I borrowed the title from Gilderoy Lockhart. I don't think he'd mind it.
A warning for occasional coarse language would be appropriate, I think – mostly due to the presence of Lucy Dawlish and Sirius Black.
Otherwise, ENJOY!
GADDING WITH GHOULS
"Who is the third who walks always beside you?
When I count, there are only you and I together
But when I look ahead up the white road
There is always another one walking beside you
Gliding wrapt in a brown mantle, hooded
I do not know whether a man or a woman
-But who is that on the other side of you?"
/ T.S. Eliot /
Chapter 1 – Strange Alliances
Albus Dumbledore seemed like a kind and benevolent man, but he partook certain features that made him downright frightening at times.
For one, you could never be sure when was he joking. Sometimes, you got the feeling that he'd never had a serious thought in his life; and some other times, he was the epitome of wisdom itself, and you wouldn't dare take as much as a loud breath in his presence. Yet other times, you got the impression that everything Dumbledore said or did was only an act: a product of meticulous planning and ruthless calculation.
For most people, the mere reputation of the old wizard was enough to suppress such scornful inclinations of thought – but Lucy Dawlish was not most people. She was, at present, a time-shell ready to explode as soon as she felt a trap. And if to avoid said trap, she needed to turn down the most powerful wizard in Britain… well, then she would do exactly that.
Until the moment of action came, though, all she could do was wait at the feet of the stairs and wriggle the creases of a faded tapestry between her fingers. She wondered how many other people had wriggled the same creases in the same tapestry before, and if their thoughts had been by any means similar with hers.
More than a year had passed since Dumbledore appeared on her doorstep high up in Balaur-colţ,withoutwarning or explanation, and took her on a walk around the dragon reserve. Later, when they were well out of sight and thoroughly lost in the picturesque landscape, he announced that he had a task for her.
Two hours of utter nonsense ensued – about secret vaults that had been locked for centuries, about a curse that was protecting them, and about enraged dragons roaming the deepest hindquarters of Gringotts. At first, it all sounded like an extract from a storybook, then like a tasteless joke, and then… then, like some twisted, far-fetched piece of reality that was almost too crude for Lucy to believe. Almost.
Dumbledore, to his credit, had been honest with her; probably more honest than he usually was with anyone. He had not told her everything, far from it (Lucy would have been actually quite puzzled if he had), but their deal was easy, fair, and clear. If the vaults were to be opened, and the curse broken, the goblins would get their most secure vaults and most prized possessions back; the Ministry would finally have the means to pay its debts; and she, Lucy Dawlish, would get fabulously rich. In shorter words, Dumbledore had summed up his monologue with a dazzling smile, everyone would win.
That statement made Lucy wonder what Dumbledore would gain by such an operation, but she decided to put that aside for the time being.
Explained by her old Headmaster, the whole plan sounded easy and trivial… but reality, of course, was profoundly different. Since the sealing of her accord with Dumbledore, Lucy had already managed to enrage three goblin officials, break a vase worth of a thousand Galleons in Griphook's office, and rekindle her all-too-stormy relationship with curse-breaker Bill Weasley for the sixth time, just as she'd sworn she would never do. However, time went on, and she got decidedly better at handling her new life (and perhaps at handling Bill Weasley as well).
Speak of the devil, Lucy thought as she heard the all-too-familiar pattering of dragonhide boots over age-old stone, as their owner raced along the corridor below her.
Of course Bill would come. Of course he wouldn't miss a single word of her meeting with Dumbledore… although for once, Lucy wished he would. She had no idea what to expect, but that did not lessen the gripping certainty that whatever was to come, Bill was not about to like it.
Still, when the tall, lanky wizard put an arm around her and buried his face in her hair (his own hair was far too long and ruffled, and it smelled like Muggle cigarettes), she felt an overwhelming surge of warmth. Bill Weasley was like a rock, her rock; secure, unmoving, and loyal to death. And if she had to let him kiss her, caress her, throw her on his bed to keep him around, she would do all that… She did love Bill in her own way, and it was beyond comforting to feel the tip of his fang-shaped earrings press into her neck.
"Hey," Lucy murmured, when their embrace stretched too long to her liking. "How are your fake golden cauldrons?"
"They're missing you," Bill mumbled. "You know… Griphook is still livid about that vase…"
"Goblins are always so blunt – why wouldn't he just admit that it was dead-ass ugly anyway?!"
"Now-now. How much more time in Gringotts will it take to teach you that being dead-ass ugly doesn't equal being worthless?" Bill rolled his eyes, quite dramatically so, and they both laughed.
A door opened somewhere far above, and they both tensed at the slow, iron-bound pace of approaching steps. Lucy knew only one person in the world who walked in such a way; and facing her now felt surreal, as if someone had played with a Time-Turner and thrown her some six years back.
"Professor McGonagall!" She all but shouted, alarmed, curious and ridiculously overjoyed at the same time. "We were just hoping to…"
"…wish me a good evening, I presume," said their former Head of House with the shadow of a smile on her austere face. "As do I. Miss Dawlish, Mr Weasley, please follow me. The Headmaster is waiting for you."
Lucy risked a questioning look at Bill as they were climbing the stairs, but the only thing she could see on his face was the reflection of her own bewilderment. Why would Dumbledore agree to meet them so openly, in his own office, and on top of it all, announced…?
As she entered the Headmaster's office in McGonagall's heels, Lucy felt once more like going back in time. The strange, smoking machines still hummed in the background with quiet intensity, the portraits of deceased Headmasters still graced the long left-side wall, and Fawkes the phoenix was still sitting idly on his golden perch. At the sight of the newcomers, however, he made a delighted crackling sound with his beak, and let out a single trill.
With an effort, Lucy tore her eyes away from the phoenix and bid good-evening to Dumbledore. Only then did she notice that the old Headmaster was not the only person present in the room. Three chairs were gathered around the central desk; one was occupied by Professor Severus Snape, one by Charlie Weasley of all people, and one by a short wizard with straggly ginger hair. Dumbledore himself was pacing back and forth in front of the fireplace, heatedly explaining something for none other than Remus Lupin, who was half-sitting half-leaning on the edge of the desk.
When he heard Bill's and Lucy's greetings, Dumbledore spread his arms as if he'd been graced with the greatest joy of his life.
"Ah," he said lightly, "excellent. Please join us. A few introductions are necessary, I trust…" He turned to the ginger-haired wizard. "Mundungus, let me introduce Miss Lucy Dawlish and Mr William Weasley, both employees of Gringotts Wizarding Bank. Miss Dawlish, Mr Weasley, the gentleman here is Mundungus Fletcher."
"Nice t'meet ya," Mundungus mumbled and offered them both a languid handshake, which immediately crushed Lucy's illusions about him being a gentleman.
"Also," said Dumbledore elegantly, "Mr Weasley, I trust you've never met my friend Remus Lupin before."
Bill and Remus shook hands at the edge of Lucy's vision, and she found herself giving a polite nod to the wizard without ever bothering to look at him. She felt that Remus was trying to catch her eye, but she wouldn't allow it. Not for the world, she thought as she exchanged greetings with the others.
She glanced at Charlie instead, and mouthed what the heck are you doing here, to which Charlie gave an almost invisible shrug, and countered with where in Merlin's name did you go?!
It would have been Lucy's turn to shrug if she did not suddenly feel Dumbledore's eyes on her.
"Thank you all for coming," said the old wizard. "I took the courage to initiate this small meeting, since there is need to clear up a few things between us – all of us. But before we get to that, please let me offer my most excellent lemongrass tea to our new guests! It would be a shame to keep them out of it, really."
Minutes later, Lucy was sitting in a freshly conjured armchair in front of the fireplace, with Bill on her right and Fawkes in her lap. The phoenix had landed on her knees as soon as she sat down and pecked at her fingers for scratching (which she willingly provided). It took her best effort not to sway or fidget as she sat; Charlie was still staring dumbfoundedly at her, Remus was adamantly trying to catch her glance, Bill's knee was pressing into hers, Mundungus was openly checking her out and McGonagall was probably mentally criticising her pose as she sat. All things considered, Lucy was quite thankful to receive the perpetual death stare of Severus Snape: at least that was something she remembered from her Hogwarts years.
"As I was saying," continued Dumbledore cheerfully, "we need to clarify a few details. Last year, you have all agreed to help me execute a plan of great importance, which requires close association with certain Ministry forces."
Here, Dumbledore nodded at Lucy. Charlie mouthed what the bloody hell behind the Headmaster's back, and Lucy herself tried her best to look neutral.
"Said plan," Dumbledore went on, "consists of many steps, and I am happy to announce that quite a few of those have already been taken. As you may know, the Ministry of Magic has been trying to gain access to a certain group of ancient Gringotts vaults, named The Sequestrum, ever since the war against Grindelwald. These have been sealed for centuries, and even the Goblins themselves seem to have lost their ability to open them. The vaults are cursed, and an entire colony of dragons – who had previously been charged with their safekeeping – went wild, making access to The Sequestrum seem impossible." Dumbledore made a vague gesture with his hand. "Miss Dawlish and Mr Weasley have agreed to make an attempt at reopening the vaults, employed personally by Cornelius Fudge upon my humble suggestion – with certain obligations of confidentiality, of course."
Lucy had to suppress a grin; summarized like that, her life sounded like some Muggle comic strip from the seventies… and Charlie's face was priceless. She couldn't fault him, though; the only thing he'd ever seen her do outside school was chasing dragons.
"Meanwhile," continued Dumbledore cheerfully, "both Minerva and I resumed our separate researches concerning the Sequestrum, and we have come to several conclusions. Since the vaults were built well before the establishment of the Wizarding Bank out of personal goblin property, they open with a key operating with goblin magic, and not goblin magic itself as is the case today with the vaults of some ancient families. Several medieval accounts discuss the topic, and I shall now spare you the story of how we placed them together to patch out the truth… The key to The Sequestrum, however, still exists, and – as I have found out with the help of our friend Mundungus – it is currently locked inside the vitrines of a great (if somewhat eccentric) collector in the heart of Transylvania. He bought in in Borgin & Burkes, quite a few decades ago; and he has absolutely no idea about its worth, or function. Neither had Borgin, for that matter."
Bill gave a start. "But that is excellent news, Headmaster! If we could only retrieve the key…"
"Ah, yes, the key," Dumbledore sighed dreamily. "But alas! the key is not everything we need. We must be prepared to anything that might happen once we have opened The Sequestrum, if we ever get the key. Because, you see, certain complications may present themselves."
"For example," said Lucy in a head-voice she had not known she could produce, "the current owner of the key may not want to part with it."
Dumbledore nodded. "To be very clear, Miss Dawlish, the key to the Sequestrum is currently owned by a vampire, named Sanguini. Well-travelled as you are, you may have heard of him."
"Sanguini?" Said Charlie in a very strange voice. "Isn't he the guy who murdered an entire Romanian village on a whim?"
"That's the one," Lucy made her best attempt at a nonchalant grin. "Sounds great! When do we start?"
"Tomorrow," said Dumbledore. "Remus has offered his experience and Mundungus his connections; and all things considered, I have come to the conclusion that you, Miss Dawlish, are the best choice for them as a third companion on their mission in Transylvania."
Lucy was quite certain she'd misheard. "Me?"
"None else!" Dumbledore nodded cheerfully.
"So… Headmaster, just to be entirely clear… you'd have me quit my job at Gringotts, all so suddenly, and run off to Transylvania to rob a notorious mass murderer…?"
"No!" Bill closed his eyes for moment, as if to calm down. "Headmaster, with all due respect, that is a terrible idea! Lucy is needed here, in Gringotts…"
"For the time being, she is needed with Remus and Mundungus," countered Dumbledore decisively. "She shall return to England once the task is done. Cornelius gave his blessing, and so did Griphook."
And neither had bothered to tell me about it, Lucy thought with a flare of helpless anger, which turned into suspicion as she eyed the younger Weasley brother.
"Charlie," she snapped. "What is your role in all this nonsense?"
"I'll see you three safely back in the reserve," said Charlie, a bit too quickly to her liking. "We'll stay in contact while you're… doing your thing."
Doing our thing, Lucy thought exasperatedly. Great.
Well, at least there would be dragons.
"I still think it's a terrible idea." Bill's expression was suddenly living up to his reputation of a runaway curse-breaker still chased by Chilean authorities.
"No worries, redhead," said Lucy (although she profoundly agreed). "I'll be alright."
"Alright?! On your first day in Romania, you'd gotten in a bar fight with three werewolves, for Merlin's sake!"
"It won't happen again." Lucy paid extreme attention not to meet the eyes of McGonagall or Snape. "Besides, my bar fight skills have quite improved since you last witnessed them."
"I'm not convinced!"
"Then don't be," said Lucy, running out of patience. "If you're determined to make your own life harder – all yours." She turned to Dumbledore. "What do I need to do?"
"You, Remus and Mundungus will find a way to approach Sanguini and retrieve the key," said Dumbledore. "Keep your eyes open. You may have heard about the Quidditch World Cup riot… something is happening, something changed, and I have quite obscure feelings about it. We will have another meeting tomorrow morning, at eight o' clock – afterwards, Severus and Minerva shall provide you certain things that might come handy on your journey."
"Thank you, Headmaster," said Lucy as politely as she could manage, and she bid good night to everyone.
As soon as she stepped out to the corridor, Charlie caught her arm.
"I… this will probably sound ridiculous, but I need your help with an angry dragon," he confessed. "Now."
Lucy raised an eyebrow. "Here? In Hogwarts?"
"Out in the woods. And the dragon in question is… well, it's Mizzet."
"Mizzet?!" Lucy snapped. "But what the fuck is he doing here?! Who dared to bring him out of the reserve without my permission?!"
She was suddenly so angry that she couldn't bring herself to care about her tone or language. First, she's being harassed by a goblin about a broken vase, then she finds out that she'll have to go on a secret mission with Remus Lupin, and now this…
Life was barrelling out of her control, and she was helpless as a new-born baby.
Charlie visibly steeled himself. "I will explain everything on the way," he said. "Let's go."
Bill's lean figure followed them as they stormed down the stairs and disappeared in the shadows of the entrance hall.
Back in Dumbledore's office, Mundungus Fletcher gave a thunderous sigh, and wiped his forehead with the back of his palm.
"Blimey, Albus," he murmured. "Y'sure about this? Sounds like the kinda witch who'd murder me in my sleep."
"I'm fairly certain that if Miss Dawlish were to murder you, she would do it face to face," said Dumbledore elegantly. "Fear not, my friend! If you get to know her, you will see that she has quite a sparkling personality."
Mundungus glanced around, not quite convinced. He might have been trying to catch Remus Lupin's eye, but the other wizard had already left; and all he earned was a somewhat mocking stare from Severus Snape.
When all his guests and colleagues had left, Albus Dumbledore opened a window with a swish of his wand, and quit his pacing for a silent, stolen minute to watch Hagrid as he walked through the fields and into the forest. He carried a giant crossbow on his shoulders, and he was whistling a happy (if somewhat false) tune.
This was going to be a long day.
(to be continued)
Author's Notes
There is a Harry Potter plot I've been sitting on for over a decade, then one day, I decided to write it...
...and lo, it becometh The Operation Sequestrum series. To check out the "Table of Contents", please visit my profile and/or sequestrumdotgportaldothu (I've been trying to devise a way to show a link since forever... sorry about the clumsiness).
Lucy Dawlish is an OC who has gone through quite a number of changes over the years. As of now, she is the daughter of the Auror John Dawlish. She started Hogwarts in the same year as Bill Weasley and Myron Wagtail.