Author Name: creamtea-from-FAP
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: PS/SS, CoS, PoA, GoF, OoTP, HBP.
Genre: Book 7. Adventure, thriller.
Main Character(s): H. D. Beta: Anise. Some test-reading by SUM.
Ship(s): Ships are touched on as part of the narrative, but the story isn't about the ships. Ships are: H/L, D/Hr. These ships: H/G, R/Hr, D/G are included – but not in a good way!
Summary: ALT BOOK 7: STORY ALREADY WRITTEN AND BEING PUBLISHED WITH FREQUENT UPDATES. FORTY CHAPTERS. What's it about? Love potions; emotional shoot-outs, expulsions, hex-fights, fist-fights, kidnappings, bank-jobs, secret weapons and castle-battles. And … DRACO!
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Chapter 21
Ron Weasley stood, seething, in the central hall at Gringotts.
He was wearing a very old-fashioned, rather ill-fitting, tweed suit whilst tryingto project the air that he was Very Important Indeed. The suit was from 12 Grimmauld Place, the 'air' was from Draco Malfoy. The 'seething' was from having been duped by Hermione, slagged-off by his sister, and held out on by Harry. So Ron now stood there in an itchy tweed suit that looked like something his granddad would have worn, and with his mouth so downturned, his head so far back and his eyes so hooded that he looked like a cod.
Harry was under Invisibility Cloak, feeling very sheepish about Ron. Under his Cloak he had his bag and a miniature painting of Nigellus. They had tested it: he could use it like a walkie-talkie.It's presence was reassuring, it was comforting – it was fall-back.
Uneasily it reminded him of a stray statement he associated with Ginny Weasley – something Tom Riddle had quoted to him from her diary entries – it's like having a friend in my pocket …
He slammed shut the memory.
He wasn't going to share anything with Ginny Weasley – not sympathy, certainly not empathy.
At least he thought that Ron's suit was slightly in keeping with the surroundings: Gringotts Bank had a vast, marble hall staffed by hundreds of goblin clerks crouching at rows of mahogany counters, weighing with brass scales and scratching away with quills. It kept reminding Harry of something out of Charles Dickens.
The Bank was the safest place in the world for anything you want to keep secure – and now Harry and Ron were about to try and break it. Harry doubted he could have got round security in the vaults at all if it wasn't for the fact that he was 'robbing' his own vault, he still couldn't imagine how Quirrell had managed to rob someone else's.
Posing as Justin Finch-Fletchley, Ron held 'the golden brick' and had used it as leverage to acquire a vault on the high-security level where the Black vault was. When Ron got escorted down there by cart, Harry would ride along invisibly, access the Black vault – he would hopefully be able to get in and get out as he was the owner – then check it for anything likely. Ron had bitterly announced that he would delay his return with any number of stupid questions until Harry was ready to come back with him. 'Because according to Hermione, stupid question are all I'm good for!'
On the way over to the bank, Ron had shifted into bitterness about the brutal exchanges with Ginny, there had been a muttered monologue along the lines of 'stupid cow' … 'Having Malfoy chasing after her, loving every minute of it.'
Harry felt that Ron wasn't really getting it: Ginny Weasley didn't 'love' Malfoy 'chasing after her'. When you got right down to it, she felt as much for Malfoy as Harry felt for her. The same way he'd crushed on his fantasy of Cho for years … Everyone 'in love' with the wrong person …
Ron had gone off on a running explosion directed at Tonks: 'Letting Ginny into the fireplace? What can you expect from someone who attends a funeral wearing bubble-gum pink hair? Ooh, everyone, look at me! Never mind the dead bloke – look at me!'
A goblin called Griphook normally accompanied Harry down into the vaults – Harry had come to secretly suspect that he only did it because Harry was famous, a sort of Groupie-Goblin. This time, of course, 'Harry' wasn't going down into the vaults, Ron was. Well, 'Justin Finch-Fletchley' was. Ron signed the Truth Book as Justin, getting around 'the truth' by saying that he only intended to visit his allocated vault – true, he did, it was Harry who intended to do all the shenanigans. As Ron signed, Harry clocked that one of the day's signatories was one of the Drop Deads and that the fame-seeking-missile known as 'Griphook' was already occupied with escorting him.
Harry flicked the ex-Horcrux ring on his finger nervously; security had gone up about twenty notches since the acknowledged return of Voldemort, and Security Trolls were firmly in attendance in the hall. As 'Justin Finch-Fletchley' finished with the Truth Book, Harry craned his neck to see where the off-duty trolls sat. One was clearly 'reading' a newspaper. It looked like Crabbe or Goyle struggling with a school text-book. Harry recalled that Crabbe had given up on text-books entirely the last school year and had simply devolved to following the pictures in comics.
He peered over the troll's shoulder, it was 'reading' the childrens' funnies page, which had yet another artical on Pygmy Puffs: 'Pygmy Puffs do the cutest things! Have you got a story to tell about your Pygmy Puff?'
He started as Ron gave a loud and, unless you knew that Harry was there, a rather odd-seeming series of coughs. A mousy-haired witch wearing a purple cloak, orange leggings and a hat shaped like a mushroom looked at Ron as though he were slightly peculiar.
Ron was trying to alert Harry to the fact that he was now off to the vaults with a goblin, and that Harry had better keep up!
As they subsequently racketed below the earth, the cart was rather crowded with the invisible Harry on board – not that the goblin knew it as he sat at the front and steered. At the back, Ron appeared to be sitting rather stiffly, somewhat needlessly crouched up. He was in fact making space for Harry who was sitting next to him.
The escorting goblin, called Einar, looked over his shoulder at the oddly-sitting, cramped Ron.
"Know how you feel. I'm a martyr to 'em myself." His voice lowered in sympathy, "Piles – there a terrible thing, aren't they?"
Harry was very glad that the still-annoyed Ron could not see him as he stifled a blurt of laughter.
The top-security vaults were miles under London and accessed by little railway tracks. They soon swept below the level of the London Underground and Harry could clearly hear the rumble of tube-trains.
Prompted by the sound, Harry wondered if those rumours about monsters guarding the vaults were true. He certainly thought he had heard great beasts shifting about down there before now. And the silver inner-doors of the snowy-white Gringotts building were engraved with a warning message which said something about 'finding more than treasure there' if you were to 'seek beneath our floors a treasure that was never yours'.Well, even if there were monsters, at least he didn't have to worry about Death Eaters. The secret of R.A.B.'s identity was known only to he, Ron and now Nigellus – and none of them had told anyone. No-one else would work out the possibility of one of Voldemort's Horcruxes being in the Black vault. Malfoy had the initials R.A.B. from Hermione's list, but Harry doubted that Malfoy could make much sense of them. Harry had only worked it out via a flash of inspiration and access to the Sorting Hat.
Which actually made him wonder what Malfoy was up to right now.
Harry abruptly jolted as the cart screeched to a dead-stop. He been so busy thinking, he hadn't kept track of where they were up to. They had reached Level Seven: the High Security level. Einar the goblin opened the side-door of the cart and got out, holding it open for Ron who got stiffly up from his seat, having to squeeze past Harry. Einar gave Ron a kindly pat on the arm and lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper as he addressed a fellow-sufferer, "I always find that sitting on a packet of Freeze-Charmed Bertie Botts' works best."
Having struck up an unintentional comradeship with his goblin, Ron drew him off slightly. Fortunately, Ron's vault was in the very low 700s, not too far from the Black vault – number 711. Harry crept out of the cart and shuffled off down the rocky corridor toward Sirius's old vault. He could still hear Ron and Einar talking over his shoulder.
"Now, stick close by me, young Master Finch-Fletchley," – over his shoulder, Harry saw Ron start as it took him a second to recall that the goblin was actually addressing him, "There's a steep drop round these parts - we had to install a parapet as a protective measure after that accident with the Head of Health and Safety …"
Harry felt rather nervous, remembering what happened if you tried to access a vault that wasn't yours: you got sucked inside and trapped there for years. He recalled that when a Gringotts' goblin stroked a vault door gently with one finger, the door melted away. Harry was now standing in front of the Black vault. What would happen when he touched it? He was the owner, but would the door open easily? Would some warning go off? Would he get sucked inside, unable to get out? Even if it opened silently and let him in, would the goblin notice that the vault had been opened? Maybe he ought to wait until Einar went into 'Ron's' vault?
Harry was wondering what to do, wondering what would happen, when what happened was that the Black vault door shimmered open and a tall, good-looking, blue-eyed, blond-haired boy strolled out of it holding the Hufflepuff cup in one hand and a wand in the other.
"Uh?" Ron's face screwed up, astounded. "Wait a minute - aren't you one of the Dead Malfoy's?"
"Draco Sodding Malfoy!" Harry shouted. "I'd know that prating smirk of yours anywhere! You've been at the bloody Polyjuice again, haven't you?"
Harry was so angry that he tore his Cloak off – everyone knew he was there anyway, they'd heard his voice. Einar was astounded to see both Harry and 'Malfoy'. For a second everyone just stood there, looking at everyone else: a frozen tableaux of 'subterfuge'.
And then the shooting started.
Malfoy knocked out Einar with a stunning spell. Ron leapt behind the cart whilst shooting at Malfoy. Malfoy ducked and Protego'd before charming his handsome green traveling cloak into a solid shield and hiding behind it. Harry found cover behind a parapet guarding a chasm edge. Spells crashed and flashed between them. Reducto's were hurled in a three-way flurry but none had any effect. Malfoy's cloak had some very effective protective charms woven into it whilst the goblins weren't exactly the sort to take any chances and both the parapet and the cart withstood shock after shock.
"You!" Harry roared, recalling the Hufflepuff cup. "You won't keep anything a secret! You complete git!"
"You can talk, Potter-Prat! You'vebeen keeping the biggest secret of all! You lying sod!"
"Oh -" What the hell was Malfoy on about now? "You've got the cup. You're in business for Voldemort!
I told you about the Horcruxes and the first thing you do is go running to Voldemort so you can tell him! You evil, evil GIT!"
"What?" Ron almost stood up from behind the cart. "You told him? First Nigellus and now this?"
Ron had to duck back under cover as Malfoy shot at him.
"I had to tell him!" yelped Harry, shooting suppressing fire at Malfoy to cover for Ron. "He already knew too much! I had to tell him to try and get him to shut up!"
The 'brick' glinted in Ron's hand; Malfoy took a second to look at it, eyes narrowing. "Nice box, Weasel. Who did you nick it off - some defenceless widow?"
Ron roared and then remembered his family honour. "You've been after my sister, you scrote!" Ron yelled in rage, angry at Hermione, the potioning, the Confundusing, at Harry keeping secrets about Nigellus and now keeping secrets about Malfoy himself. "Well you're wasting your time, Malfoy. She laughed at you fancying her! She told us she knew you fancied her and she laughed!"
Malfoy flung a stunning spell so hard that it blasted a chip off Ron's cart.
"Did your lush of a mum know your sister was in on dosing Potter? Put her up to it, did she?" He threw a particularly vicious hex, "Make her go after Scarhead, so the family could get it's mitts on some money at last?"
Ron roared and then dodged out wide to fling a spell, "Stop kidding yourself, Mouthful." His temper twisted his entire face. "Our Ginny went after Harry because she wanted him, not you!"
Malfoy took a huge, angry breath, "Everyone knows your sister only wanted Potter because you were pushing her into it! Your family's always treated Potter like property! Those twins of yours yelling 'we got Potter, we got Potter' when he got sorted into Gryffindor. You probably threw your sister at him!"
"That is complete crap!" but in his temper Ron almost broke cover from behind the cart.
"Did you tell her to get stuck in the Chamber of Secrets?" Malfoy shouted. "Set her up as the little princess to be saved by the hero? Get her into the dirty habit of playing with boy's snakes?"
The flash of three-way spellfire ricocheted about the passageway.
"Don't listen to him, Ron! He's just trying to wind you up so that you'll break cover and then he can shoot you!"
Harry saw that Malfoy was now struggling with something in the pocket of his cloak and instinctively knew what it was: that manky Hand of Glory and the Darkness Powder. If he got to use those things then he'd have an overwhelming superiority!
Harry knew he had to level the field, if only to distract Malfoy from getting the Hand. Harry called across the rocky corridor, "Hey, Ron! D'you know that Malfoy was at the wedding-reception, Polyjuiced-up as someone else? Talk about dim! Bet he only went to get a gawp at your Ginny!"
"Yeah, sure I did!" Malfoy tried to make it sound ironic, but his voice shook. He turned on Ron. "Yep, I was at the Reception, Weasley. Your mum half-cut, your dad hen-pecked and Granger," he laughed, "Granger, the love potion fiend!"
Ron practically stood up at being reminded of Hermione, and had to duck as Malfoy shot at him.
"Where is Hermione, you ferret-faced git?" he yelled. "If the Death Eaters have got her -"
"Of course they haven't got her. I'd be the first to be invited to the gang-bang if they did!" He sounded disgusted. "If you've lost Granger, blame Potter. He's the one who got her expelled!"
Ron flung a hex so hard, it actually bounced off the wall next to Malfoy.
"Whooo, sharpen up that aim, Spatterface: one day you might be able to hit a barn door! Yep, all the women associated with you Weasels are a rum lot. Not that they aren't up for it!"
Ron crashed a spell at him – this time his furious face appearing momentarily around the side of the cart as he took aim.
"And I snogged the girlfriend of one of those twins of yours. Of course, I say I 'snogged' her but what I really mean was that I sha -"
Ron lurched out slightly wider to hurl another crashing spell, which missed.
"And then of course, there's Granger." Malfoy gave a short laugh. "Has Potter told you that I got my hands in her knickers?"
"He's lying!" Harry screamed, trying to keep Ron suppressed.
"You and Granger?" Malfoy sneered at Ron, determined to provoke. "You couldn't handle her! Every time you had a row, you'd be terrified she was going to dose you! She's got no respect for you – everyone can see that. I saw her at the wedding, she just treats you like an annoying child You couldn'tstand the pace with her, Weasel-gob. You'd end up a nervous wreck!"
Harry cast a horrified look toward the now silent cart. There was a frozen stillness in the vaults. Then Ron exploded out, launched himself full-length through the air, took aim and –
- was blasted into unconsciousness by a perfectly-timed Stupefy from the shielded Malfoy.
Harry hurtled out, roaring and was shot out by an Impedimentia. As hewas blasted to the floor he just had the self-possession to Accio the 'brick' Ron had been holding at the same time as Malfoy yelled 'Accio Potter's wand!'. Even as he got the 'brick', Harry's wand was wrenched from his grip – he hadn't been ready for the attack – so now even as he held the box firmly, Malfoy held his wand.
Harry scowled, bitterly biting back his anger at Malfoy. He took in Malfoy's changed appearance with disgust. "The Dead Malfoys?"
"Why not?" Malfoy fought for breath after the spell-fight and gave a nervy laugh. "Might hold onto the disguise for a while, find a group of teenaged girls and get laid for free."
"Laid for free?" Harry went red. "Think like that about Ginny Weasley, do you?"
Malfoy froze and then scowled in a rage. "I don't fancy her, okay? It's not true!"
Harry knew that 'accusations' concerning Ginny Weasley were Malfoy's weak-spot. If they weren't true, then Malfoy hated the association with a 'blood-traitor'. If they were true, then Malfoy feared the connection with a 'blood-traitor' - and probably hated the ever-present knowledge of his total failure to get anywhere with her when he, Harry, could have had her 'for free'.
Harry laughed.
"I'm telling you to shut it, Potter!" Malfoy's voice was a trembling snarl now and he raised his wand to Harry. "I've had plenty of girls and I don't 'love' Ginny Weasley!"
"No, you don't. How could you – you don't even know her. Anything you felt would come under the heading 'pathetic crush'."
"Shut up, you lying, secret-keeping -" Malfoy flung the best insult he could come up with, "you Sectumsempra-Junky!"
It was Harry's turn to smart. "Stop flinging that at me!""That's our Potter. The only person who could gut someone and still manage to come off as the victim! You lying little git!"
Harry's expression shifted – why did Malfoy keep going on about lying? "What the hell are you yelling on about, you messed-up Daddy's-Boy!"
"You know perfectly well what! - I know!"
"Well whatever it is, it's news to me, so spit it out, Malfoy!"
Malfoy's 'Drop Dead' face twisted, as though he was trying to stop from blurting something. He looked about as though he was fearful that they were being overheard and then roared over his shoulder through the Black vault door, "Get out here, you shifty little sod!" The vault door opened tentatively and Malfoy slid a dismissive look toward it as, from the shadows, a goblin sidled into view.
Harry was stunned – Griphook?
Griphook, the goblin who had escorted the 'Dead Malfoy' down to the vaults and who had once deviously offered to let Harry into the Black vault, appeared from behind the door, looking shifty and evasive. No wonder he hadn't escorted Ron, he'd been too busy knocking-over his own bank with Draco Malfoy!
"Griphook," Malfoy barked over his shoulder, "get up here and introduce yourself properly."
The goblin lurked mutinously.
"Well, come on!" ordered Malfoy.
Griphook shifted waywardly, but did not come that much further out.
"How did you realise you could use him?" asked Harry, astounded.
"Quirrell," snapped Malfoy. "You remember him? One of the first in a line of would-be, Potter-slaughterers? I knew the Gringotts bust had to be an inside job, so I asked around a bit and Wormtail told me: Quirrell had gotten a goblin called Griphook to get him into the vaults. Wormtail's full of useful information like that. All you've got to do is talk to him."
Malfoy looked positively smug at his own cleverness.
"A woman was murdered to create that Horcrux," Harry indicated the cup, "and you're congratulating yourself that you were smart enough to get to it first?"
Malfoy blinked. He hadn't thought of it that way.
"Prepare to die."
"What?" For once, Harry and Malfoy were in unison.
"Prepare to die, Potter." That was Griphook. Astoundingly, the goblin had now whipped out an ancient musket from beneath his frock-coat and had pointed it directly at Harry's heart; he had evidently purloined the weapon when he had stepped back into the Black vault. Griphook steadied his aim on Harry, preparing to shoot. "You're going to die, Potter," he stubbed out, "I'm going to kill you."
There was a silence, then –
"Why?"
"What?"
"Why are you going to kill Potter?" Malfoy persisted. "A Killing Spell would probably bring a ton of security down here. And besides, murder rips your soul and one way or another there may not be much of yours left."
Harry's startled gaze shot between Malfoy and the armed goblin.
Griphook looked uncertain, as though he was newly-nervous of killing but might still do so just to keep on the safe side. He weighed Harry up then came to some decision: a click could be heard as he pulled back the trigger. "He's seen me here. I'll have to kill 'im."
Harry's eyes flicked wide. He almost barked with crazy laughter: to be bumped off not by Voldemort or ranks of Death Eaters but by a grafting goblin on the make?
Harry saw Malfoy's wand hand twitch, but Griphook could fire that musket a lot faster than Malfoy could shoot off a spell.
Instead, Malfoy used his weapon of choice: words.
"Consider: you're quite safe, even without doing anything to Potter," Malfoy indicated the unconscious Ron, "or his ugly, red-headed, hanger-on. What's Potter going to do? - say he knows you were robbing the vault because he saw you break into it before he could? He can't tell anyone because he shouldn't be here himself. Not to mention that he's on the run from the Aurors. He can't tell, I won't tell, and you really shouldn't tell." He leant forward, delivering his next words in a stage whisper. "It'll be our dirty little secret: all three of us together." He straightened and his voice shifted back into its usual delivery. "Besides, now he knows you're open to offers he might decide to barter for your services." He wagged a chiding finger, "Never kill a future customer!"
Harry was astounded – he was defenseless, at gun-point, and the only thing keeping him alive was Draco Malfoy's gift of the gab?
Thankfully, in his own way, Malfoy was a very gifted gabber. He reached out slowly and lowered the goblin's arm. "There's no need to kill the speccy little four-eyes."
"But if I get found out, Gringotts'll 'ave me guts for garters."
"Precisely," continued Malfoy. "All the more reason not to draw attention."
"All the more reason to wipe out all the evidence, you mean." Griphook's tone hardened and he yanked his arm away from Malfoy, his musket aim raising again. "It's getting too hot for me. I'll have to go on the run."
"What?" enquired both boys.
Griphook rolled his eyes, "Things have gotten too hot for me. I will need to destroy all the evidence." He stepped away from Malfoy and altered his aim to include Malfoy himself, "All the evidence, mind you. I'll just have to kill you both, rob yon' Potter's bank vault and do a runner."
Harry looked at Malfoy and Malfoy looked at Harry.
They acted in unison.
Harry kicked Griphook in the head as Malfoy likewise kicked him in the face, rendering the goblin utterly unconscious as he went down. Then Harry and Malfoy's temporary alliance ended as Malfoy quickly stooped and grabbed the goblin's musket before Harry could get it.
"You've got two wands, one weapon, and I've got nothing!" yelped Harry.
"So?" Malfoy sniggered, "Not my problem if you can't keep wood for more than a few minutes."
Malfoy took aim with his wand and hit each goblin with a Confundus so hard that it made their unconscious bodies jolt. When they came-to, they would be very confused indeed: they wouldn't remember a thing. Malfoy leered at Harry, "What they can't remember, won't hurt me." He threw the musket over the parapet.
"And how are you going to get out of here now that Griphook's totally Confunded?" Harry yelped.
"I'll switch to 'Plan B' – I always have a Plan B."
The cup now dangled from Malfoy's belt. Harry couldn't stop staring at it. It was so close … But now Malfoy had a plan to escape? What if he could get away before Harry could make a try for the cup? He yattered on, trying to keep Malfoy there, trying to buy himself time to do something. "How did you even know to look in the bank vault in the first place?"
Malfoy's expression shifted, annoyed, and then he spoke quickly, as though having decided upon an answer. "I saw the initials on Granger's list: Regulus Arcturus Black. He was one of my uncles. I'm even named after him a bit – my middle name's the same as his. His initials are on something of his that mother gave me." Harry noticed that his voice became brittle at his mention of his mother. His voice shook slightly now. "A knife that'll undo locks, and unties knots. I used to help bust us out of The Burrow. Didn't you wonder where I got it?"
The knife …? Harry hadn't wondered, but -
"Nice answer, but it still doesn't explain why exactly you were in the bank vault."
Malfoy's expression slipped and Harry was going to push the point, but then both boys swiveled as sounds could be heard: the shooting match had attracted attention after all, and a great rumbling was now approaching.
Harry and Malfoy shot each other a look. Neither of them could afford to be caught here. Harry also had the problem of the fallen Ron.
Alarmingly, the sound of heavy, monstrous breaths could now be heard.
As much exasperated as fearful, Malfoy shot an alarmed glance toward the sounds of the oncoming vault guardian and then … fled, running down the rank of vaults, away from the on-coming monster, abandoning the wandless Harry, the unconscious Ron, the two helpless goblins and all.
Harry flung the two goblins next to Ron and tossed his Invisibility Cloak over all of them. He hurriedly looked for Ron's wand – maybe it would work for him? But Malfoy was getting away even now and … And he still had that bloody Horcrux!
Unable to find the wand but still grasping the shining box, Harry sprinted after him.
As he raced to catch Malfoy, the dreadful breathing got ever louder. In a few more seconds that thing – whatever it was - would have rounded the corridor and he and Malfoy would be seen! Going flat-out he got within reach of Malfoy who was having to slow down to wrench his Hand out of his cloak in an attempt to hide under cover of Darkness Powder. Harry was hotly determined: no matter what, Malfoy wasn't getting away with that Horcrux! Malfoy had the Darkness Powder out now, but Harry managed to get a hand out to him and -
His foot caught on Malfoy's heel and he tripped, grabbing Malfoy whilst lurching for balance. Malfoy toppled and dropped the box of Powder. Harry's flailing arm grazed a security-vault door and he felt a sucking sensation and a great feeling of being squeezed as he and Malfoy both went straight through the door and into the vault beyond.
Trapped - likely so for ten years.
Furious, a horrified Malfoy wrenched himself away from Harry, glaring wildly about at the darkened vault.
"Potter, you moron! I've got to get away!" His voice rose. "I've got to get this cup to the Dark Lord! I've got to! You utter, utter, TOSSER!"
NOTE: I saw the 'only person who could gut someone and still manage to come off as the victim' quote in an LJ post by Slinkhard.