A/N: Thanks for everyone who's left a review, I really appreciate them. A little clarification on the AU bit: All the major events in the books have happened but with a more badass, knowledgeable Harry. The exception is fifth year (at the start of the story) where Sirius was actually being tortured in the ministry.
One of my main problems with canon was that the Marauders invented the map in fifth year. The Twins invented all kinds of madness and the Gryffindor Three... nothing. That hasn't happened in this 'verse.
Chapter Two – Third Party Goblins
Outside the Leaky Cauldron - 25th June
"All right, if you insist, I'll see you when you come back on the bus." Daniel Granger said as his sixteen year old daughter tried to hug the life out of him.
"Thanks dad. The pair of you will only get bored in Flourish and Blotts, why don't you two go find a good Waterstones or something?" She raised an eyebrow as Emma laughed.
"Don't give your mother ideas." He said, with a shake of his head as Hermione walked off and he lost sight of her. On an empty street. "I'll never get used to magic." He muttered under his breath.
You could almost see the newspapers being blown down Diagon Alley, as magicals far and wide celebrated and reunited with their children at the end of the school term. Tomorrow it would be a god-damned nightmare. For now Hermione had the safety of the empty street, her shield bracer, wand, and a whole new confidence to reassure her as she strode towards Gringotts.
The inside was as busy as the alley outside, a few goblins loitered doing paperwork and the guards themselves staring blankly at the walls. There was one other unwelcome customer.
"What do you mean, I can't access my vault yet!" A screaming Malfoy was yelling at one of the few goblin tellers on duty.
"I have told you already." The goblin announced quite loudly. "Vault ownership is only transferred after the will has been read, and not an instant before. I suggest you cease attempting to access money you do not yet own. Now, is there anything else I can help you with?" The goblin asked with a raised eyebrow as the one Hermione was waiting for strode into the room.
Moving over the desk he started to open she half-bowed and said what she believe to be the Gobbledygook for 'Greetings, Skullbreaker. May your gold run freely and your enemies be crushed.' Startled the goblin snarled and burst out laughing.
"A good attempt Lady Granger, but you really need to work on the '-arh:eh' and the gutturals." He said after he'd recovered. "Unfortunately we don't have any talking tomes available, but perhaps you should try learning Arabic first. Both tongues share the same origin."
Hermione bowed. "My regrets at mangling your language then. I hope it wasn't enough to warrant a declaration of war?" She asked sweetly. "And I am no Lady."
"We shall see." The goblin said dramatically, as though he knew something she didn't. "And yes, Hermione, it wasn't quite a declaration, but you were very close to one. Though I'm sure you'd find a way to make it profitable if you had." He pulled out a muggle style wallet. "The transaction you requested, with the additional security features."
"A pleasure working with you." Hermione said calmly, pulling her own knife to drip a bit of blood on the metallic symbol on the wallet before touching it. It flashed red. She gingerly reached down to pick it up and put it in her pocket.
"Most witches would check the amount first." Skullbreaker observed slyly.
Hermione placed a small potions vial containing a silvery liquid on the desk before stating calmly. "I trust you enough to shed blood on your magic, just as you trust my honour." She slid the vial across. "Payment for your services."
"Thank you indeed Lady Granger," He said, inspecting the vial greedily. "You and the others do us a great honour, as such, there is one last thing before you leave today." He opened the tellers window and placed a small stack of books in front of her. "A gift of goblin knowledge for such a valued customer."
"I have no need for charity." The ritualistic words were forced off of her tongue as her eyes and body went cold. The vial suddenly lost its allure for the goblin. She refused to show weakness. He had been certain the promise of knowledge would do it. He looked deep into her eyes and saw the magic dancing within. What kind of person has instilled such control in her he wondered, going over the information he had while she squirmed. Yes, it was worth the risk.
"Then I offer trade instead. Pertinent knowledge for pertinent knowledge." Skullbreaker smiled without bearing teeth. "Have you been claimed?"
Hermione froze, ice filled her veins as her mind went into analytical overdrive. The goblins had just gone from a neutral party to another player in the game. They knew something. A prophecy, perhaps? Or her feelings. Though from the scant few times she'd been in here they shouldn't have known that. So, denial, or truth. She eyed the books warily. She suspected that what little there was in there that would not be mutually profitable for both sides would not be worth it. For that was how the goblins operated. Still. They couldn't afford to loose it, and what good could it possibly do them?
Skullbreaker watched as the mind magic faded and the human left herself completely undefended. "I have made my choice." She said tiredly. "But I have not been claimed. If you are asking what I think you are."
The goblin nodded and added a slender tome to the top of the pile. "Confiscated from a vault long unclaimed. You might find it interesting." The goblin, bowed. "May your enemies drown in their own blood and your Lord's gold grow with each strike. Give my respects to the others." Hermione just stood there shocked as he strode off. That leave-taking wasn't in any of the books she'd read. Somewhat absently she placed the books into her expanded bag and turned as she felt wards she didn't recognise fall.
"Consorting with goblins is a new low even for you, you filthy mudblood. I'll be glad when the Dark Lord wipes you and your corruption off the face of this earth." Draco sneered into her face.
Hermione just stood there, puzzling over the teller that was not a teller, goblin motives, resources and reasons. Almost absently she looked back up at Draco. "I'm sorry, did you want something?" He blinked. She shrugged and walked off.
Draco looked like a fish on dry land. This had been one of the worst weeks of his life. First his father had died failing the Dark Lord and showing his utter incompetence by being unable to kill the skill-less Potter. The only bright side was that his aunt had finally managed to off that blood-traitor and free him to take control of the Black household. He smiled. Then he'd just need the Heir's ring and the ability to threaten some attractive, nubile girl's parents into signing a binding magical contract with him using her blood. He was getting bored of Parkinson. But no, the goblins claimed they couldn't do anything until the will reading. In a month. And his father's will apparently couldn't be sorted until the Black will was resolved. Which meant there was another month after that before he could claim his full inheritance as a dual lord.
But what really got under his skin, ignited the urge to go forth and slaughter was seeing that pretentious stuck up bitch of a mudblood get preferential treatment when he, Draco Bloody Malfoy was sneered at, degraded and insulted for his father; the bribe money needed to posthumously clear his name locked up in irritating laws and goblin vaults. The Bastards. When he reached his Majority on October the Thirteenth and came into his full power at Hogwarts they would rue the day they ever crossed him. He swore it. And spat on the floor to seal it.
The guard took great pleasure in throwing him ass over end out the door after a small fine for vandalism. Now he had even less money to survive on for a month. Damn his father for keeping everything in his name. Damn them all.
OoooOoooO
"Everything's fine dad, like I said last year I'm in this really awesome study group and we're like a year or two ahead of everything so none of us were worrying about exams. How's Uni going for Pete?" Hannah Abbot asked her father sweetly.
"Surprisingly well, he said. Couldn't believe he'd ended up with a first with all the other stuff he's been doing this year. Are you going to need help with your non-magical studies from him?"
"I'm doing fine dad, even in physics. Like I said last year, I know you were discriminated against, but I think I'll much better when it comes to finding a magical job."
He sighed. "Perhaps, but I really don't like the idea of my daughter getting involved in the kind of patrons that most muggleborn witches find."
"Dad! He's not like that." The old man snorted at her exclamation. "I'm serious dad, you'd have like tie him up and feed him a lust potion to get him to look at any of us like that." She sighed. "Not that I wouldn't mind if he did..."
"And that's what I'm worried about." He interrupted her daydream like expression. "All I want is to make sure you've got enough going on to make it in our world once you finally get tired of theirs."
Hannah giggled. "You don't have to worry about that. They're so busy being stuck in the seventeenth century they have no idea of the advances we've made." Her eyes gleamed, pale red encircling her irises for a moment as she shuddered. "Think of the spells that I can make now that I understand multidimensional calculus! They'll never know what hit them!"
They pulled to a stop in the garage, and he turned the key. Absently he looked at his slightly worried daughter as they left the car. "Isn't that degree level mathematics?"
"Yeah, errm." She looked down, wand suddenly in her hand. "Listen, could you do me a favour?"
"Anything for you, dear." He said with a smile.
"Can you... put my wand in one of your safes and..." She gulped, hand trembling as she offered it. "and not tell me which one. I just don't want to be tempted to cast a new spell. Or anything."
"Sure." He said, looking a little confused at her request. "Are you feeling alright, you're trembling."
"I... must have caught something at the station. Or something." Hannah muttered under her breath. It was taking a fair amount of effort to not take her wand back. That thin stick of wood made her feel safe, safe in the knowledge that she could beat anything that would oppose her. And she'd enjoy it. Like the rush of adrenaline, of condensed pleasure.
Following her dad as he levitated her trunk up the stairs and into the house, she promised herself that if the cravings didn't get better next year she'd give them up. The group could find someone else to research the dark arts and their counter-spells.
But then again, she'd said that last year.
OoooOoooO
A strawberry blond, haughty looking teen checked herself out in her hand mirror, putting the muggle make up away she then applied a layer of glamour charms, adding an extra twenty-thirty years to her age, tweaking her nose, body shape and height. The end result was a women just the attractive side of her mid-thirties, which was hopefully just enough to avoid unwanted attention. She was gambling that those who could see though glamours wouldn't see past the hair colour potion or make up and those that would recognise the make-up wouldn't see through the glamour.
Hermione Granger straitened up, thanked Merlin for Amelia Bones and set forth to test a theory of hers. "Point Me." She said softly to her wand as she walked out of a dead end alley in Magical London. Focusing on the idea of book stores she hadn't visited yet. Diagon Alley was just the entrance, after all, and Knockturn Alley was far too well known to be the only black market district around. The wand shivered, twisted and pointed further away from them both.
The first couple where junk shops. Trashy little places run by elderly wizards long past their prime, the accumulations of centuries accrued across shelves and tables. Still the ministry had never bothered to clean them out and the odd 'scourgify' often revealed the odd treasure long since banned. They were often rather pleasant people as well. There was one odd gentleman in particular that she felt exemplified the lot of them.
"What? What? Oh my." The bespectacled old wizard had said with a rather large grin as he closed his book and stumbled towards her, beard wrapped like a belt round his waist. "What's this? Oh, come closer young lass." He said as she nervously complied. "My, my no wonder I didn't recognize you, it's been a while since we've had anyone new come in here. Normally it's just the old crew you know, always asking if I've got new stock. But like Minister Bagnold, I say, my store never changes!" He blinked with a wide toothless grin. "But I'm rambling aren't I? Always do to a pretty face. Come in, come in. Take a look at my piles of, erm, well, stuff. Good word that, best invention of the eighteenth century. I think it was the eighteenth century."
Hermione couldn't help it. She giggled. "A pleasure to meet you. What would you recommend I took a look at?"
"Oh yes, where are my manners. I'm Datherby, Datherby Bint, former Gentlemanly Adventurer. Did you know our muggle counterparts empire covers most of the globe! Bloody marvellous bit of work that. Just got my collected curiosities here. All trinkets I've picked up over the years you know. Without an heir I might as well them off instead of letting them rot in some vault" He indicated a shelf that was a bit less dusty than the rest. "Why, that over there is my entire findings from an ancient burrow tomb in the heartlands of our green isles. Truly terrifying that was. All these barrow wights. Pah. Spent the entire time trying to fry their anchors with lightning. We weren't allowed Patroni in my day."
"Do you mind if I?" Hermione asked, pointing her wand at the shelf.
"Go ahead, I don't pay much mind to the newfangled idea of installing magical detectors in shops. I figure if anyone wanted to copy my books or steal things, Spotty'll stop them. I'm pretty sure the old elf is still around." He nodded at her quick cleaning charm. "Nicely done lass, now here we have a bunch of what I call hissing pyramids, never did quite get what they were for, then there's a couple of scrolls we recovered. Unreadable unfortunately, completely ruined by age..." He went on and on explaining each shelf, his accomplishments and with only a little prompting from her revealed the ancient books and other things that he'd used to do them.
It was with a little bit of trepidation that she finally left the store after having purchased three ornate wands, a set of five pyramids decorated with some kind of snake that hissed when touched, five items of unknown purpose but interesting runic design, a skeleton key, a 'chameleon cloak' because he didn't trust those 'newfangled invisibility ones', a splattering of rusty daggers engraved with various runes and forty three selected tomes she had never seen anywhere else, along with a copy of his private grimoire 'for the lovely lady' all for the glorious price of... seven galleons, a packet of polos and some cleaning charms.
Hermione figured he'd just liked the idea of having someone to talk too for two and a half hours.
She'd read in the History of Hogwarts that the previous Headmaster, Dippet, had been charge of the castle for over two hundred years before Dumbledore became the youngest headmaster yet to hold the post (at the tender age of seventy). She hadn't believed it. Meeting someone who actually was that old and had the items to prove it drove home just how strange reality could really be.
OoooOoooO
Number 4, Privet Drive
"Wotcher Harry." Tonks said before grinning like a girl possessed. "Is that a wand in you hand or are you just happy to see me?"
"Where's Order Headquarters?" Harry asked quickly, relying on the fidelius more than extractable knowledge.
"Twelve Grimmaud Place. The Black families least favourite property." She replied quickly, and Harry lowered his wand. "Nice wardwork by the way, didn't expect to run into them, kind of literally." She took in his stern look. "I'll replace them when I leave." She said quickly.
"Why didn't you trigger the alarm ward? Even if you broke it I should have noticed." He asked cautiously.
"Well, err, about that... Can't really tell you anything at the moment. Confidentiality contracts and all that." She carried on nervously. "Still, I'm your assigned watcher for the next eight hours. 'Dung is after me, so you've got a free sixteen without Dumbledore sticking his nose in. I'll be out front if you need me." Harry nodded, as she started to walk off. "Oh, wait. Nearly forgot."
Harry's reflexes made catching the shimmering piece of jewellery easy. A small sapphire sat in the head of a raven on the necklace. "What is it?"
"Emergency portkey, from a mutual friend of ours who's not in the Turkey roasting business." Tonks said carefully. "Activation phrase is 'No home of mine'. Got that?" Harry nodded. "I'll be off then, because you didn't see me."
Harry watched the bubblegum pink haired girl leave, running the chain through his fingers. The prick of magic on the chain was unmistakable, but the Raven held nothing. That was a personal touch. He smiled. Three possible destinations then. Bones Manor, Black Manor or Tonks' home. A muted clunk followed by an 'I'm fine.' made him chuckle as turned to stare up at the half-moon.
Pulling the silver spoon out of his pocket, he entered the Occlumancers' Trance, reading the flows of energy that enveloped, enhanced and protected his mind. Settling those down he reached out further, searching for the energies that Remus was so sensitive to...
Two hours later Harry was certain he had a problem. It was there and he could feel it, and his mind could grasp it but his magic had failed him. It just wasn't responding well enough. There was something he could do about that though. Sitting there under Dumbledores fabled wards, Harry turned his perspective and the knowledge of a trainee alchemist inwards.
It was a while before he'd calmed down enough to try and remove the blocks he'd found laced inside his magical core, tracing their corruption as it had grown, becoming a twisted bundle of blockages, structures and monsters in some lovecraftian pattern. He was in for one hell of a summer trying to sort that mess out. Assuming his own magic's instability didn't kill him first.
OoooOoooO
The blond women stalked the night-time ways of Knockturn Alley with a half-smile on her face as her wand spun through her fingers. Hermione Granger was having a good night. Until two men stepped in front of her. She stopped, not even bothering to see if there was a pair behind them.
"We don't like your kind here." Their leader stepped forwards warningly, wand raised. "Knockturn Alley isn't safe at night."
"My kind?" Hermione Granger asked nervously, a little afraid of the act she had to put on. "Are you volunteering yourself as a demonstration of just what type I am?" The man stepped forward. Her fear spiked. "Ardens Sanguine." she whispered softly as her wand traced a small rune.
The man screamed, twitched, clawed at his eyes and blood spit and spattered across the floor with a his. Hermione released him disgust cooling at the bottom of her stomach. But now she had confidence. That was what separated the dark arts from the Dark Arts, the ability to convert one emotion into another. All it cost was a little destruction or pain. She tried to ignore the thrill she got as the others backed off.
"Blood boiling curse." She said as she reached out to full the cowering man's head upwards to meet her eyes. "Makes their eyes go all red, just like the Dark Lord. Now then, I'm off to do some shopping, I hope you're not going to stop me?"
They fell back like a pack of dogs that had been kicked and she strode past them to that small area beyond Knockturn Alley. Where hags, heathens, black cloaks, infernei and more walked side by side in the darkness. This was the true centre of criminal London. She flipped her cloaks hood up and downed a calming draught.
Shopping there was an exercise in frayed nerves, Occlumency and magic sensing, avoiding the cursed books and items that everyone seemed to be peddling, and constantly refreshing the anti-pickpocketing charms. She had unleashed more than one dark spell at thieves that night, but the high never lasted. She only cursed someone for her own amusement once or twice.
OoooOoooO
One last merchant and she'd go home, she swore it. She just had to find the right one. Deep in the corner, there was an anomaly, a few tables loaded high with books. Nervously she walked forwards, wary for wards or anything else that could be keeping the others at a respectable difference. There were some. She thought. A detection ward at least. But nothing dangerous. The stalls owner looked up, stared at her face, frowned and checked the wand in her hand. "You'll want the selection on the left." He said calmly, returning to his book.
Almost nervously she did what he'd suggested. Rituals of the Tantra, Rites of Eros, Calling the Dead. She picked that one up carefully, noting the cold iron bindings and the lack of curses and started looking for more. After she'd found her third book she caught herself. The side-swipe of an eye. A three edged square. Her hand touched smooth leather, breaking the charm as she picked a book up.
"Fifty galleons for the first three. As for the fourth, you break the charm you keep it. Good choice." Smiling she reflexively paid the steep price, still trying to fight the books protection. "Now, you'd best be getting home girl, before the entertainment starts." The page of his book turned. "No one likes Gryffindors here."
"Homecoming." Hermione whispered to herself, being wrenched by the navel through space and time to end up at the entrance to the leaky cauldron. Dropping the books on necromancy into her nearly full bag she dismissed her concealments and rushed towards the toilets. An hour later, after a hearty meal and wallowing in self pity and disgust, she made her way to the Knight Bus.
It took the journey back to beat the charm enough to glance at the books title.
Family Magics, Their Origins and How to Start Them.
By Arnon Edward Mouse.
She sighed at the pseudonym.
OoooOoooO
Greengrass Estate - 27th June
"Father, if you are thinking of entering either of us into marriage contracts to which we do not consent you will find that life for all involved will become extremely painful." Daphne spoke softly before the family meeting had begun. "I am not without my own assets and any contract you would find reasonable I could shatter."
"I... Look, you know I would never do that to either of you." Damien started uneasily, his entire presentation off now. "How did you know I was going to talk about that?"
"I would say feminine intuition, but Malfoy has been shooting his mouth off and making demands again." She handed him the rolled up parchment she'd received the day before. "Did you receive anything 'Stori?" Her younger sister shook her head silently, looking a little sheepish. "Then I'll give it to you afterwards then, you need to know just who your crush is."
"This..." Her father started, his voice becoming as emotionless as his daughters. "This changes things. The way Narcissa was talking they were a kind old family recently impoverished by a bad twist of fate and the imperious curse. I was hoping you'd be amenable. He is in your year and House."
Daphne snorted. "I would rather wed a Hufflepuff girl than any male currently belonging to Slytherin, father. They would not use me as a bargaining trick, and wouldn't enslave themselves to a cruel master. Might as well pick a first-generation as well, you do realise that most ancient houses lines resemble those of badly bred dogs?"
"First-ge... You mean a muggleborn, don't you?" Her father sighed. "You know it was all I could do after your mother died to keep our family afloat and neutral. That would alienate at least eighty percent of the wizengamot." He rubbed his temples, regretting teaching his daughters his skills as a way of getting over their mothers death. Daphne had taken to the strategies and techniques of spies like a fish took to water. "You've picked a side, haven't you? Which one?"
An uncharacteristic smirk lit his daughters face as she gave her sister the letter. "The winning one."
"So I should assume that the anomalies I noted on your last Trust account statement are intentional?" He asked carefully. She nodded as Astoria gasped.
"He... He just expects you to..." She looked up. "That's sickening."
"My thoughts exactly." Daphne said with a smile. "It seems that losing his father hasn't improved the little bastard."
"Daphne!" Her sister gasped.
"What? It's true, Parkinson has complained about it and if my suspicions are correct." She smiled. "The other part will be true as well, there's another descendant of the main Black line."
Her father gasped as he flicked through the family trees. "That will royally alter the balance of power and fuck up a lot of peoples plans if Orion was not the last magical head of the line. If Mister Potter gains control of the family he may well do just that." He gave his daughter a cold glance. "I hope your side appreciates what a gem they've found in you."
She thought of the rare and ancient invisibility cloak she had in her trunk for her to 'borrow' over the holidays. "They do." Astoria placed the letter back on the table with a hurt look in her eyes. "It's okay, 'Stori, there's plenty more boys out there who will do a lot more for you than he ever would." Daphne said as she gave her sister a hug. "Do you want to go outside for a bit?"
Unfortunately for the younger sister, a Gringott's owl was let in through the charmed window and landed on Daphne's shoulder. Taking a look at the thick parchment she pulled it off, unravelled the shrinking charms and broke the seal of the sole letter marked as urgent.
'Ms. Greengrass,
As our primary contact for the Potter Estate, we are bound to inform you that your client has been requested to attend the will reading of Sirius Black as the main beneficiary. We would note that a notice has also been sent to Albus Dumbledore as his legal guardian and that, should he not present himself at Gringotts by 2pm on the 23rd of July his titles and emancipation will be unable to be claimed until his seventeenth birthday. Similar to what happened with his Potter title on his eleventh birthday. As a registered proxy, you are also invited to attend with your client, though this is optional.
We would appreciate it if you passed this message on to your client. Hermione Granger, Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood are also invited should they mysteriously find their post owls blocked.
May your enemies fear your name.
Bloodclaw'
Smiling Daphne pulled a lighter out of her pocket and set the parchment aflame. Her Dad's eyebrows crawled even further into his hairline. "And the games begin." She said softly as her sister frowned. "I'll tell you when it's over 'Stori. Ice cream?"
Damien Greengrass watched his daughters go, staring uneasily at the pile of documents his oldest had placed in her drawer. He'd seen the blood seals on those papers before, and there were far more bundles than necessary for his daughter's sole trust vault.
OoooOoooO
Voldemort winced as his shoulder twinged. It had been almost a week and the wound still hadn't healed. Damn that mudblood. Damn his followers. Damn them all. The Dark Lord seethed. Six names, six untouchable names that he would like to destroy with passion. Hermione bloody Granger was top of the list. Potter had been a threat but the girl had wounded him. Nearly condemned him to more years as a shade. While he was talking! The scum had no sense of decency, none at all.
He could take down the wards about her household, but others would show up too soon. So he'd have to deal with them first. He'd planned on leading the assault personally, blasting through the manor walls and destroying everything in sight, but his injury made it a risk. There was another method, an easier method. One that while not as impressive would still send the correct message.
"Nott." He called for one of his remaining inner circle, planning this out. The Aurors were all keyed to the wards at this location as his target had the habit of taking work home. He could plan based on that and adapt according to what his spies in the department told him.
