FF2 Chapter 29
/Telepathy/
[[Parseltongue]]
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October 13/14 1992 Gringotts
When Ragnok ordered, goblins answered. Within minutes of his command for any goblin with training in dealing with the Black Arts to start checking the Death Eater vaults, the vault tunnels under and around Gringotts were seeing more activity than since they'd been excavated.
Each team that responded was comprised of members of one Clan, never two or more Clans mixed together. There was a reason for this.
Wizards knew that goblins had ... 'nonhuman' ... ideas about ownership. To whit, that anything one of their kind made was considered to be being rented by whoever purchased the item. Further, on the death of the purchaser, the item was to be returned to the maker or the maker's family, with a rare few exceptions where items had been willingly entailed to another family by the maker. Usually as a way to thank the recipient for deeds done either in the name of goblinkind (in the case of wizards) or the maker and/or a Clan member of the maker (in the case of fellow goblins and wizards).
What wizards didn't know, because most of them had not thought to ask - and the few who had thought to ask either weren't told or were sworn to silence - was that this attitude extended to every part of goblin life, not just items they made. Knowledge, skills, and even the lives of their descendants were considered, ultimately, the property of the eldest male and female pair of the Clan, with all others 'renting' those skills and knowledge - and indeed their very lives - from that pair. That pair, in turn, were ultimately renting their own lives, knowledge and skills from the Goblin King who, according to their beliefs, was a direct descendant of the first goblin, from whom all that they were had come.
As a result, no Goblin would even consider the idea of training to do something other than what their family did at the command of their Clan. A job which had been decreed for their family from the moment it had been established within the Clan. Every Clan was basically self-sufficient unto itself. Each clan had families who built buildings, tunneled, mined, created weapons, jewelry, and other items, farmed and tended livestock et cetera. This made it literally impossible to cripple the entire Goblin race, which had come in handy when they'd been more focused on war than on monetary conquest. A single Clan could be wiped out, but not the race as a whole.
Because of all this, rebels were insanely rare and generally driven out of goblin society for their heresy, if they weren't killed outright. The vast majority of the goblins that got driven out didn't survive long on their own. This was the reason, aside from wizard bigotry, that only one wizard family had goblin blood in their veins. Most other magical sapient beings had far more representation among wizardkind, if not in the UK proper, where mixed blood of that sort was all but unheard of, then somewhere in the world.
Gone was the stealth and care that had been being used to check the various vaults of known Death Eaters. And in this search, *all* vaults were searched. Even those listed under a name not the Death Eater's own. Because each Clan was an entity unto itself, only one Clan dealt with each Wizarding family. For the most part, Wizards were unaware of this. Because wizards were so ignorant of virtually everything to do with goblins, the purebloods who established private vaults under fictitious names (goblins didn't care what you called yourself as long as you were depositing gold and/or precious metals or gems) never realized that such vaults were put under the aegis of the Clan that dealt with their family.
Zartank and Griphook were of the same Clan, but from different families within the Clan. In the same wise, Blackroot and Crusher were from different families of the Clan that dealt with the LeStranges. Their Clan was one of the smaller and less influential Clans, as the LeStranges were a small and not all that influential Wizarding family. This was due to them having emigrated from the continent within the last couple hundred years, and the fact that there were now only two LeStranges by blood still living. Both of whom were in Azkaban for life. Worse, neither had any heirs. When the LeStranges died out, the Clan that had worked with them would be assigned to one of the muggleborn families establishing themselves in the Wizarding UK world.
It should surprise no one to discover that the Clan eagerly looked forward to the end of the LeStranges. While the LeStranges moldered in Azkaban, their vaults earned no gold. Unlike Sirius, they had been properly tried and convicted, which had resulted in the freezing of their accounts. Even now, with them having escaped, the accounts were still frozen. The LeStranges could show up in Gringotts if they were crazy enough - a distinct possibility with one of them - but the Goblins were required by the terms of their treaty with the Ministry to inform the Aurors instantly of their arrival. Showing up, though, would do them no good, as the LeStrange vaults had been re-keyed upon the LeStranges' conviction and incarceration, to prevent any possibility of them getting in the vaults and getting money they were no longer entitled to.
So Blackroot and Crusher had been very, very thorough in their search of the LeStrange vaults. Which had paid off. They'd found two Black Arts items in the main vault, which meant their Clan would be reassigned within a day. It would take about that long for the decision of which Clan got which Muggleborn family to be made, since Blackroot and Crusher were willing to bet theirs wasn't going to be the only Clan reassigned after the searches were complete.
Though to be completely fair, Blackroot and Crusher were of the opinion that the existing LeStranges hadn't known about the two Black Arts items they'd found. Both had been more than half-hidden in a far corner of the main LeStrange vault and covered in a thick layer of dust that indicated they hadn't been touched in a long time. Still, their Vault, their problem, even if they did inherit it from an ancestor.
They'd checked all of the vaults in the upper levels by midnight. They only have one more vault to check - the one that had been set up for Bellatrix LeStrange nee Black upon her marriage to Rodolphus.
And that's where they hit the ultimate paydirt. They'd all been told to confiscate all Black Arts items, but they'd also been told to keep an eye out for a very particular sort of Black Arts item. That there definitely was one in a vault somewhere, and finding it would be key to relieving their world of the current idiot with delusions of grandeur, and whichever Clan found the thing would be richly rewarded.
Their Clan's future was looking up. The second they'd opened the vault, they'd been assaulted by the aura of the damn thing. Blackroot had recognized it instantly from his training. Better still, Crusher, who was the one who took the LeStranges to and from their vaults, had a pretty good idea of when the thing had been brought down here, as he revealed while Blackroot went to work containing the thing and cleansing the vault of the taint it had left behind.
"The last time she visited this vault was back in '79. I'd have to look at my records for the exact date, but I remember that much. She'd only visited it a couple times before that, so I didn't think much of it when she didn't visit it again before they got thrown into Azkaban." Crusher told Blackroot.
"She'dve masked it somehow to bring it in. Her birth Clan would have known how to, if any did." Blackroot agreed. "And not wanted to risk us noticing something after that, so stopped coming here entirely. Which is probably why it was hid here in the first place, given she didn't come here much before that."
"Right. Let's get this to Ragnok and get it destroyed." Blackroot said. "Then celebrate our imminent reassignment to another wizard clan."
That got an amused, agreeing noise out of Crusher, and the two headed out of the tunnels.
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October 17, 1992 Romania
Charlie had gotten so excited by the events of the thirteenth that he'd actually endured a floo call rather than write a letter to Sirius and co. Given that long-distance flooing of any variety was pretty close to the definition of hell on earth (long distance portkeys claimed the honor of being called hell on earth), this was saying something.
The end result of the call had been Sirius arranging for Harry to spend the upcoming weekend in Romania. Given the bomb he'd laid on Ragnok's lap earlier in the day, Sirius didn't feel right leaving the country until the horcrux situation was dealt with, so Remus would be getting to go to Romania with Harry.
When the horcrux got found so fast, Sirius didn't change the plans. Honestly, he wasn't sure he could deal with another of the near-heart attacks that Harry dealing with the General had given him. Let Remus have that fun this time. Besides, it'd be the perfect time to deal with the horcrux at Malfoy Manor. So it was that Hedwig, Harry, and Remus arrived just after dawn on Saturday.
"So ... I'm still not clear on the plan of how we find the General." Harry said once he'd caught his breath and gotten his legs back under him after they'd landed.
"Not a lot of places for a dragon that size to hide, even if they were the sort to hide." Remus said. "We'll probably spot him in short order."
"Yeah." Except the response didn't come from Harry, but a grinning Charlie as he left the building beside them and headed towards them. "The General's gonna be really, really easy to find. He's been staying more or less in plain sight since the other day. Everyone's going nuts with theories as to why."
"I can imagine." Remus said, sounding amused. "Then again, from everything you've been telling us over the last year, that's pretty much become the new normal."
Charlie laughed. "Pretty much." He agreed. "So anyway, the General has set up camp to the north - just outside the reserve proper. It's almost like he knows where the boundaries are."
"Do you have any wards up along the border?" Remus asked.
"Yeah, a couple. One to keep muggles from seeing the dragons if they wander into the area, and a few others." Charlie said, then blinked. "You think he can sense the wards somehow?"
"Wouldn't surprise me at this point." Remus admitted. "It's pretty clear at this point that about three fourths of what we thought we knew about dragons was wrong."
"Very true. All right, you two want to head out right away, or get something to eat first?"
"Probably should head out right away." Harry said. "Who knows how long it's going to take to talk to Hasisah. We don't quite speak the same dialect, so it takes a bit to understand each other."
"And things get lost in translation, requiring you to backtrack and get clarification." Charlie said with a nod. "Right, so, to the General we go. We scouted - very, very carefully, let me tell you - a spot we could apparate to close enough to where the General's hanging out to not have to walk all day to get to him."
Charlie side-alonged each of them, taking Remus first. "Right. General hangs out on an outcropping about an hour's walk ... " He pointed up. "That way, and a bit around a corner."
They hiked the last distance to where Hasisah was evidently camped out. The moment they came around the curve, Hasisah was rather hard to miss. He was lying on a barren outcrop of rock, stretched to full length in the autumn sun, his wings half-open and eyes half-closed. Harry couldn't help but snicker because Hasisah rather strongly resembled a sunbathing cat. Complete, somehow, with smug, sleepy expression, despite the fact dragon faces couldn't really do expressions. Or maybe Harry was just projecting. He'd seen Crookshanks sunbathing enough to know what sort of expression cats got.
Sleepy Hasisah might have been, but he still spotted them pretty much the instant they came around the curve, despite still being a good fifteen minute walk from the outcrop. Evidently draconic eyesight - or at least Hasisah's version thereof - was pretty dang good, because not only were they spotted, but Hasisah sat up, tail curving around where his wing joints braced his front end off the ground. Harry snickered again because the cat impression just wasn't fading. Just before they got to the outcropping, Hasisah sprawled back out on the ground, wings tucked against his sides. Since this put his head at ground level - and as close to eye level with a human as Hasisah was capable of getting - Harry had a feeling the move was deliberate.
[[Speaker]] Hasisah greeted the moment they got within easy speaking range. Harry was willing to swear he sounded *eager*, too.
[[Hasisah.]] Harry returned the greeting.
[[I ... you came.]] Hasisah said. [[Wanted to talk ... you.]]
Harry missed a word or two of both sentences, but from the tone, he guessed it was 'am glad' and 'to you' or something along those lines.
[[So you did get the other dragons upset on purpose!]] Harry said.
Hasisah, again, somehow managed to look incredibly smug without being able to make facial expressions. [[Yes]]
Harry laughed. [[Well, it worked. What did you want?]]
[[Talk to Speaker. Speaker say fight west on island. Speaker say treat dragons different ... ]]
At first, Harry thought Hasisah was just being pedantic, with the 'talk to speaker' bit. The more he said, though, Harry realized that wasn't it at all. Hasisah was, evidently, trying to understand what the heck was going on, and the admittedly very brief explanation he'd been given last time Harry'd been here had evidently just confused Hasisah.
"Better sit down, you two. This is going to take a while." Harry advised Remus and Charlie, then obeyed his own advice, settling on the ground.
[[Long story. Will try to tell]] Harry said, trying to keep it simple to minimize translation issues.
He spent the next few hours trying to explain ... well, most of the situation in the UK at the moment. Including *where* exactly the UK was. Fortunately, with a bit of creativity on Harry's part, things translated over to things Hasisah could understand fairly easily. That said, he still wasn't sure that Hasisah was clear on where the UK was. In both of their defense, translating distances and figuring out markers that were easily recognized from the air with a being that measured distances in time (as measured by the movement of the sun) flown at 'slow' and 'fast' speeds and who had vision that differed from a human's was *not* easy.
Harry had a feeling they'd have to resort to escorting Hasisah there if Hasisah insisted on visiting, to make sure he got there. And that brought up all sorts of fun issues because finding a dragon that would be willing to fly escort with Hasisah would be a hell of a trick. Harry did *not* want to contemplate flying the distance involved on a broomstick, even if there was such a thing as one that could keep pace with a dragon Hasisah's size. Flying carpets, even if they were legal in the UK, would be utterly useless as they were uniformly slower than all but the most basic of brooms.
All that said, Harry (and Remus and Charlie) had gotten a *really* good laugh at Hasisah's opinion as to what ought to be done to Voldemort. Hasisah was bloodthirsty and surprisingly vindictive. And even offered to roast Voldemort for Harry, if Harry wanted.
Harry got a little curious as to why Hasisah was so ... willing, and nasty, and finally asked, as nicely as he could manage.
[[He Old. Sick. You young, strong. Is way of things, young replace old.]] Hasisah explained.
Which, Harry decided, explained a great deal about an Ironbelly's outlook on life as compared to even a Horntail, which, while aggressive, still worked cooperatively with its own kind more often than not. And segued the conversation into the dragon end of things quite nicely.
Halfway through a somewhat more detailed explanation (than the last time, anyway) of the whole 'being nice to dragons' explanation, Hasisah dropped a bit of a bomb. Harry'd been explaining how the reserve staff helped safeguard the female dragons' clutches, thus ensuring more of the babies made it to adulthood, when Hasisah asked a question.
[[Would protect my clutch?]]
Harry blinked, because for once he didn't think a word or two got dropped or confused in translation. And if that was so, it meant that Hasisah might actually be ... female. It took Harry a minute or two to figure out how to confirm that. And yup. Hasisah was a girl. It didn't really change much of anything, of course, but then again, it just might.
[[They would.]] He confirmed. He was pretty sure the dragon handlers would expire from glee at the chance to raise Ironbellies. By now, he'd gotten chapter and verse on how no one had ever managed to get hold of Ironbelly eggs. Not that Harry had blamed them. You had to be completely insane to risk the wrath of a nesting dragon of any breed, nevermind a sixty foot behemoth. And unlike with the other dragon species, while the occasional young Ironbelly had been caught, they had not *stayed* caught for long. They'd eventually escaped by one means or another. They were just too big and strong to keep contained against their wills, even when only half grown.
That it would be a chance to boost Ironbelly numbers would be a not inconsiderable bonus. Ironbellies were the rarest of all dragons, and given the differences in how Hasisah worked and how other dragons did, Harry had a feeling those differences, rather than active human interference, was the root cause of their rarity.
[[No clutch now.]] Hasisah said. [[Maybe next season. If males good enough.]]
Which had made Harry laugh. [[Only the best for you.]] He said. It got him another of those impossible smug looks.
[[Am best. No challenge in long time. Others too little, weak.]]
Challenge? Harry thought, and that started another chat about stuff, this time about Ironbellies in particular. Harry learned a *lot* in the next hour or so. Most of which Charlie didn't know, and which he said that dragon handlers in general didn't know. Some of it was suspected, thanks to centuries of observation from a *long* way off, but suspecting something was different than knowing it for sure.
It also explained why Hasisah was interested in her clutch being protected. He knew from Charlie that Hasisah was old. It was entirely possible that her next clutch would be her last, not because she was about to die of old age but because a young, strong female could challenge her for her territory and win at any time. With no territory, there'd be no more clutches. Hasisah wouldn't have the option of hanging out at one of the dragon reserves scattered around the world, because they were all in an Ironbelly's territory, and they would not tolerate Hasisah's presence.
By the time they'd done talking, the sun was setting. Harry got to his feet.
[[I will come back to talk more when I can]] He promised. [[Not until shortest day, at least]] He told her, identifying a specific time the best way he knew how. The shortest day of the year was close enough to Christmas break, which was the earliest he'd be able to get back for longer than half a day.
Hasisah didn't reply, but she also made no move to object to them leaving. Once they were back around the curve and out of her immediate line of sight, Harry heaved an enormous sigh.
"That ... was awesome and taxing at the same time." He said. "Talking to her is *hard*."
"You did a bang up job, Harry." Charlie said. "Just knowing she's a she is a breakthrough. I mean, we knew some of the big bastards that fly around had to be girls and some had to be boys, but we didn't know which were which since no one was insane enough to try getting close to sex one. Now all we have to do is correlate scar patterns and where each Ironbelly is seen, and we'll be able to ferret out the females, now that we know how their territories work." Then he grinned. "If she keeps her word and lets us have her next clutch, the gang are going to go into even bigger spasms than they have over getting to ride dragons at all."
Harry laughed. "Yeah, I kind of figured that one out."
"We're going to need to take precautions, though." Charlie said. "If they're that violently territorial, the dragonets will probably have to be separated pretty early to keep them from hurting each other. And keeping them under the radar of the resident adult Ironbellies, wherever they end up being placed, is going to be a hell of a trick."
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October 17, 1992 Malfoy Manor
Deciding how to deal with the horcux at Malfoy Manor hadn't been easy for Sirius. In the end, he'd opted to work with Lucius, but swear the man to secrecy on his life and magic. Sirius wasn't happy about spreading the word about the horcruxes but he was savvy enough to know that Lucius wouldn't take them into his home without knowing why - and lying was just a bad idea all over. While having Bill break the wards was a possibility, Sirius hadn't been willing to risk Bill on wards of unknown but very probably nasty origins and subtlety.
All that in mind, he stopped off at Grimmauld Place, where the Malfoys had been staying.
"Hello, cousin. To what do we owe the pleasure?" Narcissa asked.
It was a measure of how much things had changed between them that she wasn't referring to him as 'Lord Black', but owning up to the fact they were cousins. And that her greeting didn't have even a hint of sneer or ill humor in it.
"I've come to borrow your husband for a few hours." Sirius admitted, then glanced around. "He in the library?"
"Yes. Kreacher!" Narcissa called. Kreacher popped in. "Would you let Lucius know he has a visitor downstairs? And then bring some tea?"
"Yes Mistress." Kreacher croaked, then popped out.
"How's he been doing?" Sirius asked.
"Much better since you had the Goblins take a look at him." Narcissa said. "Did they tell you what was ailing him?"
"Yeah. Fortunately, they fixed it, and it's not a common malady." Sirius said. Which was the gospel truth, even if it wasn't the whole truth.
A tea set popped into existence on a nearby table just moments ahead of Lucius' arrival.
"Sirius. All is well, I hope?" Lucius asked.
"Draco's doing well." Sirius said. He didn't want them to fret that this had to do with their son. Not after what Draco had already had to live through. "And everything else is as well as it can be given the circumstances."
They chatted about inconsequential things while tea was consumed. Only when the last teacup was set aside did Sirius get to the reason he was here.
"I have recently come into some information, that due to circumstances I will be forced to divulge to the two of you. This information is of the utmost importance, and cannot risk being disseminated. Because of that, and because if you ever fall into the hands of Voldemort, he'd take great pleasure in ripping everything out of your minds he possibly could, I am going to ask that you vow on your lives and magic to never speak of this information with anyone but myself or those I give you leave to discuss it with."
Lucius and Narcissa glanced at each other. There was no other outward sign, but Sirius knew that they were somehow communicating with each other. After a few moments, Lucius turned back to him and nodded. "Very well, we will take the vow."
It didn't take long to get that done. Once it was, Sirius took a deep breath.
"We discovered completely by accident how Voldemort managed to stay alive in '81. Minerva wanted to ensure the safety of the children, and since we've no idea what all Dumbledore might have done to the school, she had it searched top to bottom for anything malicious. Imagine her surprise when the search turned up a number of Dark Arts items ... and a Black Arts item."
Narcissa made an amused noise. "I'm surprised we didn't hear her cursing Dumbledore out from here." She said.
Sirius laughed. "The only reason she didn't is because we've no proof that any but the Black Arts item came into the school during his tenure. And we're pretty sure that he didn't know about the Black Arts item, as it was well hidden in a place that was not easy to access."
"And the Black Arts item had to do with Voldemort, hence making it obvious it was placed during Dumbledore's tenure as Headmaster." Lucius said. "What was it?"
"A Horcrux." Sirius said. There was no way to sugar coat that.
Both Narcissa and Lucius reeled backwards like they'd been slapped, nearly identical looks of horror on their faces.
"Dear Merlin. He ... " Lucius shuddered and swallowed convulsively before regaining his equilibrium. "No wonder you asked for that vow. This *cannot* get out. People would panic." Then he gave Sirius another look. "And if you're here telling us about this ... there was more than one."
"And you think one is in a place we have access to." Narcissa said with dawning horror.
"Not think. Know." Sirius said, his tone apologetic. "When we found out about this, we put Dobby on tracking detail, to find the damn things. He tracked one to Gringotts, and one of their vaults ... and another to Malfoy Manor. The horcrux hidden in a vault has been found - not one of yours."
"Which leaves the one in the Manor." Lucius said, sounding horrified and looking more than a little green around the gills. "Where we lived. With. Our. Son."
If the rage in Narcissa's eyes was anything to go by (and Sirius knew it was), Voldemort had put himself in very deep shit with that stunt, even if they were finding out about it so much after the fact. Sirius didn't envy Voldemort one little bit if Narcissa ever caught up with him. Especially if he still had a horcrux at the time. Narcissa would probably be *glad* the bastard couldn't die. But he'd wish he could before too long.
"Dobby could get through your wards, of course, but he didn't want to risk handling the damn thing. Compulsion charms were the least of the protections cast on and around the others."
"So it was either inform me and have me take you through the wards, or have someone break them down by force." Lucius rightfully concluded. "My thanks for not wrecking the manor's wards."
"You're welcome." Sirius said.
"Shall we, then? The sooner that foul excrescence is out of my home, the better."
"Yeah. I have an iron box to put whatever it is in to transport it safely. At least with yours we don't have to worry about Voldemort built traps around the thing. Just whatever is on the thing itself." Sirius said as he got to his feet.
"A small mercy." Lucius agreed.
They apparated out, appearing in front of the Manor, just outside the wards. Sirius deliberately turned his back and looked skyward to allow Lucius to deal with the wards without him watching over his shoulder.
They walked into the house and were greeted by the remaining elves.
"I have a task for you." Lucius told them. "It will be some time before the family can safely return here to stay. In the meantime, I want you to find and remove all Dark or Black items and curses. If something is beyond your capability, come to me and I will send someone to deal with the problem for you. Once all such items are out of the Manor, we will perform a cleansing so that no taint remains."
The elves all nodded eagerly. "We do, Master!" And then they scattered.
"Any idea where this thing might be?" Sirius asked, careful not to say what they were after. House elves might keep their family's secrets, but they could be forced to speak if you knew what you were doing.
"I kept most things of that nature in one spot that was heavily warded. I didn't want to risk Draco." Lucius said. "It's in the dining room."
He led the way to the dining room in question, and opened the trap door, then deactivated some of the wards - the ones designed to keep nosy people from noticing the room at all, or from getting in.
"I think I might even know what it is." Lucius admitted. "He gave something into my safekeeping in '79. It was the only thing he ever gave to me. Doesn't mean he didn't hide something unbeknownst to me, but it's the likeliest source."
They headed down into the room, which the elves had already entered to start dealing with things, since as Lucius had said, the bulk of the *known* Dark and Black arts items were down here. Lucius immediately moved to one of the racks and pulled his wand, levitating what looked like a small book off the topmost shelf.
Sirius hurriedly pulled out the metal box and opened it for Lucius to deposit the suspected horcrux in. Once it was in there, Sirius cast the spell to make sure it was what they were after.
"Yep, it's what we are looking for." Sirius said, then immediately closed and sealed the box. "That's ... three. Horrifying as it may sound, I have a bad feeling there's still more to find."
"Three is a powerful number." Lucius agreed. "But there are stronger. Arithmantically speaking, however, there cannot be more than seven pieces total. Further division would be prevented. There wouldn't be enough left of the starting piece to ensure survival."
"First split would be half, and it'd get worse from there." Sirius agreed. "Though I didn't know that it would be impossible to split past a certain point."
"Magic does have its limits." Lucius said as they made their way out, sounding amused. "Few though those limits are. This, thankfully, is one of them. Because the idea of having to find and destroy dozens or hundreds of these ... " He shuddered.
"Yeah. Not a comforting thought." Sirius agreed. "Not comforting at all."
