Portkey A/N: I feel I must interject once more to remind you that there will be minimal Ron bashing in this particular fic (the same applies to all the Weasleys, apart from Percy.) Primarily this suits plot purposes in the future.
I will have another H/Hr fic that might be more unkind to the Weasleys, particularly Ron, but not Ginny, simply because in these fictions, fangirl super!Ginny from HBP does not, nor will she ever exist.
Chapter 9: Plans of Action
It was long into the morning before Harry awoke. His eyes were forced open by a stray line of sunlight that refused to be denied entry into his happy little world of slumber. Grimacing a bit as he forced himself awake, his eyes fluttered open to find that he was, in fact, not in his room. Almost immediately his eyes shot open as he tried to ascertain his surroundings. Large bookcases? Lavender quilts? A small black owl sleeping by the window?
His fear quickly subsided as he realized where he was, and it was replaced by a joyful feeling of contentment. He remembered what had happened yesterday, and felt as though a great weight had been lifted off his chest. For the first time since Sirius' death, he was certain that someone cared for him. Not for their son's friend. Not for the last remnant of past friendships. Not for the Boy Who Lived. Not for some ultimate tool. Someone cared for him...Harry James Potter. The smile didn't leave his face as he thought of what had happened after their short conversation last night, and a slight blush crept across forwards. They hadn't gone too far, but for someone that had barely ever been loved in his life, it had certainly been far enough.
It was at this moment that he realized that a certain bushy haired friend of his was no longer in bed. He looked around for a bit, his eyes straining against the morning light. He heard a slight giggle from off to the side and his head immediately turned. Sitting at her desk was Hermione, her hair done in a loose ponytail and her face filled with pure joy. Judging from her clothes and appearance, Harry guessed that she'd been up for quite some time.
"You're cute when you're confused like that," Hermione said childishly, a grin still firmly plastered on her face. She stood up and padded back over to the bed and sat next to Harry, who was still trying to shake the sleep out of his eyes. She wrapped an arm around his waist and jostled him a few times, letting out a content sigh. Harry just looked at her cockeyed.
"What's with you?" he asked, smiling himself. He obviously knew, but seeing Hermione this happy made his own happiness all the more increased.
"I'm just...I don't know. I just can't stop smiling." Her face did dim slightly, causing Harry to frown slightly. "I still miss them but..." she seemed to nod to herself, saying something that Harry couldn't quite make out. He was going to press the issue, however Hermione just looked at him, and forced anything he was going to say out of his mind. She resumed her previous demeanor and leaned into Harry slightly, allowing him to just hold her. "When did you figure it out," she asked, not needing to explain what 'it' was.
Harry thought for several moments. When had he figured out he was in love with Hermione, or at least thought he might be? He logically thought back to the hotel and the protective feeling he had felt for her, but dismissed that as the culmination of something more. He got the same feelings after seeing her stunned at the Ministry, even the time at the Yule Ball and the time as far back as seeing her petrified in their second year. Failing to reach a specific moment, he simply shrugged at his reply.
"I guess...I've always felt this way." He gave her a slight squeeze, "I figured it out just recently I suppose, but I've always had these...feelings." He stopped there. He still wasn't completely certain on these types of situations and his words were failing him. He looked down at Hermione and asked, "How about you?"
She thought for a few moments as well and came up with a more coherent answer. "I guess it's the same. I've always felt something...there. First time I could tell was third year though. After we used the time turner, and we were waiting for our past selves to emerge from the Whomping Willow. Seeing you carry on about Sirius and the home he would give you...I think I knew then that if nothing else in my life I wanted to see you happy." She grinned back at Harry, who held her closer.
"Mission accomplished," he mused, and kissed her softly on the top of her head. Standing up, much to her protests, he headed for the door. "I need a shower," he stated, getting a nod from Hermione.
"I'll be in the library," she said with more than a hint of anticipation in her voice. Without waiting for him to clear out Hermione grabbed several rolls of parchment and headed off, no doubt planning on what she would read first in her mind. Harry merely chuckled at the display and headed for the master bath to take his shower.
/ - / - / - /
Ronald Weasley was currently engaged in an activity that would astound and amaze anyone that knew him in the slightest. He was sitting at his desk, frowning over a book, somewhat meticulously jotting down a few notes.
Not that he had anything else better to do, other than worry of course. His two best friends were currently missing and for all that Ron knew might be dead or worse, held captive by the Death Eaters. He was trying to do his homework early, in a vain attempt to keep his mind off of everything. Unfortunately the garden was woefully gnomeless, so the mindless activity was denied him. He couldn't even fly at the moment, given that his mum was keeping them all indoors for safe keeping at the moment.
Growling to himself, he slammed the quill down on his desk and dropped his head onto the parchment. Worry once again gripped his mind and he broiled over everything for what had to be the fiftieth time in the last two days. Though it didn't temper his worry any, he always had a notion that something like this to happen to Harry, especially after the tournament. His friend was always in some kind of danger, and in truth that was part of the reason that Ron had gotten over his jealousy of the famous Boy-Who-Lived. Particularly after the Department of Mysteries, seeing him that devastated as the last of his family sank into oblivion would have the effect of displacing any jealous feelings.
Hermione on the other hand was a conundrum in and of herself. Given the circumstances surrounding her disappearance, Ron was more than a little worried about her. Even if she wasn't being held captive by the Death Eaters, she needed to be somewhere where she would have proper support. Ron didn't know how to provide that, but he figured that his parents did.
In truth Hermione was a problem in an odd sort of way, considering their relationship. Ron thought he might fancy her, at least partially, but the more he dwelt on those feelings the more confused he got. He wasn't certain if his feelings were love, lust, or none of the above. Looking to the only real example he had of such relationships, he certainly knew that Hermione and he could never be like they were. The thought almost sickened him.
Still, he cared deeply for her, even if it was only in a brotherly sort of way. As it was Ron suspected that Hermione had no feelings for him outside of being a friend. Harry on the other hand...
To the contrary of what most people would tell him, Ron was very observant about how the way people acted around one another. Though he could be a tad bit more than thick-headed at times at connecting the dots concerning the latest transfigurations or charms essay, Ron could easily determine the status of interpersonal relationships, even if the parties involved couldn't see it for themselves. To that end, Ron had often suspected that Hermione fancied Harry. He only hoped that they would live long enough to see those feelings come to fruition. He stifled a tear leaking out of his left eye and stood up, glancing over towards a chess set. He could play against the charmed set again, see if maybe he could get his mind off of things.
An errant gust of wind blew through his room and alerted Ron to a sudden presence on his desk. Turning around he heard the faint sound of eggs cracking against a frying pan, and to his amazement saw a familiar snowy white owl appear out of thin air.
"Hedwig!" Ron exclaimed, earning him a reproachful hoot as if the bird were telling him to keep his voice down. Ron raised an eyebrow at the bird as she held out one leg for him. He noticed the second letter on her other leg, but didn't pry into it. He quickly took the letter and unfurled it, reading it as quickly as he could.
A couple of minutes later Ron's face was pale as a ghost and he was at a loss for words. Something had happened. That much was certain. And as perturbed as Ron was at not knowing what it was, he couldn't help but notice the ferocity with which Harry stated that under no circumstances should the headmaster be told of the correspondence.
Ron's immediate reaction was that Harry must be under some kind of spell, given his devotion to Dumbledore's cause the entire previous year. He must have been under the imperious curse or something. As he contemplated it though...he shrugged off the thought. Harry said he'd been able to throw off the imperious when he had told Hermione and Ron about the graveyard incident.
Ron went through his disorganized mind again. Slowly the conclusions that needed to be made came closer together, and he looked at the letter with flushed anger in his face. If Harry wasn't enchanted...if he wasn't under some kind of spell...then everything he had said was true. Ron couldn't even fathom that headmaster doing the things that Harry accused him of doing, but inside a small part of him was screaming at the top of its lungs to believe his best mate.
Ron began to pace back and forth, digesting this information with everything else that had been going on. For some time now Ron had been aware of something not quite being right. He had heard his mum and dad, speaking in whispered tones and encouraging certain behaviors out of their two youngest children. His mother in particular had been particularly a nuisance, overtly encouraging Ginny to, what it seemed like to Ron anyway, seek out Harry's affections. She had been doing something similar to him with regards to Hermione, but that had stopped for a brief moment in 4th year when she had gone absolutely cold to the girl with that article in the Prophet.
Ron stopped short, as if a light had suddenly been turned on in his head, and several seemingly random occurances suddenly clicked together. It made a mixture of emotions cross over his face simultaneously. Anger blended with sorrow and guilt, followed by a sheer determination racked with insatiable fear. The effect it produced was all-encompassing and quite quickly reduced Ron to an emotionally numb mass.
He glanced over at Hedwig and pulled out a piece of parchment. Scribbling a quick reply he tied it to the owl's leg and watched in a half-awestruck state as the owl ruffled her feathers and disappeared yet again. The soft flap of her wings was the only clue she had gone anywhere. Ron glanced down at the letter Harry had written him and picked it up quickly. He folded it several times over and went over to his bed. He slid it underneath the mattress, hiding it directly in the center, and prayed that no one would find it. First chance he got, he would burn the thing, but for now it would work.
Ron went back to his desk and sat there, his mind working a million miles a minute. A plan was slowly forming in his mind, certain conversations and confrontations that would need to be made. He had several questions for a certain headmaster of his, and several for his parents as well. The only thing that escaped his lips as he turned back to his books, a frown coldly forming on his face, was "How could they?"
/ - / - / - /
Draco Malfoy stalked into his room, exhausted. He had been everywhere the night previous, and didn't protest as much as he could have over his less than stellar living accommodations. He collapsed onto his bed and went over the events quickly in his mind.
Having left the Death Eater headquarters, Malfoy and Caliban had traveled straight to a muggle neighborhood, much to Malfoy's discontent. Despite this, he was surprised that none of the bloody creatures had so much as looked at him and his newly christened mentor. Draco asked why, but Caliban had brushed him off. Caliban had seemed preoccupied with things, merely keeping his head held high as if he was following something. He walked several feet before stopping. He looked out down the road, and Malfoy thought the man had gone completely mental, before Caliban summoned his wand from his wrist and held it out. With a bang a large double decker bus appeared out of nowhere. Caliban shoved some money at the conductor and Malfoy eyed the man contemptuously.
Grimacing Draco remembered the moment well. He had protested about traveling in such gruesome accommodations, earning a glare from Caliban. A moment later Draco had felt a mind-numbing bliss fall over him and against his will he found himself marching onto the bus.
After a short time on the wretched bus he found himself being led into a dark back alley that Draco knew led to Knockturn. They made a brief turnoff where Draco had felt the effects of the cruciatus, something his aching body reminded him of repeatedly.
Once arriving at Knockturn they traveled straight to Diagon Alley. Caliban stopped near the entrance of Gringott's, his eyes following the trail of the alley back towards the Leaky Cauldron, and then leading off towards Madame Malkin's. Motioning for Draco to follow him, they tracked to the clothing store before stopping at Flourish & Blotts for a brief moment. They then had stalked to the Leaky Cauldron, making no motion to stop as they rushed through the bar and traveled two or three blocks to another abandoned alley. Once there Caliban looked around, confused for a moment, and then had apparated them here.
The events played themselves over in Draco's head at a breakneck speed. His muscles still twinged with the after-effects of the cruciatus, and his pride was more than a little stung with the way that Caliban had treated him in the brief time he had known the man. Summoning up his resolve, Draco sat up on his bed, filled with the notion once more that he was personally chosen by the Dark Lord to be on this mission. That worthless mudblood of a hound was merely there to chase bones and fetch Potter and that foolish imposter slytherin, Draco kept telling himself. Standing up, Draco was prepared to march out of the room and let Caliban know who was in charge again.
That was until Caliban forced the door open and a stunner shot straight at him, blowing him back against the wall and shaking him to near unconsciousness. Malfoy groaned as Caliban used his wand to force him up to a standing position. He gazed at the boy, unremittant hatred lurking on every corner of his face as he spoke.
"Lesson One of being a Death Eater," he began, speaking in almost a scholarly tone, "The Dark Lord is an extremely skilled Legilimens. Unless you plan on training your mind to be an Occulumens like myself or your beloved Professor Snape, then I suggest you keep your insulting thoughts out of your head. I don't appreciate your candor on my assignments." Draco's eyes went wide. Caliban had been reading his thoughts?
"Yes," the man said simply enough, lifting his wand high into the air, "and you should remember well to keep them hidden next time. CRUCIO!" The red beam hit Draco hard and he fell to the ground, screaming and writhing in agony. He had felt the effects of the cruciatus once or twice before, but never with as much hatred and force as now. The pain continued for several seconds, before Caliban let up. Draco continued to cry in pain, tears flowing freely as his limbs continued to spasm at irregular intervals.
"Petrificus Totalus," Caliban intoned, instantly stopping all of Malfoy's movement. His body wanted desperately to fight against the curse, to try and relinguish all of the pain by exercising his muscles and stretching them out. Binding them up gave no release for the pent up suffering, and Malfoy's eyes bulged at his overly strained nervous system. Caliban merely stared at him for a moment, driving home his point, before releasing the curse. The pain shot out in one desperate scream and Malfoy flayed out, nearly unconscious from the affair.
He laid that way several moments, his body wracked with light sobs and every nerve ending lit ablaze. After a few minutes, Caliban moved from where he was standing and pulled out a potion from his belt. He knelt down and forced it down Malfoy's throat. It tasted rotten, with a mixture of flavors that nearly made Draco gag on reflex. Caliban silently rubbed his throat, making sure the potion went down. In almost an instant the pain seemed to ebb away slightly, though a lingering ache still remained. It was enough that Draco was able to sit up and collect himself. He tried desperately to clear his mind of every single thought going through there at that very moment. Caliban smirked.
"You learn fast," he replied, forcefully lifting Malfoy up by the arm and setting him up on the bed. "Most of the servants I train are not so quick on the uptake." He paused a moment before moving a chair to the other end of the room, sitting across from Malfoy. He gently placed his wand in his lap and folded his hands, not at all hiding the fact that the pain could return at any moment. "My cruciatus is not nearly as powerful as the Dark Lord's, should you truly make him mad. I believe I may be the only one who has ever felt his true wrath." He paused and got a far away look in his eye that made Draco wonder for a brief second. Caliban quickly returned to the present and pulled two books out of his robes. Handing them to Draco, he smirked.
"The top book is a guide to mastering occulumency. I instruct all of my apprentices to engage in the exercises, if for nothing else than to help their patience and their inner control. The second book is for our plans..." he waited for Malfoy to open the second book, a golden covered pamphlet actually, and scan through it.
"This is a book on parliamentary procedure," Draco noted, seeing that it was published by the Ministry of Magic. "What good is this to us?" he asked, not letting his arrogance interject into his voice.
"Your father is currently in Azkaban," Caliban explained, "and even when the Dark Lord frees him it is going to be some time before he can resume his place in the Ministry. Sadly for him, the old Imperious trick isn't going to work this time." Draco restrained an angry outburst as best he could at the smile that formed on Caliban's face. Instead, he merely offered a question.
"You have a problem with my father?" Caliban looked at him, almost with a hint of a glare forming.
"I have a problem with anyone who thinks that being a Death Eater is nothing more than a fashionable cause. Your father sways in which ever way the wind blows. Should the Ministry destroy the Dark Lord tomorrow he would go cowering down in front of their hero Potter." After a sneer he added, "And you'd be right next to him."
Almost all of Draco's control lashed out at this, and he felt his wand slip into his hand. Caliban eyed him for a moment, but said nothing. After several moments Draco calmed down and placed his wand back in its holster, not eager to have a repeat performance under the cruciatus.
Caliban sighed, but continued with his plans. "Regardless of my feelings, the fact is that your father did hold a seat on the Wizengamot. Since the Malfoy line is a patriarchal one, and you are currently the only male heir of that family, you shall inherit his seat until such time as he is free from Ministry charges." He paused before adding, "Make no mistake, you're liable to lose a good chunk of the power that he once wielded. I half-suspect that as a move to save face the Minister will force the Malfoy's to fork over a large portion of their fortune, but since you have no true enemies on the body and more than a few friends, you won't lose all your power.
"That book is so that you don't bungle your appearance at the session in two weeks time. I want you to know the procedures backwards and forwards. Since no one suspects you are marked, you are a potential advantage to our mission. You are able to go places, see things and overhear conversations that I cannot be privy too. Success will be rewarded. Failure...will we won't dwell on that." Caliban finished and stood up, as if to leave, but Malfoy wouldn't let him.
"I have a few questions for you," he asked, trying to sound as curious as possible without being forceful. Caliban looked at him and sighed, sitting back down. For whatever reason, he chose to indulge the younger man. "Earlier today," Malfoy began, "we went all those places without the mudbloods and the idiots of the Ministry seeing us. Surely they'd recognize you." Caliban nodded and answered.
"The robes I gave you are charmed," he explained. "To all outward appearances you and I are simply a non-descript pair of wizards travelling through the alley. We went to Knockturn first in case they didn't work, which can be a problem sometimes." He paused for a moment before continuing. "And yes, they would recognize me."
"What were we doing there anyway?" Malfoy asked, this time a bit impatient. "It's obvious Potter wasn't there." At this Caliban simply chuckled.
"Ah but he was there, at least a few days ago. You see, wherever a witch or wizard goes, no matter how weak they may be, they leave a magical resonance trail. This trail is easily distinctable to someone of my talents, and we were following Mr. Potter's. The neighborhood we first appeared in has been his safehouse for some time, a fact that the Dark Lord knew of but was unable to act on due to the wards surrounding the boy. Following that trail I knew he went to the alley, and stopped first at Gringott's. The damn goblins set up a masking charm on their building preventing me from investigating further, but suffice it to say there was a second trail of his leading out of the bank, one that was much stronger than the first." He contemplated for a moment, allowing Draco to interject.
"How could that happen?"
"Uncertain," was the only reply Caliban gave, now throughly engrossed in his own thoughts. He later added, "Something must have happened to him inside the bank, and we'll have to make the right contacts to find out what. Regardless he stopped at Malkin's and then at the bookstore before leaving the Alley. He went to that back area three blocks from the Leaky Cauldron and then the trail suddenly vanished."
"Vanished?"
"Yes, as in he must have apparated away." At this Draco snickered.
"Potter? Apparate? He can't even brew the simplest healing salve right. If he apparated his innards are probably scattered across half of London by now." Caliban scowled at him, holding his wand upwards, causing Malfoy to cower back in fear.
"Need I remind you that the boy was certainly capable enough to defeat our Master when he was a mere infant, and he has faced him thrice since then and emerged relatively unscathed each time. It would not do to underestimate your enemy Draco." The glimmer of his wand against the waning room light more than stopped any remark that might have come to Malfoy's lips at that moment.
"For now," Caliban continued, lowering his wand, "I will make with my contacts and find out what I can. We still have no idea what this heir of Slytherin is like and given the fact that the Ministry has scoured the scene of the raiding party by now, it's doubtful we'll get any kind of lingering trail on him. Regardless we'll wait here for the remainder of the day and tomorrow as well. Perhaps luck will transpire to our way."
/ - / - / - /
The soft chiming of a clock awoke Remus Lupin from his self-induced nap. He nearly jumped out of his chair, and looked around uncertain of his surroundings. Once he was awake he sighed to himself and hung his head in frustration.
It had been two days since he had learned from Tonks that Harry had up and vanished, and he was going stir crazy just sitting here. He should be out looking for the boy, not bottled up in this run down mansion waiting for the next Death Eater to waltz right up and do Merlin knows what to the poor lad. However, he still had a bit of respect for the headmaster's wishes, and thusly allowed himself to remain here while slowly going stir crazy.
His own obedience was spurred on by the fact that Tonks was there to comfort him. He had taken respite in her presence, as it eased the pain of loss that he felt for losing his second brother for the second time. He wasn't sure if she spurred any other feelings beyond that, and to be quite frank in his current condition he was in no mood to think it over anyway. Still, at the back of his mind, having her there made things better, if only by a small margin. He had no question in his mind however that she was likely there, at least partially, on Dumbledore's orders to keep him there while the headmaster and the rest of the Order searched for Harry to place him back to the safety of his muggle relations.
Remus sighed and leaned forward in his chair, resting his chin on both of his hands. He sank into deep thoughts about a certain subject that had only recently appeared in his head. Something about that concept, the 'safety of his muggle relations,' cause Remus a great deal of concern. In truth it always had, as if there were some hidden truth that lay just beyond his grasp, just beyond his recollection. It was frustrating to say the least. When he had approached Harry on the subject once or twice about how his aunt and uncle treated him, the quiet boy had merely muddled his way through what Remus could tell were half-truths and outright lies. However Remus could tell that he was obviously uncomfortable with the subject and had not broached it with him again. The more he dwelt on it however the more he chided himself on the fact that he hadn't explored it more...for some strange reason.
He was broken out of his stupor by a peck on the window. Raising an eyebrow he gazed over and stared befuddled at the window. He had expected an owl to be there from the sound of the pecks. Making sure his wand was firmly within reach he slowly paced over to the window and opened it a crack, large enough for him to stick his head out briefly and look around. At first he saw nothing but heard the distinct sound of fluttered wings. Turning around he was quickly floored by the appearing sight before him. There, sitting on the bed, was Harry's familiar, Hedwig.
Remus nearly ran over to the bird and frantically pulled out the offered piece of parchment. He read it quickly, eager to garner any information about Harry's whereabouts. When he finished reading the letter his face was equal parts confused and concerned. He read the letter again, making sure to commit every syllable to memory. When he was finished, he sat down on the bed, trying to figure everything out.
What was it he was supposed to remember? Harry seemed adamant that there was something key that Remus was forgetting, and for the life of him he couldn't even fathom what it was. One thing was certain, this much Remus knew. He would respect Harry's wishes on the matter. Though he knew Dumbledore would likely kick him out of the Order for doing so, Remus truthfully felt like he had little else to lose.
Flushing around on a desk for a piece of parchment he wrote a reply, including a place he knew they could meet securely the next day if possible. Sealing the parchment carefully and handed it back to the owl, who promptly disappeared and flew out of the room, leaving Remus staring for a moment. He hadn't figured on Harry or Hermione being capable of casting that complex a charm. Shrugging it off, he moved to gather a few of his things. He was leaving Grimmauld tonight, and he would not be coming back for some time.
/ - / - / - /
The day passed in relative quiet for Harry and Hermione, as each of them had eventually found their way to the library and was looking over books and such. Hermione had nearly been overwhelmed by the sheer volume of information in the Potter Family Library, but she had eventually taken books from all sorts of subjects and began to read, absorbing every little tidbit of information. As had been the case at the bookstore, Harry found that the simplest books on Potions and Charms were below him, and some of the more advanced ones were not sailing so far over his head. Finally he had decided to brush up on his history of magic, merely as an afterthought. Surprisingly he found he was actually enjoying the subject, without an ancient spirit droning on about the stuff.
He was halfway through a partial history of the wizards of Egypt when he heard a solemn hoot from overhead. He looked up and saw the reappearing Hedwig flying towards him. He smiled partially when he saw the two pieces of parchment in the owl's talons. Hermione looked up as well, quick enough to see the final bit of the disillusionment charm fade from Hedwig. She sat, wide-eyed for a moment, as the bird swooped down at Harry's side and held out the parchment for him.
"Thank you girl," Harry replied softly, gently stroking the bird's head as she almost glared at him, as if to say she wasn't moving another inch without some sleep. A nod and smile from Harry was the only gesture needed for the bird, who flew into another area of the house, no doubt looking for a place to sleep. Hermione walked over from the chair where she had been sitting towards the couch where Harry was, and he scooted over to make room for her. She eyed the pieces of parchment with a bit of worry in her eyes.
"I owled Ron and Remus this morning," he explained. She frowned at this, she didn't want to be found by anyone. But at least it was people they could trust. Harry seemed to read this fully and placed a reassuring arm around her shoulder. "I used a disillusionment charm with a time delay effect on it," he explained mechanically, as if it were common variety magic. "Essentially Hedwig couldn't be seen unless she was in the presence of Ron or Lupin." Hermione's eyes went wide at this, a gesture not unseen by Harry. He pushed it aside for a moment and pulled out the first letter. He noted from the quick scribble of handwriting that it was from Ron.
Harry,
I don't know quite what to make of this, but your secret is safe with me. I just hope we can talk when this is all over. I got a bad feeling you won't like what I tell you.
Send my best to Hermione
Ron
Harry was to be honest a bit stunned with the reply from Ron. He had half-expected the redhead to be vehement about trying to squeeze every little detail out of him. Chalking it up to good luck, he mentally noted to be able to talk to Ron as soon as possible. He would do it now, were it not for the fact that Ron would be unable to escape from his parents, whom Harry was currently listing as firmly under the camp of Albus Dumbledore for the time being. He pulled out the second letter, far more lengthy than the first, and began to read it.
Dear Harry,
I'm glad to hear from you. More than you can possibly know. I don't understand why you've run off like this, or why you've decided to give everyone a right scare. But I suppose it could just be a rebellious streak coming out in you. Just like your father in that regard.
I will however respect your wishes on this matter and not divulge the contents of our conversations. Suffice to say Sirius was not and I am not entirely pleased with the Headmaster regarding certain, shall we say, elements of your education. I believe this is one of the things you wish to discuss.
I am also curious as to what it is I am supposed to remember. I have an inkling of what you're talking about, at least to the point that it's something important, but I hope you can jog my memory. In regards to a meeting place, Grimmauld is not secure. Tonks is here almost constantly and there are several Order members in and out. As it is I have decided to take a leave of absence from the Order for the time being until such time as the Headmaster will have regained my trust. To that effect I will return to my cottage in the south of Wales tomorrow night.
However, I do not think that place is secure either. To that end, I suggest you meet me at Gringott's tomorrow. I will have already reserved conference room 5 for a meeting with the goblin's at three o'clock in the afternoon. Hopefully you will be able to show. This is the one place we can be certain Dumbledore will not be able to hear us. Hermione is welcome to come too should you feel the need to protect her more. If you are able to come, please inform the goblins that you've accepted my invitation. You can call them via the floo or by owl, the floo would probably be the quickest and most secure way.
I have no doubt you will have ways of getting around without being seen. To that end, I eagerly await speaking with you again Harry.
Sincerely,
Mooney
Harry put down the letter and stared out towards nothing. Hermione took the opportunity of grabbing the letter from her and re-reading it herself. She placed it down and saw the determined look in Harry's eyes.
"Harry, I know you're more powerful now but...if Dumbledore or...if Voldemort catches you then..." Harry looked at her, a somber tone on his face.
"I'm not going to walk around on eggshells 'Mione," he replied, simply and candidly. "We are safe here, and I can take steps to make sure we're safe out there. I trust the goblins, in fact I've been meaning to go see my account manager anyway." He contemplatedit for a moment before standing up and heading towards a fireplace in the corner. Hermione rushed over to him, causing him to turn and add "Don't worry, it'll be alright." He offered a faint smile, which Hermione regarded for a moment before smiling back.
"I'm going with you," she said firmly, "If for my own sanity." Harry nodded and Hermione went back to her books.
He turned back towards the fireplace and grabbed a pinch of powder from the jar on the mantle. Throwing it into the fire he clearly intoned "Gringotts Bank." A few moments later a nameless goblin appeared in the fire. "Hello, I'd like to speak with Griphook please." The goblin appeared a bit bewildered that the wizard would actually want to speak to a named goblin, but said nothing, just as quickly vanishing back into the fire. A few moments later Griphook's face appeared.
"Ah, Mr. Potter. I've been expecting your call." The goblin offered a toothy grin. "And firstly might I thank you for naming me your account manager. It's certainly a large promotion for me."
"I trust you," Harry offered up simply. "I would like to meet with you tomorrow morning regarding my accounts and the properties I own." Griphook nodded and wrote something down.
"Very well, 9 o'clock sharp then. Is there anything else?"
Harry paused for a moment and decided to end a nagging question at the back of his mind. "A letter I got from Haiden Orlock said that my trust vault has had several withdrawals over the years. Have you found out from who?" Griphook frowned and shook his head.
"Unfortunately no. Whomever did has covered their tracks well. Speaking of the Haiden though...he forgot to mention to you after your inheritance ritual." Griphook was about to go on, but Harry cut him off, catching him off guard with the language he used.
"I'd rather speak of that in a more secure manner." he stated plainly in the goblin language. He knew the floo was more than likely secure, but this bit of information was important to keep to very few people as possible.
"You speak the goblin tongue," Griphook replied, more than a little impressed. "Haiden Orlock said that you were a wizard full of surprises. Anyway, he failed to mention that several of the possessions of the Founders were left in our care, but several more have been taken over the year's by Dumbledore and the school. I was wondering if you would like them returned to you." Harry smiled and got a wicked grin on his face.
"Yes, certainly, as soon as possible, so long as he doesn't know who's taking them back," he replied, with more than a bit of mischievous venom seeping into his voice. Griphook nodded and bid Harry farewell, and quickly the flames returned to their natural glowing orange color. Harry backed away and allowed a Cheshire grin to form on his face. He'd give half the gold in his vaults to see the look on Dumbledore's face if the goblin's acted with the immediacy he expected them too.
/ - / - / - /
Albus Dumbledore, though still a bit of a frazzled mess over dealing with the Potter disappearance, had allowed himself to temporarily indulge in a well-meant dinner. He wasn't quite sure what had happened to a couple of house elves on the payroll, but had quickly dismissed them when they had vanished. Nevertheless he cared less really, the food was still good. And he had decided to spoil himself this evening, dining on Ravenclaw's own personal china and with Hufflepuff's personal cutlery.
He was about to dig into the meal before him when the doors to the Great Hall burst open, and Albus looked up to see Argus Filch running in like death itself was at his heels. Albus put the fork down and stared at the caretaker, who's panicked look made Dumbledore pause.
"Headmaster," the squib yelled, clearly out of breath. "Things---things are---disappearing---all over the castle." Dumbledore eyed the man for a moment, before trying to reassure him.
"I'm certain you're just imagining things Argus." At that Albus plucked a piece of steak up with the silver fork and prepared to place it in his mouth. There was a faint poofing noise, and the steak that had been stuck instead spiraled to the ground with a rather resounding splat. Albus looked down confused, noticing that the fork...and the rest of the cutlery had gone missing. A few moments later and he heard a few more poofing sounds.
As he stared out through the open doors he saw suits of armor, tapestries, and paintings disappearing at random. He heard a poofing sound closer to him, followed by the annoying sound of food landing flat on the table. He glanced down and mumbled under his breath when he saw his dinner was no sitting flat on the table...with no plate to go with it. A moment later the goblet he had been using disappeared as well, causing pumpkin juice to splash all over himself and his food.
"Sound the alarm Argus!" Dumbledore finally screamed with a bit of anger in his voice. "The castle is under attaaaaaaaaack!" He couldn't finish the sentence correctly, seeing as how his golden throne of a chair, straight from Salazar Slytherin no less, had just left him. Dumbledore fell backwards, landing rather hard on his arse. And causing a snarl to form under his normally calm demeanor.
A/N: Thought I'd end on an attempt at humor there. The meeting with Lupin comes next chapter. Special Thanks to harmswife for the idea to have Lupin meet Harry at the bank, a brilliant idea that I have no qualms with incorporating!