A/N: This is the longest chapter I've ever written. Yay! And now I'm publishing at midnight and I have to get up at 6:30 tomorrow. Smart. –The grammatical errors resulting from that should be fun…Um, let's see…100 points if you get my "A Very Potter Musical" reference.
"Yes, this is your vault. You have the key," Harry heard echoed over the rim of the well from one of the Goblins.
Harry retreated back up the stairs so that his head poked up and he could see the train. He now understood why so many goblins had come to see Harry's vault. He wondered how long it had been since someone had last opened any of them.
"How many keys are there?" he asked, though he knew the answer.
"The legend says there is one for each of the vaults around the wall. You need all three to get into the fourth vault. We will bring your gold down now into the vault, hmm?" asked one of the goblins.
"No," said Harry quickly and instinctually. Harry hadn't trusted goblins since Griphook betrayed them in the Lestrange vault. –And for some reason, he felt that the goblins would be an intrusion in the Peverell vaults — the vaults of the creators of the Deathly Hallows. Harry made eye contact with Minerva. "Minerva can help me." She nodded.
Harry climbed out of the chamber and made toward the back of the train. The goblins glared bitterly as he passed. Harry grabbed the top of one of the bags of gold and heaved. The bag didn't move and the goblins snickered.
"Only a goblin is strong enough to carry the bags of Gringotts," sneered a goblin.
Harry looked at the goblin. Without breaking eye contact, he quickly focused on his body aura to adjust his strength. He tugged on the bag again and hoisted it over his shoulder with relative ease and marched it to the rim of the antechamber. He turned to look at Minerva. "Don't worry about it. I'll get them. Sorry, it's going to take a few minutes."
Minerva rolled her eyes.
"Are you a wizard or what? Wingardium Leviosa!" she incanted, pointing her wand at the piles of bags. They rose out of the cart, over Harry's head, and sunk into the antechamber.
"Right, um, I'll just, ah…" Harry flicked his wand over his shoulder at the bag and sent it to join the rest at the foot of the stairs. He looked back at Minerva.
"After you," she said quietly. They descended the stairs.
"Muffliato!" Harry said. "Right. Now the goblins can't hear us."
"And I don't think they can see us," said Minerva. "I could only see the room when you were on the stairs."
"What?" asked Harry.
"It was just more water—I didn't see any of this—" she gestured around them, "—until you were on the stair—and then it went away again when you were at the bottom. How did you know it was here?"
"I saw it," said Harry.
"But you've never been here?"
"I should probably explain."
"You lied?"
"No, but I owe you my theories about what's going on," he told her. "Erm, were you raised in a wizarding family?"
She nodded.
"Ah, um, ok," said Harry, stalling for time while he tried to figure out whether or not to tell her about his relation to the three brothers of the Hallows and how to explain the situation if he didn't want to give that away. "Well, so, um…"
"Spit it out, Crockett."
"So, my most valuable possession…is an invisibility cloak that my father left me when he died. I don't really have anything else from them except my good looks—" he grinned, trying to diffuse the moment. Minerva smiled indulgently, but tapped her foot for him to continue. "It's a special cloak. It's supposed to be very old, very valuable, and very powerful. It's part of a set of three magical objects, one of which, I think, opens one of these doors. I don't think I've carried the cloak with me to Gringotts since I came of age…so…The goblins must have set something up to tell them when it's in the building…"
That was false. He had brought the cloak with him the night he robbed Gringotts, but maybe the Goblins had been too preoccupied with their break-in to notice any sort of alert to the presence of one of the Hallows. –And maybe after, the dragon destroyed the track? –But it didn't matter. He was there and needed to figure out what to do.
"So, do you know what's inside?" Minerva asked, hiding her burning curiosity badly.
"Er, no. I have a feeling some of these haven't been opened in centuries, though. The vaults are probably significantly older than the Hogwarts Founders, though they may have been accessed since the death of their original owners…I think at some point Slytherin had the key to that vault." Harry pointed to the great stone door with the glowing circle on it.
Harry pulled out the cloak. "This, should open that vault," said Harry, pointing at the door with the triangle.
"Are you going to open it?"
"Hmm, yes," said Harry, not moving.
"Well, get on with it then, or the goblins will leave and we'll starve to death down here." Harry laughed at her impatience.
"Ok, hold on," said Harry. He strode over to the door with the triangle, Minerva in tow. "Hold on…I suppose…this should work—" He swung the cloak over himself and vanished. The moment he was covered, the door vanished from view and Harry could see into what looked like a high ceilinged, remarkably well lit sitting room. He peered in curiously and stepped over the threshold.
"Are you coming, Minerva?"
"Coming where, Crockett? I suppose I'll come in when you get it open—why isn't it working?"
Harry came back across the threshold and pulled off the cloak. The great stone door was firmly in its place. Harry grinned.
"Put this on."
Minerva looked at him warily and took the cloak in her hands. She swung it over herself self consciously and vanished.
"Ooh!" she exclaimed invisibly.
Harry grinned again and groped the air until he found the fabric of the cloak. He pulled it off Minerva and then swung it over both of them.
"Let's go in, then," he said when they'd both vanished.
They shuffled a little awkwardly over the threshold and into the sitting room in the vault.
"Can we take off the cloak?" asked Minerva.
"Probably," said Harry. He ducked out from under the cloak. "It's fine," he told the space where Minerva was. She reappeared.
Uncovered, they looked around the room. It was, as it had appeared, a sitting room. There were two couches and one great armchair that Harry suspected would be the prize display in a museum. Between the seats was a low wooden table. Around the walls of the room were a clock that clearly predated the invention of pendulum, two great wardrobes, three cabinets, a desk of drawers, a squat trunk, and a wide wooden door.
"Huh."
Frankly, Harry had been expecting piles of gold, though now that he thought about it, that didn't seem likely.
"Whoever it was sure liked their furniture," said Minerva.
Harry snorted. "Um, feel free to make yourself comfortable. I'm going to poke around."
"Funny, Crockett," said Minerva, "I'm coming with you." She followed Harry as he strode over to the desk. There was a worn letter on top. Harry picked it up and walked back to one of the ancient couches and sat down.
"Fancy a look?" Harry asked Minerva. She lowered herself into a seat next to Harry and looked over his shoulder.
"It's your vault, of course, Crockett. I wouldn't pry into your business. It's—"
"You can look, Minerva." Harry carefully slipped the yellowing, creased parchment out of its envelope. It was smooth, but brittle so Harry unfolded it gently so that it did not crumble. There was a message inked onto the page in dark black cursive. The writing was deliberate and embellished by a well practiced hand to the point where Harry could barely read it.
"Descendant,
"Though I know not from whence thou hast come, I hasten to welcome thee to myne—and at this tyme, thine vault. Think not upon your entry as trespass, for tis allowed if thou art mine posterity. This vault hath been created 'tween mine abered brothers in a tyme offe stryfe. Our ways were dyfferent and we found a way to keepe our peace and tryst without the ayd of vylence or spelles. These vaults contayn our separate treasures and possessions offe importance. As thou has dyscovered, the Hallowes of Death are the keys.
"In thine entry, thou has likely notice'ed the fourth gyte inne the roome. It is a porte to our shayred family inheritance. Our dysagreement centred arounde who would inherette it upon our deaths. As a compromyse, we hath decided that it shalt be open to whomsoever comes across all three of our legacys. Thou need'est to master all three Halowes to entyr. Mine brothers have perished and thyr Hallowes hath vanished, so I fyre itte wilt be seal'ed foreveremore upon my deathe.
"In addition to our combyned keepe, we invysted inne these pryvatte vaults. The vault offe mine brothers may be plundred by whomsoever hast robbed thyr Hallowes, but I planne to imparte mine unto my son. Upon me was bestow'ed the Cloake of Invisibily, and inne my Vault I shalt store objects of yse and magyck and sentimentality. Thou, mine descendant, shalt not be able to remove more than thou deservest. Thou shalt not store what is not thine to keep. Thou may'est yse mine artifacts as thine for thine objectyves iffe what thou dost with them is careful and thou bestow'est them with respecte.
"May thou succeed in thine endevoures, childe. And offe mine Cloake: yse it well."
Harry laughed out loud.
"Hǽl from thine deceased aynsestyr,
"-Ignotus Peverell"
"Huh," said Harry again when he'd stopped laughing at "yse it well."
"Hmm," said Minerva.
"Well, I suppose we've got to poke around a little, then," said Harry.
"Really, Crockett, I'd rather go get lunch," said Minerva sarcastically. Harry grinned.
"Alright, pick a cabinet," said Harry.
"What about the door?" asked Minerva.
"Oh right, that too." said Harry.
Minerva stood up and closed her eyes. She spun slowly on the spot like a child playing hide-and-seek, and then pointed randomly. Her finger was stretched out towards the desk.
"Alright, then," said Harry, standing. They strode back over to the desk. Harry put the letter back on top, and put his hand on the brass handle to the top drawer on the left.
"Here goes nothing…"
He pulled and the drawer slid out with unexpected ease. On top was a primitively bound notebook, which Harry lifted out carefully. On the cover was written "Drawings offe Ignotus." The book was better preserved than the letter had been, and significantly less brittle. Harry felt spells on the paper and binding that held it together and protected it. Despite this, it was with the utmost caution that he gently leafed it open. Minerva and Harry both gasped with interest as the pages opened. Upon the leaves were masterful illustrations. The one they'd opened to was of three men. Under each detailed figure was scrawled a name: "Ignotus, Cadmus, Antioch." Harry bent closer and examined their miniature faces. He turned the page to find an illustration of a woman with long dark hair holding a baby. Harry assumed they were Ignotus' wife and child. He turned the page again, and there was an image of a bridge over a rushing river. On the left bank stood three men, and standing in the middle of the bridge was a foreboding cloaked figure.
The image was identical to the one in The Tales of Beedle the Bard.
"Huh," he said.
"Crockett, is that…um…that's familiar," said Minerva.
"Yeah." Harry shut the book and looked back in the drawer.
He pulled out another notebook. On the cover was written "The Tale offe Three Brothers" and "bye Ignotus Peverell." Harry groaned inwardly. There was no way he was going to keep anything from Minerva. Harry opened the cover to find a note on the inside.
"May this storee be tol'ed as a cautionary tayle. I am asham'ed and saddened that my brothers hath thrown away thyr lives thus and wante to prevente thys tragedy in the futyr. I do not wysh to publysh thys mynself, as I respecte thyr memories and pryvacy, bute yea who fynds thys, thou may'est publysh itte ynder thine name and take creddite.
"-Ignotus Peverell"
Harry flipped the page and recognized the beginning of the classic story The Tale of Three Brothers that had so puzzled Hermione in their journey to destroy Voldemort's horcruxes.
A loose piece of parchment fell out of the book as Harry flipped a page. Minerva, who'd been reading over Harry's shoulder the whole time, stooped, picked up the piece of parchment, and held it out to Harry who made to read it. He didn't read it, however, because it was in Ancient Runes. He frowned.
"Do you read runes?" he asked Minerva. She took the paper and began translating aloud with fluency he wouldn't have expected out of Hermione.
"'I, Beedle, descendant of Ignotus, have published The Tale of Three Brothers in my collection of fairy tales. Despite the forward from Ignotus—' wow, Beedle's handwriting was bad '—I feel obligated to state my dire wishes that this isn't looked upon as plagiarism. I hope that all who read my tales may take away how to coexist with their fellow wizards and find prosperity and happiness. –Beedle,'" she read.
"That explains a lot," said Harry.
"It explains a lot in the same way that 'my hair is purple because the people on the moon didn't have any other colors' explains a lot," said Minerva. "Harry, I feel like I don't know you at all anymore."
"Minerva, please," Harry begged. "For a huge part of my life I was judged only on what people knew about my parents and stuff that happened to me when I was a baby. –I don't want that. I want people to see me for what I do, how I act, rather than what vault key I didn't know I had. Please."
"Harry, finding this could change your whole life. –And I don't understand the difference between finding this vault and knowing you're related to Beedle the Bard and—"
"Ok, through some, er, adventures I had as a teenager, I found out I was related to this guy Ignotus. My parents weren't alive to tell me—if they knew at all. I learned about these…Hallows, and that my cloak was one of them, and I decided I didn't need my life to be any more interesting! I don't want to be famous. I don't want people to know what this is!" he waved the cloak around.
Minerva pursed her lips. "I don't know whether that's selfish or commendable."
"I assure you it's commendable," grinned Harry, breaking the tension in the moment. Minerva failed to pretend she wasn't smiling.
"Oh, wait until Albus finds out about this…he loves old magical legends."
Harry looked stricken. "Minerva. You can't tell him. Please. You can't tell anyone—least of all, Albus." Albus couldn't find out. He'd understand everything. Harry knew that Albus had spent years of his life looking for the Stone to assuage his guilt about his sister…and Harry knew where the stone was. He didn't want to know what Albus would do…didn't want to face that…Didn't want to create that painful and inevitably disappointing choice for Albus…
Minerva widened her eyes, incredulous.
"Well, why did you let me come in?"
"I wasn't going to leave you all alone with those goblins, was I?"
"I can take care of myself!"
"Well, I—"
"I bet you didn't want to come in here alone, you were—"
"You think I was scared of a vault, Minerva?"
"Well, maybe you wanted to show off after all—"
"Or maybe….not."
"Alright, I won't tell anyone. –Just…please don't obliviate me or anything."
Harry looked exaggeratedly offended, though, frankly, the idea of wiping her memory didn't sound horrible. It was better than the idea of Albus—or everyone in the wizarding world— finding out about the Peverell vaults and that Harry knew the location of all three Hallows. But Harry decided to trust Minerva's word.
"I won't. Just…please don't tell anyone about this. When we're done poking around, I'm, um, going to stick my gold in a corner somewhere and try not to disturb too much. Ok, um…next drawer?"
Minerva nodded enthusiastically. Harry put the two notebooks back into the first drawer, closed it, and pulled the second one open. Inside was a stack of published copies of "The Tales of Beedle the Bard." Harry nodded and shut the drawer, and moved to the top one on the right. It was full of what looked like letters, as was the drawer beneath it. Each of the envelopes had a name and a year on the front. After glancing at a few, Harry deduced that each of the letters had been written by an heir of the vault. Harry pulled one out at random and looked at the name.
"Godric Gryffindor," Minerva read.
"Um, wow," said Harry.
"Harry…you're a descendant of him, too?" she almost moaned.
"Well, I suppose a lot of people are," excused Harry lamely. "I was born in Godric's Hollow."
Harry slipped the letter out of its sheath, unfolded it, and began to read aloud.
"'I, Godric Gryffindor, have made the following changes to the contents of this vault.'" He showed the letter to Minerva who read with increasing interest.
There were two columns. Under "Withdraws" were "100 galleons," "Swordsmanship of the Early Days (to be returned upon my death)," and "Magic and the Castles of Scotland (returned after the adaptation of the Hogwarts castle).
Under "Deposits," were, "Suit of Armor (delivered upon my death)," "Ruby Encrusted Sword (though I have enchanted our House Sorting Hat to present the sword in times of need to those in my house at Hogwarts)," "1000 galleons," "Portrait of Godric Gryffindor," "Scarf of Sexual Preference," "A Headmaster's Guide to Hogwarts," "The Mirror of Erised," (Harry coughed) "Armor of my familiar Lion, Rumbleroar," and "One Way Vanishing Cabinet to the Gryffindor Head of House Quarters." Harry stopped reading and smirked at Minerva.
"I could get into your bedroom any time I wanted," snickered Harry.
"That'll be so convenient for when you, the Scarf of Sexual Preference, and I stay up late talking about how much you're into Albus," she said, smirking. "Look and see if there's a one way vanishing cabinet to the headmaster suite." Harry looked a little like he'd been punched in the stomach. He hid it quickly.
"I'll lend it to you if there is one," he rebutted. It was Minerva's turn to look stunned. They both looked back at the page and read the next line.
They both burst out laughing because it read "one way Vanishing Cabinet to Headmaster's Suite."
Harry folded up the page and put it back into the envelope.
"Well, I think I should go through all of those, but in the meantime, why don't we look around a little more," said Harry.
"Alright," said Minerva, still chuckling a little.
"So, those big wardrobes are probably the vanishing cabinets," said Harry. "Shall we check the door?" he asked, gesturing to the wide wooden door on the wall. Minerva nodded.
Harry strode over to the door and yanked it open. "After you," he gestured. Minerva strode through it and Harry heard her gasp. He followed her inside and re-uttered her gasp as he looked around. If he'd thought the sitting room was high ceilinged, it was nothing compared with this room. Lining the walls were shelves at least sixty feet tall filled mostly with books. Though many libraries feel claustrophobic and stuffy, the high ceilings, and slick, empty marble floor, gave the room an airy, open feel.
"Bloody hell," breathed Harry. Minerva was already moving towards a section of shelf.
"This has a label on it—this section was put here by Beedle. And over here—" she was moving over, "—this section—this was from, wow! I know this name…he must have been a headmaster at Hogwarts. And here's a whole section on potions here…and over here there's…-it looks like Gryffindor wasn't exactly booky compared to some of your, er, ancestors."
Minerva kept chattering, but Harry had moved to the other side of the great room. There was a section of the wall that was not occupied with books. Instead, there was a row of artifacts that unobtrusively lined the edge of the room. There was a proud, gemmed suit of armor that matched the sword of Gryffindor. Its posture was expressive, like it was still supported by the famous man who'd once worn it. Its gloved hand rested on something else: the armored outline of a giant lion under the affectionate hand of Godric's suit. The leather behind its mane was engraved Rumbleroar.
Light reflected into Harry's eye and he looked around for the source. His eyes rested on a familiar silhouette just off the wall. Harry sealed himself, and walked over to it.
The Mirror of Erised looked the same as Harry remembered, except that perhaps it felt a little smaller since he had grown about a foot since he'd seen it last. Harry pressed his lips together and slid himself directly in front of the mirror.
The image itself was simple, but it said much more than it would have had it been a photograph or even real life.
The image was of Harry, his green eyes shining behind his glinting glasses. Next to him, linked by an interlaced hand, was Albus Dumbledore. Albus winked a blue eye at the onlooking Harry, and turned to look at the Harry in the mirror. Harry's reflection turned to meet Albus's glance and they smiled as if they were reflections of each other. Harry sighed and tore his glance away. For good measure, he conjured a length of red fabric floating in the air and draped it over the mirror.
Harry heard a tiny pop to his right and he looked around. Had it come from the shelf? He walked over to the shelf that was not covered in books and poked around.
He heard the pop again, closer. Harry magically increased his hearing. He looked back at the shelf and found a label. "To Be Gifts," it said. Harry finally located the source of the pop on its third iteration. It came from above him—from a watch that Harry couldn't quite see—he stood on his toes, reached out and grabbed it, nearly toppling over in his effort to reach. Once he regained his balance, he looked at the watch.
"Huh," he said for the millionth time that day. "Gifts, hmm? Alright." He looked back down at the watch. Twelve hands were spread around its face, pointing at the various planets around the edge. "Huh," said Harry, and suddenly he understood what the face meant, though he couldn't have explained it to anyone. "Oh!" he said, glancing at it with new understanding. "Minerva! We'll miss dinner!"
"Oh, bother," he heard from across the room. "Crockett, if we leave now, are you going to ever bring me back here?"
"I will, I will. You think I'm going to sort through all this on my own? And I'm not going to tell anyone else. That leaves you. Come on, let's go."
They hurried back into the sitting room and Harry threw the cloak over them. They shuffled quickly back into the dark, circular antechamber where Harry's gold still sat and dashed up the stairs and—and the train and the goblins were gone.
"Oy!" exclaimed Harry. He sunk back down the stairs to Minerva. "Er, they left."
Minerva snorted. "Lovely. Treacherous buggers."
"So, um, should we swim or do you think we can levitate each other or…"
Minerva giggled.
"What? You aren't intimidated by the fact that we're stuck in the bottom of the Gringotts lake with no train?" asked Harry, exasperated.
"Crockett, the cabinets."
"I'd love to keep looking through this stuff, but, as you said, we may starve to death down here! And someone might miss us if we do that," said Harry with increasingly frantic sarcasm. He knew he could probably get out himself, but he'd have to mess with Gringott's magic and he really didn't want to do that.
"Crockett, you…" Minerva was either so frustrated or amused that she was having trouble finding words. "The vanishing cabinets, Crockett."
"I—Oh. Right." Harry coughed. He put the invisibility cloak back on them before Minerva could take the Mickey any more. He levitated the bags of gold with his wand, and walked with Minerva back into the sitting room. He lowered the bags back to the ground while Minerva pulled off the cloak.
There was a clunk from the side of the room. Harry and Minerva looked around, startled.
The lid to the large, squat trunk had flown open of its own accord. The clunk had been the result of the lid hitting the wall behind it. Harry edged towards it and peered over the side. Inside, the walls were significantly farther apart than those of the trunk. In fact, it could have been a whole room, but Harry couldn't tell the depth because a few feet below the top of the trunk was a floor of golden galleons.
Harry snorted. Ignotus may have been noble and humble and all that, but he and his descendants had certainly amassed a fortune. Harry levitated all but one of the bags from behind him and magically instructed them to pour themselves out into the trunk. He took the last bag, shrunk it, lightened it, and put it into the auror bag that he kept with him always. He shut the lid of the trunk.
"What was in there?"
"Um, gold," said Harry.
"I bet," muttered Minerva.
Harry chuckled. "Like I said, you can pick the restaurant…We can go tomorrow, if you want. It's a bit late for lunch now. Or dinner."
"I am feeling rather famished," admitted Minerva. "What time is it?"
Harry looked at the planet watch he'd pulled from the shelf. "Eight. Let's get going. We might catch the end of dinner in the castle if we hurry."
They looked around the sitting room. The two wardrobes—or vanishing cabinets, as they were, stood next to each other.
"Which one should we use?" asked Harry.
"We should use this one," said Minerva, pointing to the one on the right.
"Is there one that looks like a wardrobe in your room?"
"Yep," said Minerva. "And I know which one it is. Let's use this one," she said, pointing to the one on the right again.
"Ok," said Harry. He opened the door and held it open for her. It was open. She stepped inside, and Harry followed her in. "I hope this works…"
There was a wooshing noise, and suddenly Harry felt fabric, mainly silk, hanging all around his shoulders and face.
"Minerva! What's all this silk? Your clothing? Why is—"
"Shh!" came Minerva's voice. Harry made to open the door, but Minerva stopped him. With Harry's enhanced hearing he heard her stifle a giggle. Then he heard something else.
A man laughing.
"Albus, I have blood all over my trousers. What will my wife say?"
Harry heard Albus musical laugh join the other man. "I've no idea what she'll say, but I think even she'd be impressed if she found out we'd figured out how to do it twelve different ways."
Harry couldn't breathe. Being trapped in the closet was suddenly too much for him, and he burst through the cabinet door and into the room beyond. Before him stood Albus and a man wearing a crimson cape whom Harry didn't recognize. Both of them were splattered with blood, and their wands were drawn in shock.
"Stupif—"
"No, wait!" cried Albus, jumping on the unfamiliar man's wand hand before the spell could fly towards Harry. The spell hit the floor instead, singing the rug.
"Albus? What is the meaning of this? Who is this man? Has he been in your wardrobe the whole—Minerva?"
Minerva had emerged from the wardrobe, her glasses a little askew. She smiled cheerfully. "Hello, Nicholas."
A/N: If you haven't seen A Very Potter Musical, please do. It's on youtube.
