin liaison at the Beings Division speaks it that well…
Manwaring's response caused another of the other goblin rebels to shout at her, still in Gobbledegook. She responded again, not angrily, but with an air of assurance that seemed to give the rebels pause. Everyone's attention was on the elderly Ministry witch… providing McGonagall with what might well be her only opportunity.
She drew her wand surreptitiously and thought of a happy memory: the day Gryffindor won the House Cup in Granger's first year, snatching it from under Severus Snape's hooked nose. As soon as the memory was firmly fixed, McGonagall mentally added a message and whispered, "Expecto Patronum."
Her Patronus burst out of her wand and sped immediately out of sight behind one of the tellers' counters. McGonagall smiled to herself: in moments it would fly up and out of the building, locate the closest member of the Order of the Phoenix, and materialize into its usual form of a house cat - there to report on the situation and ask for help.
She felt a tug on her sleeve. She looked down to see Hope trying to catch her eye. Hope waited a second, then silently turning her gaze to the ceiling. As casually as she could, McGonagall turned to follow her gaze.
A silver streak was circling the rafters of the ceiling, searching for a means of escape. Of course. I should have realized, McGonagall chided herself as she quickly brought her eyes back down. This emergency will have brought the Gringotts security spells to full power. No messages can get out - we're on our own for the moment.
Although, she admitted grudgingly, it may be that Muriel will bring the situation under control. For the elderly witch was still in her face-off with the leather-clad goblins - engaging them in angry debate but stopping just short of provoking them into action. The longer Manwaring could keep them occupied, the likelier that help would arrive.
Forgenail seemed to sense this, too. Impatiently he strode forward, spitting out a nasty-sounding Gobbledegook phrase that had to be an insult. At any rate, Manwaring reacted to it as such, gasping in surprise, swelling in angry indignation, and raising her hand to slap Forgenail's face.
With a savage, satisfied smile, Forgenail caught Manwaring's wrist as it came down, and dug his nails into her flesh - sharpened bronze nails, glued onto his fingertips. Blue-white energy sparked from his nails and around her hand. Manwaring yelped in pain and fell to her knees, bringing her head to the same level as the goblin's; she clawed frantically at Forgenail's grip with her free hand, to no avail.
"Enough of this!" Forgenail snarled, dismissing Manwaring's existence. "The time for talk is past! We will not be sidetracked by this Ministry lackey any further! You!" He pointed at one of the frozen-faced clerks. The clerk gave a start, as though released from a binding spell. "Take three more and go to the Eighth Level at once. Empty all the vaults and bring their contents to…" He looked around, considering quickly. "To the Directors' Vault," he concluded triumphantly.
A well-dressed witch who had been watching the proceedings, intently but quietly until now, cleared her throat in warning. Forgenail paid her no more attention than he did Manwaring.
Eighth Level… that includes the Potter vault, McGonagall realized with a start. Suspicions that had begun to form when they'd first entered the vault that day were gelling into certainties.
"But that's…" Hope began, apparently reaching the same conclusion as McGonagall. "But you can't! That's where my vault is!"
"'Can't'?" Forgenail gave a nasty laugh. "Who is there to stop us, infant? You?"
Hope hesitated, and McGonagall almost fancied she was listening to something. "So what's all your talk about thieves, then?" she demanded. "Or do goblin rules only apply when the thieves aren't goblins?"
McGonagall had never seen a goblin's face turn such a dark, furious green - had he been human, he would have been livid. Hope's words must have cut to the very heart of his race's morality. Where had she learned…?
She abruptly lost her train of thought as too many things began to happen at once:
Forgenail brought his silver whistle to his lips in a fury.
The witch who had tried to get Forgenail's attention stepped forward angrily, as did a young wizard from another part of the room.
Manwaring made another attempt to free her trapped wrist.
And Hope whipped out her wand, pointed it at Forgenail as he was about to blow into his whistle, and said in a voice of cold steel: "Expelliarmus!"
The whistle sailed from Forgenail's hand as he flew backward, to bowl into the group of rebel goblins. Several tumbled to the floor, Forgenail among them, as Manwaring collapsed where she knelt. Hope stepped over to Manwaring and tugged on her arm. "And don't call me 'infant'," she added sotto voce.
Under Hope's insistent tugging, Manwaring struggled to rise. She was almost to her feet when she glanced up and gave a shocked gasp. "Dear, look out!" she cried, pushing Hope away from her, just as the well-dressed witch fired a hex in their direction. The hex missed them both, and as Manwaring scrambled to one side, the witch turned to Hope and aimed her wand again. "Stupefy!"
Hope didn't scramble away - she stood her ground. "Protego!" she countered, and the hex was reflected back to shoot past the witch's ear. The witch ducked hastily and…
And that seemed to be the signal for a full-scale donnybrook to erupt. The rebel goblins were using every weapon in their arsenal to attack every human present in the bank. The humans (the ones who weren't screaming and running in circles, at any rate) were responding by firing spells - some were firing at the goblins, while amazingly, others were firing at fellow humans. The young wizard who'd come forward earlier was one of these; he was also yelling at the goblins. "You incompetents! Get to the vaults before it's too late!"
Meanwhile, the well-dressed witch was pressing her attack on Hope. Her curses were fast and powerful, but for the moment, they weren't well aimed: Hope was able to duck or block them all. McGonagall realized that Hope's charmed cloak must be responsible - its Aversion Charms made the child difficult to pin down.
McGonagall stepped forward to intervene… only to be knocked backwards by a spell from another source, a bulky middle-aged wizard from across the lobby. Winded, she painfully crawled behind a teller's counter to recover her strength. I cannot be getting too old for this, she told herself with some asperity, I'm not even a hundred…
She felt a hand take hers and drag her forcefully to safety. McGonagall looked up to see Brasslock scowling at her. "What is all this?" he demanded.
"Perhaps you should tell me," she shot back. "This has nothing to do with dissension at your Royal Court, does it?"
Brasslock's face gave nothing away. "Forgenail has never agreed with Gringotts policies," he admitted after a moment. "He's proposed stricter isolation any number of times, and has been voted down each time."
"Do you mean to say he's actually a director of this bank?"
At that, Brasslock's lips drew back in a rictus of disgust. "He was until today." It made a certain sense, McGonagall realized. Only a Gringotts goblin could command the bank's defenses.
On the other side of the counter, Hope continued to defend herself. The well-dressed witch was only one of her concerns - at the moment, for instance, another weighted net had flown from the ceiling and was trying to ensnare her. But Hope had an advantage no one else in the room could boast…
"Roll left - now!" commanded Harry in her ear. Hope unhesitatingly obeyed. The net smacked against the floor at the spot she'd just vacated. It seemed to be at a momentary loss as to what to do next… then it rose slightly, hovered for a split-second, and began to fly at her again. "Try Reducto," Harry told her.
"Reducto!" repeated Hope, and was gratified to see the net blasted into fragments. Out of pure instinct she kept moving… her eyes flicked back and forth, seeking the Headmistress… at a warning from Harry, she raised her Shield Charm in time to deflect a hex from the bulky wizard… she broke into a run and headed for the door leading to the conference room, thinking she might barricade herself inside…
The well-dressed witch appeared in front of her suddenly. Hope froze in surprise, unable to respond to Harry's urgent "Move!" The witch smiled - it was chillingly familiar somehow, that smile - raised her wand again, and fired a bolt of purple flame.
And just as suddenly as the witch had appeared, so did another figure - wearing the scarlet livery of Gringotts Bank, and topped with a mane of bright red hair. He hoisted Hope under one arm while he blocked the witch's curse…
… with his cane.
Hope reached over the arm holding her and returned fire at the well-dressed witch. "Expelliarmus! Stupefy!" The witch lost her wand, and had to dive into the conference room very quickly indeed to avoid being stunned in return. Hope squirmed around to look at her rescuer's face as he sprinted for cover. "DAD!? What are you doing here?!"
Ron Weasley managed a sickly smile for his daughter. "Looks like I'm rescuing you, dunnit?" His face looked leaner, and it was scarred just as Uncle Bill's face was - but at this close range, she now saw that the changes were done with simple makeup, not a glamour. No wonder he'd been able to get past the doorgoblin's scans for magical disguise!
There was so much Hope found herself bursting to say to him, but it would have to wait. For the moment she'd settle for holding on to him for dear life, and calling it a hug. "They're trying to get into my vault," she said quickly. "All of them, the goblins and those others. It even sounds like they're…"
Any pretense to a smile on Ron's face was quite gone. "Working together, yeah, I caught that. Petrificus totalus!" The goblin in their path stiffened and fell away. Ron glanced from side to side, and set Hope on her feet. "Stay close to me, princess. Not that you were doing all that badly…" There was a question in his voice that Hope postponed acknowledging.
Two Bludger-like spheres zoomed from a wall niche. Spikes sprouted out of them as they aimed themselves for Ron and Hope. Ron and Hope ducked in opposite directions, and came back together with almost choreographed precision as the spheres sped past them. "Impedimenta," instructed Harry in her ear, and Hope cast her spell at the same moment Ron cast his. Their twin spells hit the spiked spheres and froze them, immobilized.
"You can't win," called a human voice - the young wizard who'd shouted angrily at the goblins. He and another witch, dark-haired and pudgy, had their wands aimed at Ron and Hope, while the remaining goblin rebels put their whistles in their mouths, ready to blow. "Don't care how good you are, you're majorly outnumbered. If you keep fighting, someone's going to get hurt." He gestured at the bulky wizard, who had his wand at the throat of a sobbing teenaged witch. The remaining humans who were still conscious looked too scared to move.
"And if anyone does get hurt, you'll never get out of here," Ron called back. "What in Merlin's name do you think you're going to accomplish? Even if you get all the gold in the vaults, where can you go with it? A bit much to carry in your pockets, even if you shrink it."
"Oh, there are ways," said the young wizard, arrogant and confident. "You should worry less about us getting out, and more about yourself. Help won't be coming - not through those doors," he added smugly.
Hope and Ron glanced at each other, and seem to share the same thought. "Put that way…" Ron said.
"Easy to fix," Hope agreed, and as one they raised their wands to the massive Gringotts doors. "Reducto!" they cried together.
The doors exploded thunderously outwards. Sunlight streamed into the foyer through the cloud of dust. Beyond the ruins of the doors could be seen Diagon Alley, where a crowd of humans was gathered, peering in anxiously.
From the ceiling, a silver streak flashed through the now-opened doors and was gone from sight. No one noticed its departure… least of all the goblin rebels and their human allies. They stood in shock, all but petrified, as Ron and Hope lowered their wands and traded a quick, triumphant grin. "That - that is not possible!" choked Forgenail at last. "Our wards - Gringotts security is impenetrable -!"
"From the outside," came a new voice, and Bill Weasley (the real one this time) leaped over the debris in the doorway. Before anyone could react, he slid a device from his tool belt, square and metallically black. He held it over his head, and pressed a button. A klaxon sounded, and Bill swept the device to cover the entire room. Refastening the device to his belt, with a wolfish grin he brought out a silver whistle identical to Forgenail's.
Forgenail eyed it with mixed fear and outrage. "You could not have… that is for directors only…!"
"I've worked on the security here for years… credit me with knowing something about it." Bill brought the whistle to his lips. "Care to find out?"
With that as her cue, McGonagall rose from behind the teller's counter to lay down a rapid barrage of hexes. The attack from the unexpected quarter caught their opponents off-guard. One hex hit the bulky wizard in his wand hand - he cried out in pain as it was Engorged to the point that he couldn't lift it. His teenaged hostage promptly elbowed him in the stomach and darted away. One of the remaining humans, emboldened by the sudden turn, cast a Shield Charm over the teenager as she made for cover.
"Spread out," Harry whispered, and Hope started to obey.
"Stay next to me, bright eyes," said Ron, pulling her closer. He used his cane's built-in Shield Charm to deflect a curse from the dark pudgy witch, and returned fire at her. Hope, trying to reconcile her fathers' wishes, compromised by staying close to Ron, but standing back to back with him. "Sorry," she whispered.
Harry didn't answer immediately. "D'you know Levicorpus?" he asked after a moment. "It's a nonverbal spell, just use your wand…"
More people were coming into the building through the ruined doors: a squad of Magical Law Enforcers, led by Aurors Tonks and Featherstone. They pressed against the foyer walls for cover and sent Stunners at the goblins rebels. Caught in a crossfire, the goblins lost their heads: some threw themselves onto the floor, hands over their heads in a bid for mercy, while Forgenail and the remainder of the rebels ran out of the lobby through the door leading to the underground vaults.
The young wizard, his arrogance gone, tried to follow them - but found himself unexpectedly dangling by one foot in mid-air. Hope nodded in satisfaction.
A final blast from Tonks Petrified the dark pudgy witch in her tracks. "Sonorus! Now listen up, all of you!" Tonks barked as the fighting died down. "I'm Special Auror Tonks, and I want every human in the bank to line up against that wall, now!" She gestured with her wand, as Featherstone and the Enforcers took their stations throughout the lobby. Tonks cancelled the spell on her voice and added, "Except for you, Weasleys. You're with me."
*
"We owe you no gratitude," said Brasslock. "You were merely doing your jobs… and we did not ask for your help."
They had retired to Brasslock's office: McGonagall, Tonks, Bill, Ron, and Hope. Manwaring was outside giving a statement to Featherstone; the Enforcers were doing the preliminary questioning of all the human witnesses, as mediwizards from St. Mungo's attended the injured. Meanwhile, three human captives - Forgenail's human allies - lay Stupefied in one of Gringotts's more secure chambers.
Ron sat with shoulders hunched and hands clasped tightly together, trying not to give way to the shakes that usually hit him after a battle. Hope knew what her Dad needed - or more accurately, who he needed - but didn't know what to do about it. Helplessly she reached out and tried to pry his hands apart, tried to wrap her hand around his.
But it was Brasslock's pronouncement that brought Ron's attention back into focus. "Tell me again how it's my job to pull your chestnuts out of the fire."
"You were here impersonating one of our employees," Brasslock pointed out acidly. "And destroyed our main doors as well. By rights, I should have you charged with breaking and entering! Criminal trespass!"
Bill raised a placating hand as Ron was about to explode. "You may not have formally asked for our help, sir, but we were still glad to give it. And you must admit it proved useful."
Brasslock grimaced. "Perhaps."
"Then perhaps you can give us some aid in return," said McGonagall, "by answering some questions. Such as why your fellow director tried to take over Gringotts by force."
"And where he and his cronies are now," Tonks added.
"By now, they are probably well on their way out of the country. You saw them escape into the underground tunnels… from there, they could blast their way to the surface. As Weasley so disastrously proved, our defenses can be broken from the inside. As for why?" The goblin shrugged. "I've already told you that Forgenail has disagreed with our policies…"
"Enough to foment another goblin rebellion? Rather a violent disagreement, surely." McGonagall tapped her chin as she regarded him. "I find it suspicious that one of the first vaults Forgenail wanted to raid was Miss Potter's vault."
"No more suspicious than the fact that your human thieves wanted the same," retorted Brasslock.
"Human thieves might well be after Miss Potter's gold, but why would goblins? Surely Koboldheim could provide all the gold any goblin would need." McGonagall gave a most Hermione-like sigh at Ron's look of confusion. "Koboldheim, Professor Weasley, is the goblins' ancestral home, and where the Royal Family holds court."
"Binns never covered that," muttered Ron defensively. McGonagall didn't reply, but the skeptical look on her face was eloquent.
The door opened a crack and Featherstone stuck her head into the room. "Chief, we've had a new development," she told Tonks. "Our three yobbos are changing shape… they were under Polyjuice Potion. Too soon to tell for sure, but I think the fat one's Avery."
"Be right there," said Tonks, and turned to the goblin as Featherstone withdrew. "This just keeps getting better and better. Care to tell me how three Polyjuiced Death Eaters got into Gringotts undetected?"
For once, Brasslock was visibly shaken. "I… I cannot imagine…"
"Forgenail," said Hope unexpectedly. "We were all scanned at the front doors when we came in… but what if Forgenail brought them in through a private door? Or just told the doorgoblin that they were with him, and not to bother scanning? I mean, if he was a director and all…"
"That'd be it," nodded Tonks. "And maybe Death Eaters would've wanted gold, Brasslock, but I've got another thought on that. I'm betting their main objective was to shut down Gringotts." She nodded to McGonagall. "It's like you said, Professor: they're going after our institutions. If Gringotts closed, there'd be panic in the streets." Tonks stood and walked to the door. "Hell, even if people only thought they couldn't trust it any more, it'd serve Bellatrix's agenda as well," she offered as a parting shot.
On that note, Tonks opened the door and left the room to deal with her prisoners - but as she left, her eyes fell on Hope, still trying to take her father's hand. Hiding a sly smile, she made her way through the bank; she caught the notice of one of the Enforcers in the lobby and gave a quick order before she continued on her way.
Back in his office, Brasslock seemed more struck by Tonks's remark on trust than by anything else. "I'd remind you all that today's incident was orchestrated by a few dissidents," he said. "Of course Gringotts Bank will stay open... and of course we will do what we can to prove ourselves worthy of wizards' trust. As we have for hundreds of years," he added pointedly.
"It's a valid point," conceded McGonagall. "For all my lifetime, Gringotts has been synonymous with security."
"Speaking of security," put in Bill, "when will the wards be reduced to normal strength?"
"It requires directorial authority to oversee the wards. It seems I must deal with them myself: Gnatooth is currently occupied with your Enforcers, and our remaining directors are in South Africa this week. So if you will excuse me…?" Brasslock gave the assembled humans a slight bow before retreating through a side door. He maintained a dignified, autocratic stride that was, nonetheless, just short of a run.
Turning to Ron, Bill explained, "You haven't tried to go home yet. Don't bother: until Brasslock's done, you won't get in. The wards on our houses are based on the same magic as the Gringotts wards, remember? I couldn't get into my own home until Fleur let me in…"
Ron sighed heavily. "Which means she knows you borrowed her cosmetics to help me look more like you?" He ran his fingers through his longer-than-usual hair. "And if Fleur knows, the entire Red Hennery probably knows…"
"All on the remote chance that you might see Hope, in express violation of Ministry decree," accused McGonagall, her voice frosty. "Professor Weasley, you've put me in an impossible position."
"Yeah, well, I won't tell if you don't." As McGonagall's eyebrows rose to dangerous levels, Ron added, "Besides, you didn't say Hope would be at the bank today, so you can't take any blame. I came here on my own today, er, pretending to be Bill because, er…"
"Because you lost our bet, loser," Bill put in smoothly. "You had to try to do my job for one day, if I won. I keep telling you not to back the Cannons, but hey…"
"Right. I lost a bet." Ron nodded and managed a smile for McGonagall. "That's our story, and we're sticking to it."
"Oh, Ronald. I thought you'd learned to control your gambling impulses," came Luna's voice from the door. "If I had a Sickle for every time you've bet the Cannons would win… no, wait, that's right, I do have a Sickle for…"
"Oh, ha bloody ha," said Ron, with a completely unbelievable grumble in his voice. His face, his whole manner, had lit up when Luna entered the room. Luna came up to stand behind Ron's chair; one hand began to stroke his new mane of hair while the other wrapped itself around Hope's shoulder and squeezed her close. Hope leaned into her mum, for the moment utterly content.
McGonagall watched this family scene for a moment, and felt her frost slowly evaporating. "Very well then, Professor. It seems I must agree to your terms."
Ron blinked in confusion.
"I won't tell if you don't," McGonagall clarified, deadpan.
The door slammed open, and Brasslock strode angrily into the office with Manwaring trailing behind. "Weasley! What did you do to our wards?" he demanded of Bill. "That… that clumsy excuse for an Artifact," and he pointed at the square black device in Bill's tool belt, "has ruined them!"
Shaking his head, Bill took the device from his belt and offered it to the goblin. "No, sir, it shouldn't have. All it can do is fool the wards into thinking I'm a director… briefly. And it should only have affected the internal security charms, like the snares." He matched Brasslock's glare with a frank look of his own. "Those're the only ones I had a chance to examine, after all."
"Well, you did something, you…!" He swallowed whatever epithet he'd been about to use, and continued with a forced calm. "The outer wards aren't responding. I've reduced the vaults and inner defenses to normal security levels, but the outer wards remain on maximum alert. Which is just as well, seeing as our main doors have been demolished…" Brasslock transferred his glare to Ron.
Ron glared back. "Gee, any chance that someone else might've tampered with your bleedin' wards? Someone planning to take over the Bank, maybe?"
"If you mean Forgenail, say so."
"We already know he had, what'd you call it? 'Directorial authority to oversee the wards.' No one else would've been as well placed to fix them so that only he could turn them on or off."
"Forgenail must have planned and prepared for today's events well in advance, then," said McGonagall. "Which does bring us back to the question of what he hoped to gain."
"Oh, I should have thought that was obvious," Luna said brightly. "Poplolly, didn't you mention something about all the strange silver gadgetry in your vault? The items that Harry inherited from Professor Dumbledore?"
Not since that dinner at the Burrow twelve years ago - when Hermione had matter-of-factly announced to the Weasley family that she and Ron weren't returning to Hogwarts, preferring to join Harry in a top-secret suicide mission, thanks all the same - had Ron seen a single remark so utterly flabbergast an entire room. Brasslock and Manwaring were doing remarkably similar impressions of goggling goldfish; Hope and Ron had turned to stare at Luna in amazement; Bill's face lit up with sudden enlightenment, before he began to frown in thought; and McGonagall, after a moment of surprise, watched Brasslock's and Manwaring's reactions with a tight little smile, as though confirming suspicions.
"I'd often seen those instruments in the Headmaster's office, when Albus was Headmaster," she began. "Indeed, they were there back when I was a student, and Dippet was Headmaster. And I suspect they'd been there long before him, as well - they were dusty enough. Since the 18th Century, perhaps?"
The goblin gave McGonagall a resentful look, but said nothing.
"They've always struck me as extraordinarily well-crafted devices," McGonagall continued. "Artifaction is the goblins' special manifestation of magic, is it not?"
"Wait half a mo…" Bill looked from Brasslock to McGonagall and back. "18th Century… the last major goblin riots were back then, weren't they? Professor, are you suggesting…?"
"If some goblin Artifacts had been confiscated at the end of the uprising," McGonagall pointed out, "where would they be taken for safekeeping? The two safest places in the wizarding world are Gringotts and Hogwarts…"
"And in this case, I reckon Gringotts would be right out," finished Ron. He turned in his seat to confront Manwaring. "You knew this, didn't you?! That's why the Ministry's been so damned eager to get its hands on Harry's inheritance!"
"They are ours!" burst out of Brasslock. "They have always been ours! Your Headmasters may have guarded them, but it was always understood that they would one day be returned to us - not bequeathed to a, a schoolboy, no matter how heroic!"
Outside the open door, several Gringotts goblins were gathering. Ron didn't notice them, or he might have moderated his voice. "Harry saved the goblins' arses as much as he saved humans'…" he shouted hotly.
"We know that! It was only for that reason that we allowed Harry Potter to keep custody of our property! Do you imagine goblins don't know exactly what is owed to them, and what they owe?" Brasslock looked up at Manwaring. "But those Artifacts were never yours," he finished, his voice falling to a whisper.
"The devices were justly confiscated…" Manwaring started to say.
"Stolen!" Brasslock screamed. There was an ugly murmur of agreement from outside the office.
Hope interrupted. "What do the things do?"
Everyone stared at the girl. She shrugged. "Father never used them against Lord Voldemort… doesn't that mean he didn't know what they can do? It's not like they came with instruction manuals or anything."
Brasslock inhaled deeply. In measured tones he replied, "Each Artifact has its own unique purpose."
"Are they safe? I mean, safer than Weasley Wizard Wheezes, at least? If they are, I wouldn't mind giving them back to you." She looked at Luna and Ron. "Er, I could do that, couldn't I?"
"Returning stolen property is always the right thing to do, anchorling," Luna told her with a pleased smile.
"They were not stolen," hissed Manwaring. "The Ministry of Magic had just put down a rebellion, the devices were obviously a danger, and they were legitimately seized. How you can even think of letting them be used against humans again…!"
Hope nodded, then looked Brasslock square in the eye. "Are they safe?" she repeated.
Brasslock didn't reply. Hope's lips twitched as though she were suppressing a smile. "You don't know what they do either, do you?" she asked.
"It shouldn't matter," snapped Brasslock, nettled. "Every human walks into our Bank carrying a lethal weapon, and we are forced to permit it. Yes," he interjected snidely at Manwaring before she could speak, "we know, all in accord with the law - human law. Goblins smile and allow humans to flaunt the wands we aren't permitted."
"I'm sorry," Hope said humbly. Brasslock paused in mid-diatribe and eyed her appraisingly. Hope returned his gaze, seemingly oblivious to the surprised murmurings of the goblins standing outside.
Luna put in, "There isn't a great deal Hope can do about wizarding law today. But she can do something about the things in her vault…"
"Hmmph," said Brasslock.
"Perhaps, before we can decide anything, we could learn what the devices are for," McGonagall contributed. "Once that's done, and if they are determined to pose no hazard, it shouldn't be a problem to transfer custody to the Court at Koboldheim."
Slowly, Brasslock nodded. "That might be feasible," he conceded. "We will have to bring out Master Artificers from the Royal Academy to examine the devices. We might even consent to having one or two of your Unspeakables present. Yes, yes, this might do well…"
Manwaring looked obstinate, but her protests were cut short when Auror Featherstone appeared in the doorway. Almost immediately, the group of eavesdropping goblins dispersed. "If you're all done in here," she announced, "we need a few more statements and I.D.'s before we're finished."
The humans were leaving Brasslock's office when Bill, who had been silent for minutes, stopped short and smacked his forehead. "OVERSEE!" he bellowed. "Of COURSE!!" He spun on his heel and, seizing Ron's arm, strode angrily back into the office, Luna and Hope in tow. Brasslock looked up in astonishment as Bill slammed the door shut.
None of them had ever seen Bill so blindingly furious. He and Charlie had always been the best-natured of the Weasley clan - even the werewolf attack, so many years before, hadn't changed his basic good nature. Now a feral snarl twisted his lean face, and the werewolf's scars stood out lividly.
"Oversee," he said again, this time in a voice soft but throbbing with controlled anger. "Oversee the wards."
Instinctively, Brasslock took a step backwards. He didn't take his eyes from Bill's face. It took him a moment before he could say cautiously, "No harm has been done, I promise you. But our first priority must be to look out after our race's best interests." His eyes flicked to Hope in appeal. "Your mother would agree, I'm sure."
It took another moment for Hope to understand. When she did, her words exploded out of her mouth at the goblin. "You know about Mother? How? Nobody knows about - oh Merlin! Do you have her? Is that why she's gone missing? Mum…!"
"No, no, Hope, don't worry, she's safe," Luna assured her soothingly. "She's perfectly safe. I collected her from your room where you'd hid her. I also told your father about her… it seemed only right that he know."
"And that was our mistake," said Bill tightly. He pointed a finger at Brasslock, who looked distinctly worried. "Directorial authority to oversee the wards. The wards you so graciously installed at Ron's and my homes. You could oversee them. As in, monitor them. As in…"
"Spy on us!?" Ron yelled, finally cottoning. "My God, that's how everyone knew Hope was Harry's heir! I wondered how the Ministry could know, just days after her birthday - because you heard her announce it herself, on her birthday!"
"The… the Ministry was trying to claim the Potter estate," said Brasslock, nervously backing away from two enraged Weasleys. "We had to produce a legitimate heir…"
"The Phoenix meeting…" growled Bill.
"Only I monitored that! I told no one!" the goblin cried, now truly frightened. "On the head of my father, I swear!"
Bill said nothing, letting the silence grow painful. "You will take me to your ward runes, now," he finally said, softly menacing. "And you will show me exactly how they work. And together we will restore them to normal strength. And we will make sure you can never again listen in on us. You will do this, or you can kiss your precious Artifacts good-bye."
Brasslock gulped. "Agreed. It, er, it will still take a day or two… I don't know what Forgenail might have done to them. You will still be locked out of your homes until then," he added, with an apologetic bob to Luna and Hope. "I would count it a privilege to pay for your lodging until then…"
"Mum," said Hope, and then paused as if listening. She turned white. "Mum, where's Mother?"
"I told you not to worry, dear, she's safe," Luna said. "I left her at home today… I wasn't anticipating all this excitement. But it's not as though anything can happen to her there, with the protective spells so strong…"
"No! We have to get her, now! We have to save her! Before it's too late!"
"We can't get to her, Hope, weren't you listening?" Ron said impatiently. "Our house is sealed. Can't Apparate in, can't Floo in, can't break down the door… even house elves can't get inside. What's the problem?"
"But Forgenail can! And the problem…" Hope hesitated, then said (using words she'd undoubtedly learned from Ron), "Oh bugger all." She unfastened her Cloak of Anonymity, swung it from her shoulders, and turned the hood inside out.
Harry waited for a second, barely allowing enough time for his existence to register, before he replied grimly, "The problem, Ron, is that Tonks said three."