Chapter 39 - The Story of the Magic Pill
As Harry and Hermione Disapparated from the downtown Toronto alley, back in London, Ginny was ushered into the Bank of Great Britain Penthouse office of Sir Isaac Umber. The tall distinguished gentleman met her at the door with a firm handshake and a warm smile.
So far, he was just as she read he was, and her gut feeling even before she met him was he had absolutely nothing to do with the robbery. The Ministry had rightly dismissed the evidence against him, the same evidence the goblins likely had. The man before her was not stupid and she immediately concluded that he was set up. She had a suspicion who; the question was why? And she did need to get something a bit more objective to help locate Ragnok, hoping that the man before him had some answers.
"Thank you for seeing me on such short notice, Mr. Umber. I know you're a very busy man," she greeted him, craning her neck up as they walked in.
"I read your weekly editorial," the older man confessed, motioning her to sit. "I've always wanted to meet the fiery soul behind the writing. How can I be of assistance?"
"In the interest of saving time I hope you won't take it against me if I ask blunt questions," Ginny decided on the approach considering he only gave her ten minutes.
"Merlin forbid we futz around at a time like this," his tone was a bit philosophical and seemed inwardly pleased he had come up with it.
"I'm working on a story about the Gringotts robbery. I have sources who say you know a lot about it."
"About the robbery?" Umber repeated, she noted the maneuver to delay, "I'm afraid that I don't know any more about it than the average Prophet reader."
A lie if she ever heard one. Maybe she was wrong about him being a good guy.
"You were one of the first to be brought in for questioning by the MLE."
"They did have good reason to. The MLE found several notes in my handwriting amongst Ragnok's possessions detailing the Gringotts strike."
"Do you know Ragnok?"
"Being a banker I've had to deal with Gringotts goblins countless times. I knew Ragnok. He was one of the more trusting ones and was quite reasonable to work with."
Umber talked of Ragnok with a tone of respect and remorse, and it did not escape Ginny how Umber referred to him in the past.
"You talk about him as if he's dead."
"I apologize for my insensitivity. That's just an old man talking. The Ragnok I knew was a family man. I was quite troubled when they said he had assisted in the robbery and had gone missing. He would never abandon them for any material treasure in the world."
Ginny could not agree more.
Umber added, "You must also know that the MLE and goblins found a cache of stolen items inside my vault at Gringotts. Half the missing items have been recovered."
"But the MLE cleared you."
"After interrogations with two of their best Legilimiens. They somewhat agreed with me that if I really robbed Gringotts I would not be foolish enough to stash it in my own vault. That and I clearly wouldn't write Ragnok in my own handwriting and use company stationary. It's a serious violation of bank rules and what would my staff think?"
How could he find something amusing in all that?
"You're being framed."
"Obviously."
"And you're not concerned?!"
"Young Miss Weasley, when you get to be my age not too many things will concern you."
An overwhelming impulse swelled within her and she could not control it. Ginny knew this man was innocent and could only think about the preventable injustice that was about to take place. She briefly thought about what her goblin contact would do if she did what she was about to do but decided whatever it was, she could deal with it later.
"Are you feeling okay, Miss Weasley? Can I get you something to drink? Tea perhaps?"
She shook her head.
"The goblins have decided your guilt. I'm certain you've heard of Goblin justice. They will make an example of you if only to prevent any future break-ins. You cannot come to that meeting they invited you to, at least not without a high ranking Ministry official."
Ginny was out of breath, both from the gravity of her warning and from the fact that what she just said seemed not to trouble Umber at all. In fact he was laughing. The man had lost his marbles.
"Our mutual friend at Gringotts was quite right about you."
"What do you mean?"
"The goblin who gave you my name. He said you would try to persuade me not to come as he has been since I got the invite late last night," he was smiling.
"And you're still going?"
"I'm an old man of some social standing. I cannot ignore a Gringotts inquisition. I must meet with them and settle the matter," he explained.
Surely, having dealt with goblins before, he knew settling the matter for them meant settling the matter their way.
"You must tell them someone is trying to frame you."
"Oh, they know. They even know who it was who robbed them, the same witch who wants to smear my good name."
"Lestrange."
Umber laughed, "See? Even you know. But the goblins will never make her pay and they need to make an example."
"How can you be okay with this?"
"Each of us has a role to play in the world we live in."
"And being scapegoat is yours?"
"Not sure yet. One never knows until one gets to that fork in the road and has to choose. But it's exciting to know the choices and try to figure out what's best, anticipate where that road will lead you, then see when you get there if you were right."
Ginny had decided then that as innocent as Sir Isaac Umber was of stealing from the goblins, he was definitely off his rocker.
"Why did she go through all that trouble to set you up? Why you?"
"That's a question you'd have to ask her. I'm afraid our time is up, Miss Weasley," Umber got up and said to her gravely with cold hard truth that unnerved her, "I know Ragnok was your friend, but do not waste your time looking for someone who is forever lost."
As she stood, she accidentally knocked over a book from edge of his desk onto the floor. She bent down to pick it up and it was only then that she noticed the aged area rug her feet had been on. Her heartbeat quickened considerably as she saw the design on it, somewhat jaded, and really out of place in the modernly designed office.
"Curious piece of rug you have here," she stood up and appraised it more from afar. A black badger standing tall over a lion, a snake and an eagle. "It reminds me of Hogwarts. We're you a Hufflepuff?"
He wasn't.
Umber joined her side, "I was sorted a Ravenclaw."
"You sound disappointed."
"I wish I had more loyalty."
"Is that what this piece depicts? That loyalty should be above courage, cunning and intelligence?"
"It's the family emblem and the rug was a hand me down. I believe its original owner, a great-great-grandmother of mine, was a Hufflepuff and to her it signified that her House was the best of the four at Hogwarts. There was another of my relatives who idolized Helga the Founder. It can signify whatever you fancy."
"What does it mean to you?"
"It reminds me that loyalty is important and that sometimes it's hard to be fiercely so; that situations will arise when you have to have courage, cunning and intelligence to remain loyal and show it," he said to her wistfully, "Of course, some will say if you are truly loyal you won't need any of the others to be so."
She handed him the thick hardbound book that fell on the floor but something caught her eye she did not let go.
"The Story of the Magic Pill," she read the title out loud as they both held on to the book with faded covers, each tugging back a bit.
Umber did not let go as he asked, "Do you read Muggle stories, Miss Weasley?"
"Not a lot but I've read this one. A friend of mine, a Muggle-born, brought it to my attention in the course of doing research for an article I wrote a few years back. Your office seems like an odd place for a children's storybook to be in."
The book looked older but otherwise appeared the same as the one Hermione lent her to read a couple of years ago.
"My granddaughter's, for when she comes in to visit. Did you like it?"
"Not really. I liked the part about young Helga discovering the pill that would give everyone the ability to do magic but it doesn't have a happy ending."
"No, it doesn't. It made everybody around her greedy and mean to each other."
"Made her wish she never made it in the first place. Not the traditional children's story ending one would hope for."
"No," he tugged a bit harder and she let go. "Have a good day, Miss Weasley."
"You, too, Mr. Umber. And best of luck with the goblins."
Ginny left the Umber office with mixed emotions. She was unable to find new information about Ragnok and the Gringotts robbery, except perhaps confirm that Umber was a fall guy. He had her wondering about the outcome of his meeting with the goblins, and if he wasn't concerned about it she wasn't going to be either. She still refused to believe what Umber said about Ragnok. It would not be real to her until she saw him, dead or alive.
And what a coincidence. It had been three years since she reluctantly accepted the assignment to write about the Hufflepuff prophecy. She had pursued it like she did any story, obsessively and hating each and every road block and dead end she met at every turn. Since going to Germany last year she did not have any new leads. The trail had gone very cold, until today.
She recognized the family coat of arms and the book that was supposed to define the family philosophy. Had she, in fact, found a Bruin? And if so, was it mere coincidence that Lestrange was trying to frame one?
XXXXXXXXXX
Sometime ago, Dean arrived at a popular Squib hang-out where two half naked lifeless bodies lay on the blood stained floor, beaten up almost beyond recognition. He watched Ministry forensics document the crime scene as he wondered why two known dangerous criminals, one a Squib and one a Muggle, would have wands. A Death Eater mark hovered over the victims.
A colleague talked to him, "Pummeled and then murdered with the killing curse. Talk about overkill."
"Lestrange does like to play with her food. Looks like she wanted to pass on a message," Dean replied, moving their garments a bit more off their torsos.
Flesh was carved off their chests and raw red muscle oozed with blood, forming a letter.
"And what message do you think is that?"
"I'm not sure," Dean replied with a foreboding feeling that something nasty was imminent, "But 'X' usually stands for danger."
XXXXXXXX
At St. Mungo's, a figure under an invisibility cloak was in the same room as the Miracle Squib awaiting the opportunity to be alone with him. He wondered when they were going to leave the poor man be. He was aching to get his job done and he had to go to Toronto.
Finally, it seemed that the final test had been drawn and the final snotty intern had seen and examined him. The Healer's assistant had drawn his privacy curtains in and he was told to get some rest.
After making sure they would not be rudely interrupted, he dispensed of the cloak temporarily. The still listless Argus Filch did not even recognize him when he appeared from under the cloak. It was unfortunate for them both that Filch did not die from the side effects of the potion. This errand was really beneath him but he had to tie up the loose end and to get it done right. The Death Eater traitor and the non-magical misfits he sold stolen potion to had been made examples of. The element of surprise was key for the Toronto operation's success. There would be no more unauthorized use of the purple potion in London prior to it.
He set down a thick collection of tattered parchment on a patient table right in front of the former Hogwarts caretaker.
"Imperio!"
One by one, Filch crumpled the pieces of aged parchment before him and started eating them. It would take longer than the Avada Kedavra but at least his death would be more meaningful and amusing.
On the twenty-eighth page of the rules and regulations he had compiled as Hogwarts caretaker, Argus Filch choked and breathed his last breath.
XXXXXXXXX
Sir Isaac Umber took out a rare coin collection of first print American silver dollars from his walk-in concealed safe and wrapped them. He would send them over to his friend at Gringotts, having just lost their friendly wager when the Prophet reporter warned him about the Gobbledegook inquiry. He really should have learned his lesson last year to never bet against a Weasley.
He had a few minutes before he was expected at the Wizards Bank. The old book on his desk was open on a still half empty page and black ink appeared on it as the final chapter of the story was magically updating itself.
Allowing Weasley to see the family emblem was intentional but her seeing the book wasn't. It would have only taken her a second to open it and realize that the hardbound was different from what she had read. The most glaring difference was that the one on his desk had no ending, at least not yet.
The Story of the Magic Pill was the worst Muggle children's story ever written. The mere thought that it was brought a smile to his face. It was first published some fifty years ago and it was never the author's desire to garner fame and fortune for it but it was a story that had to be written to help educate generations to be careful of what you dream of.
This particular copy that he had in front of him was different in that it was magically bound to an actual living individual, just as each of the others in his safe were. These individuals were a select group of women he had been somewhat watching over for years who had one commonality.
They were supposed to be dead.
The Hufflepuff prophecy not only warned of the chaos that a magic potion would bring, it also foretold of the one individual who would be involved in the upheaval, a powerful witch descended from the Squib who created it and parented by non-magical Purebloods. Many decades ago, an edict was passed by the Bruin elders that no Squib couple in the family would be allowed to raise daughters. Umber remembered the very first time he had to deal with one of the Bruin cursed, as these condemned babies were referred to. He was in Toronto with his wife and daughter, visiting family, unaware of the favour his cousin Ecruminus was about to ask of him.
"She's having a girl, Isaac," Ecruminus said to him nervously one night they were at a Muggle bar.
Ecruminus' Squib wife was pregnant with their first and was due to deliver any moment now.
"You don't know that," he tried to assure him.
"We had a skilled Healer try out this new gender detecting spell," his cousin explained.
"The Healer could be wrong."
"But what if she's right!? The Council will take our child away and kill her!"
Ecruminus was distraught. Isaac was not a Squib and neither was his wife. He would never have to go through what his cousin was going through but could relate. He and his wife would be devastated if anything happened to their daughter.
"You know how I feel about the rule that purely Squib couples in the family must not raise daughters. You knew that when you took a Squib for a wife. But we are not members of the Elder Council. We cannot change that and we have to abide. It's to protect against the fulfillment of the prophecy."
"She's only a child, a baby. Killing hundreds to protect against the prophecy that one such Bruin would come and make it a reality is sickening; it's murder! My daughter could be a Squib like me and her death would be for nothing," Ecruminus passionately made his sentiments known, "I need your help. You're the only one I can trust."
Isaac hesitated, unsure of what to say.
"I don't think I can, Crummy. The Council…"
"Please," his cousin pleaded, "You're a great wizard. When the baby comes you can hide her for us."
"Crummy, how would I do that?"
"I don't know, just keep her alive."
"But the Council already knows you have a baby coming. They will be suspicious."
"We'll tell them we had a miscarriage. That the baby died."
"They will investigate. They'll know. You won't be able to lie to them," Isaac was trying his best to persuade his cousin that it was not a good idea.
"I can if you do something with my memory."
"No!"
He had to draw the line.
"You're very good at memory charms and Obliviation," Crummy pointed the truth out. "If there was one person who could do this that would be you."
A few days later, Ecruminus and Daisy Brown became proud parents of an eight pound baby boy. Isaac was present at the time of the home delivery and he told his relieved cousin that he was worried over nothing. At that very moment, at a nearby Magical hospital birthing ward, another Squib couple was marvelling at seeing their baby for the first time after being taken right at birth for precautionary observation. Their baby was fine. They had a girl.
That was how it all started for him. He kept a close eye on his niece as he had promised Ecruminus before wiping his memory. She was a Math teacher at a Muggle school with a Muggle husband and two grown sons. Ecruminus would have been proud. She too was a Squib.
Over the course of time, with his active involvement in the Bruin cause to protect against the prophecy, he would encounter and come to know of Bruin Squib couples in the same situation, less so when gender detection spells and Muggle fetal gender tests became common practice. There were couples who pressed on hoping for leniency or hoping to hide their daughters as Ecruminus had. He could not stand back and idly watch the Council take the cursed daughters away. He saved those he could.
Umber may have disagreed with some of the methods used by the Council but he was not irresponsible. He tracked the lives of those he rescued with the thought that he would have to intervene if one of them turned out to be the ONE. As their number increased, that became a challenge. He found an ancient magical ritual that helped him do that through the pages of the book.
Of the dozen or so special books he had, three were very different in that right after dissolving a strand of hair into the pages of the Story of the Magic Potion as part of the rite, the final chapter of the book disappeared. The strands of hair, he would confirm later, belonged to those who had great magical potential.
The owner of the book before him was a most interesting find. More than twenty five years ago he got a panicky call from Toronto. Ecruminus said it was an emergency, that it involved family. He got to Toronto and found himself in the Muggle Toronto Hospital Intensive Care Unit beside his cousin, looking into a room through a glass window.
There was a young woman with brown hair lying motionless on the bed, hooked up to monitors and Muggle life support. She was pregnant.
"She's a Bruin, a direct descendant of the sister of the founder of this hospital," Ecruminus explained to him.
"What happened to her?"
"Car accident. Her husband died a few hours ago. She's been declared brain dead as well. The only reason she's on life support is because her baby's still alive."
"Why are we here?"
"She's a Squib and so is her husband," Ecruminus said sadly, "She was advised at the start of her pregnancy to get a sonogram. She refused and was being watched as a possible violator. She's having a daughter."
"Positive?"
"She had an ultrasound earlier today to check on the baby. It's confirmed."
"The Maples, huh?"
"She's a cardiologist. Her husband was a brain surgeon. I've been assigned to make sure it's done. We have to do something."
He pushed away an evil thought. What the baby's parents were should not matter. She may not be the one.
"I'll take care of it."
The following day, an emergency Caesarian section was performed. The doctors announced that the baby girl they delivered was stillborn and he had to Obliviate his cousin for the second time. Two days later, Isaac left a baby girl inside the home of a Muggle couple he had already identified as suitable parents for a future placement. The dentists had been married for more than five years and were told they could not have a child of their own. They had enlisted to adopt.
He left a copy of the book asking only that the child be loved as they would their own and to make sure she read the story.
Over the years he had come to watch her grow up from a distance. He made sure her Muggle parents would send her to Hogwarts and be accepting of the fact that she was a witch. Curiously, the title of the final chapter of her book first appeared the afternoon she was on the train to attend her first year at the Wizards School. He felt pride when he learned of her role in Voldemort's defeat, cementing his belief that he had done the right thing. That she chose to be a Healer was no surprise but it was certainly interesting that at this very crucial time in their family's history she would become very involved in it. And it was more interesting that words began to reappear again in the final chapter of her book the second she arrived in Toronto. What he read, so far, was all good.
The alarm on his watch sounded. He had to go. Umber put the book back into his safe amongst other similar looking books, took a small phial from a square wooden box and locked the secret compartment.
Knowing he would need it when he faced the goblins, he uncorked the phial and quickly drank the purple potion in it.