Disclaimers: Dark themes, police state ideas, mention of spousal abuse (including rape) on and off-screen, death of minor characters, graphic imagery and violence, frank sex discussion, copious bad language, villainising the Weasleys and Dumbledore, liberties taken with mythical history and the HP real-life timeline.
An hour or so after breakfast and Hermione had tolerably gotten over the mortification brought on by Celesca Lovegood and her incessant curiosity. It was lucky, she reasoned, that she had Luna and Enola as fellows in the Chamber of Shame, and between them they laughed away any potential awkwardness, as they prepared for a very pleasant afternoon tanning themselves in the sunshine of the Blue Palace garden.
But before any of that could be enjoyed, Harry and Hermione had business underground, where Hermione would finally be shown the things that only a true Potter would ever be permitted to see.
The Third Sub-Level of the Palace looked a lot, in Hermione's opinion, like the Department of Mysteries back at the Ministry. Once she had followed Harry through the revolving elevator of Godric Gryffindor's suit of armour, she found herself at the end of a cool, shadowy corridor that looked more like the deepest emerald green than simple black. Numerous recessed doors were set into the shiny, dark-tiled walls and the crackling torches produced only insignificant light, giving the whole place a spooky air of subterfuge and secrets.
"Now, ignore all of these other rooms," Harry told her as they walked briskly past them. "We are here to see just two chambers, down at the far end, and I will tell you the stories behind them. All these others have stories, too, and one day, when it's appropriate, I'll tell you all about them as well. I promise you that, Hermione … that one day you will know all my secrets, I wont keep anything from you anymore, and my full disclosure begins from today."
Hermione smiled shyly at that. "I know you will, Harry. I trust you."
Harry blinked back, his way of a warm smile, before soon coming to a halt outside a door that looked no more remarkable that its neighbours, but which the glint in Harry's eye suggested was otherwise. Hermione wrung her hands and waited for Harry to begin.
"Now, just to start, you know I've always had a bit of money about me, yes?" Harry asked.
"I've never actively thought about it, but I suppose I always knew you were well off," Hermione considered, thoughtfully. "I mean, you always had new robes and equipment and books and things … well, apart from that bloody old copy of Most Potente Potions that came between us during our Hogwarts Sixth Year!"
"Yes, well," Harry grinned bashfully. "Let's not think about that year, shall we? … the memory of you pining and slobbering all over Ron might bring my breakfast back up my throat!"
"Charming!" Hermione laughed. "I could talk about your behaviour back then, too, you know, … but I'm worried that it might be the only tease that makes you genuinely decide to hex me!"
Harry chortled deeply. "I suggest we both forget about it. I got over you turning me down for Slughorn's Christmas Party, after all … and piously ignored you having that animal McLaggen's tongue down your throat when you were under the mistletoe for most of the night …"
"Harry, please …!" Hermione begged, looking a little green. "I've tried to forget that ever happened!"
"Which part?" Harry quirked, wryly. "Not going with me … or your five sets of tonsil tennis with Cormac?"
"Shut up, Harry!" Hermione rebuked. "Just tell me about this fortune you mentioned."
Harry laughed heartily, which surprised him. "Look at me! Laughing about you with other wizards! I genuinely break things when I think about stuff like that usually. Dr Freud might call it growth! I'll have to tell him about it later."
"What … Sigmund Freud?" Hermione queried in astonishment. "How have you …"
"Later," Harry cut her off, with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Today we are talking about material wealth."
"Which I hope you have plenty of," Hermione told him, gravely. "The Palace is a state. I'm amazed it's still standing!"
"Nah, she's a tough old girl," Harry grinned. "Such just needs time to rest and recover. She'll be right as rain in no time."
Hermione quirked her eyebrow at him. "Why are you talking about the Palace as if it is a living entity?"
"Because, in a way, it is!"
Harry let his cryptic announcement hang in the air a second, until Hermione crossed her arms and demanded an elaboration.
"This house is configured to channel a unique type of energy," Harry began.
"Yes, I know that," Hermione cut in, impatiently. "It's yours."
"Wrong," Harry corrected with a grin. "It is the energy of the Potters that flows around this place. And while it is true that it reflects my moods and state of mind, even my physical condition in extreme cases … which is why the house was so shattered after our wedding night activities, because my body was exhausted, too … that is only because I was the only Potter for it to tap into.
"But now … there's you, as well. Which is why the devastation was so extreme … it was reflective of the mess we both left each other in, in the best possible way, of course!"
Hermione let out a hush of surprise. She had once thought that the house had responded to her energies in much the same way as it did to Harry's, and it was only now that she saw how these were tentative connections, almost as though it were testing her out, putting her worthiness on trial.
And, if what Harry was suggesting was correct, the house must have decided that she had passed the test … that she really was Mrs Hermione Potter now. She felt the warmth of understanding flood all through her, and enjoyed the smile that it bloomed across her cheeks.
"So, are you saying that the house will get better as soon as we do?" Hermione asked.
"Yes, unless an external influence stops it doing otherwise."
"Like the elves keeping that roundtower as shrine of a ruin," Hermione nodded sagely. "So that's why you were laughing at everything today? You know the damage was superficial."
"Oh, I don't know about superficial," Harry swooned lowly. "My love-making wounds were quite deep … and very satisfying … I'll have you know!"
"Harry!" Hermione admonished, achingly cute in her shyness. "Stay on track, sweetheart."
"Yes, Boss!" Harry twittered. "Let's get back to the money. So, yeah, I was never shy of a bit of gold, was I? The reason being, you see, was that following the early death of my maternal grandparents … who were both getting on a bit when they had my Mum, and neither of whom survived to see me born … their house passed to my Mum and Aunt Petunia in their will.
"But then, when my father's Dad heard that Mum was pregnant, he bought Petunia out of her share of the house and gave full ownership to my Mum, sort of like a future-proofed birthday present for me. For, you see, Mum then sold the house and put the money into savings fund at Gringotts for me, one I couldn't touch until I came of age.
"Even after all the fees and taxes were paid, the house still fetched over three-hundred thousand pounds when all was said and done."
"That was really thoughtful and forward-thinking of Lily," Hermione nodded in approval. "And it's not an amount to be scoffed at either. Three hundred grand is a nice little nest egg, isn't it?"
"It was, and from little eggs big things can grow," Harry replied, somewhat smugly. "You see, under my father's direction … both before and after his death … a Goblin Investment Banker was employed to oversee the Fund, and make prudent investments where he saw fit."
"And I assume the investments were shrewd?" Hermione replied.
Harry tapped his chin dramatically as he considered his answer. "The money was mostly invested in businesses and other ventures overseas, in Europe and South America specifically. Not all at once, mind you … stock brokers are dodgy bastards in any world … but the investments were good and soon started paying off.
"I knew nothing about this until the Knights told me. Lord Kelvin, who is my solicitor by trade, guided me as I invested more, until soon I had a bulging portfolio of stocks and property holdings that is, at this point, significant. When you factor in the estate that I alone inherited following my parent's death … which was absorbed into my own accounts .. our annual dividends are very pretty at this point."
"Harry … don't make me hex this out of you!" Hermione huffed. "How much are we talking about here?"
"Okay, keep your knickers on … or don't," Harry smirked. "We are quite alone down here, you know …"
"Harry Potter!" Hermione yelped, faux affronted, as she slapped his arm playfully.
"Maybe later?" he asked, hopefully.
"Definitely later … if you ever get to the point sometime soon!"
Harry chortled, deeply. "Well, at last count … and don't get disquieted by this … behind this door sits about half a billion Galleons, give or take a Sickle or two."
And Hermione promptly clutched at her chest in a fabulously comical manner.
"And," Harry went on, smugly ignoring his wife's spluttering display. "If you include all of my … I mean, our … assets and property and stock portfolio, both here and abroad, you can scale that number up by ... ooh, I don't know ... a factor of, maybe … seven?
"So, congratulations, Mrs Potter ... you have just become the wealthiest witch in Europe, and one of the five richest in the whole world!"
"Oh my … goodness help me!" Hermione breathed. She sat down on the floor in a daze. "Harry … that … with that much money, we … oh my, think of all the things we could do with that! All the good we could do, Harry! Oh my … I feel a little faint."
"Well, I was thinking of using it to bribe Death Eaters and traitors, to get them to switch sides," Harry teased, thoughtfully. "But then I decided I'd just rather just line the bastards up and slaughter the whole fucking lot of them."
"You are not giving away our fortune to Death Eaters, don't you even bloody think about it!" Hermione told him, dangerously. "We could do so much positive for people with that sort of funding. We could set up charities and welfare schemes; schools and orphanages for the generation of children brainwashed and robbed of their parents by Tom Riddle's evil; recovery centres for all the battered witch-wives out there … because I know there are plenty of those, and not one of them is as fortunate as me, to have a magical cure-all like you to help them deal with their abuses … the list is endless!
"Harry … that's how we could really change the world! We can help the sick and weak and needy … we can bring aid and hope to the people who … who don't have so much as us..."
Hermione's thoughts flew to Luna, the worries that she once expressed about her future, and the sort of help that Hermione could give her now, or others like her, as Luna was part of the family and going nowhere. Maybe she could buy Celesca from her … maybe share her on a short-term loan. She'd pay a handsome rent … by the hour, annual rate, whatever worked … Hermione was loaded now, after all … she was sure they could work out some sort of time-share deal for her favourite little Seer …
"Shut up, Hermione," she thought to herself. "Keep your head on!"
"I'm happy for you to indulge yourself," said Harry, blissfully unaware of Hermione's minor flight of temporary insanity. "The vault has a built-in magical ledger, which records all incomings and outgoings, so I can see what you spend if I choose to … but I want you to start considering this as your money now, and become comfortable enough to use it whenever and however you like … as I said this morning ... within reason, obviously."
"What's within reason?"
"No presents for other handsome wizards," Harry funned. "Or prostitutes. I warn you, I'm liable to become even more rabidly possessive now where you're concerned. I don't want to share you … that's where I draw my line That's pretty much it, though."
"Okay. No presents for sexy wizards," Hermione swore faithfully, a tint of humour in her solemn eyes. "So … can I see it?"
Harry grinned, turned around and ran his forefinger along the centre line of the door. Hermione watched with increasingly wide eyes as the fortune was revealed to her, losing her breath entirely when she saw the final amount displayed in stark sight.
For there weren't just piles and stacks of gold here … there were mountains of it!
Literal mountains. Hermione couldn't even see the top of some of them, as they disappeared into a sort of golden mist at the top of the chamber. The amount was obscene, the sheer number of coins collected here defying logic … Hermione looked as though she had been hit with half a billion Stunning spells as she tried to take it all in.
"Wow … Harry! Just wow!" Hermione breathed faintly, dappled in the golden light reflected by her new wealth. "Is this really all ours?"
"Every single Knut," Harry grinned to her. "And like I said, it's only a fraction of our true net financial worth. Since Old Tom's ascension to Dark King of the Britons, my income in Europe has stayed at Goblin Banking and Holdings sites across the Continent, but the GBH in Britain kindly reconfigured their branch in London to redirect all domestic payments directly here, via a complex and untraceable network of delivery lines. Riddle and his chums have tried to hack in at least a dozen times, but it's impervious to any malicious magic."
"The Goblins helped you?" Hermione asked, in surprise. "But I thought they supported The Regime?"
"The Goblins support the Goblins," Harry corrected her, flatly. "They are largely neutral in terms of wizarding politics, but neutrality means accepting, and working with, whoever the ruling power is at the time. They helped, and funded, the rise of the Death Eaters to the position of the lone power in Magical Government, as even evil regimes cant function without effective financial infrastructure.
"They hoarded their looted treasure and art works, bankrolled the major construction works of the Avada Chambers and work camps and Muggleborn Re-Education Centres, provided the bribes to Muggle politicians, to cover up the ever-encroaching Magical activities in the Muggle world …
"But the Goblins are centrally concerned with wealth and profit … and families like ours represent the rich potential of both. So, as long as they play ball with the Death Eaters, they are largely given freedom to conduct business as usual. It then falls to the individual investor to decide if they are confident enough to leave their money in such a place."
"And you weren't? Confident, I mean?" Hermione asked.
Harry shook his head. "No, I was not. I removed all of my wealth from Gringotts as soon knew I had this place to keep it safe instead. You don't need me to tell you how badly the county was pilfered and extorted following Riddle's victory, as 'rewards' for him and his fucking clan when they took over … as hush money for influential dissenters … soothing pay-offs for those who got cold feet at the sight of the calculated Muggleborn genocide he was asking them to carry out in his name."
"No, I am well aware of all of that!" Hermione spat, bitterly. "I know that it is precisely how Ron was rapidly elevated to the ranks of the super-rich at least."
Harry looked at Hermione in a cautious manner, and when he spoke his voice was quiet, considered and delicate.
"Do you? Do you know precisely how he did it?"
Hermione swallowed sharply, as though Harry's very words were a jagged object that had scratched painfully into her throat. She braced herself for an explanation that she knew innately she wasn't going to like one bit. Hermione gulped hard again, as a dense silence was born in the air between them.
The truth was, Hermione didn't know the full and horrendous tale of Ron's rise to prominence. She'd never wanted to know the details and minutiae, as the guesses were bad enough, so she'd never ventured to learn more. She knew that Ron had been rewarded handsomely by Riddle, though she'd never quite known for doing what.
But, judging by the hurt, murderous look in Harry's eye, he did know … and it wouldn't be a pleasant story for him to tell.
"What is it, Harry?" Hermione asked lowly, stepping close and pressing a hand to his chest, to still his heaving hatred. "I have a feeling that I'm not going to like hearing this … but tell me everything that I don't already know."
Harry sighed weightily, closed the door to the Potter Vaults with slow, deliberate movements … then moved to the next door along. He paused with his hand on the door, and closed his eye in his building ire. He took another deep gulp of the cool air to steady his searing nerves.
"When you took that brave trip into Europe, to rally the International Confederation of Wizards to our cause, you travelled out using the only active portal through the Containment Wards, one designated purely for diplomatic purposes," Harry began slowly. "But when you came back, you used another … altogether more secret … route home."
"Your Ratway!" Hermione breathed in subdued excitement. She had been eager for Harry to explain to her all about this incredible conduit to safety he had set up with Amelie Flamel … but she hadn't expected that Ron would have any connection to it. She shuddered violently, as she considered the myriad of wild possibilities flittering through her mind, tempering her enthusiasm for the disclosure. How in the hell could a Weasley be involved with something so brave and positive?
Harry was about to tell her … and the story would make Hermione hate the family even more than before.
"Exactly, my Ratway," Harry began. "With the help of my Knights and the Order of Merlin, we set it up as a way to smuggle victims of The Regime out of the country, once the European Council of Magic closed the borders on Magical Britain. It was a clandestine, underground network of fearless witches and wizards, who would work tirelessly to shuttle to safety anyone who found us and sought refuge abroad.
"The Burrow was used as a major safehouse in the early days, a stop off point if you like. Bill and Fleur were part of the system then, and Arthur converted the basement and cellars into secret bunkers, where people on the run could hide until we came to collect them, before moving them on to the next stop on the Ratway
"Desperate Magicals would go to The Burrow, be given new identities, and then be taken to a point where they could safely cross into Europe, or board Muggle ships to Africa or the Americas. And then, we would use our insiders at Gringotts to shift all their material wealth into this room … which I call The Ratway Vaults."
Harry opened the door and Hermione was hit with wide-eyed astonishment again … for even though the amount of gold and possessions in this room seemed less than next door, it was still a substantial collection, and one hell of a sight to see.
"This is where I keep it safe for them all," Harry explained quietly. "Lord Kelvin has meticulously catalogued everything, so that we know who to return it to when the time comes. All items in this room are accounted for, and to remove even a single Sickle without my express permission would trigger the firing of an Immobility Curse and an alarm to me, personally … because I'd like to look the thief in the eyes before I killed him where he stood."
Hermione shuddered at Harry's icy declaration … he meant every syllable in the coldest determination he possessed. Hermione felt his ferocity stir inside her.
"I want in on that, Harry," Hermione told him, fiercely. "Even if you wont cut me in on the enchantment, I'd like to be with here with you when you carried out the punishment … if anyone was idiotic enough to try and steal from this place. You really are an extraordinary level of hero, do you know?"
"No, I'm not … because of what I allowed to happen to the Ratway," Harry replied, his voice low, half-guilty and half-infernal anger.
"Tell me," Hermione insisted. She readied her best calming-Harry magic inside her breast … she felt she might need it for the declaration.
"After Arthur gave up hope of convincing Ron and Ginny and Charlie to see the insanity of their actions, he did something I've never forgiven him for … he stole from the Ratway fund, not a great amount, but enough to get him and Molly out of Britain and set up comfortably elsewhere," Harry explained, his tone like acid. "Molly was heartbroken by the betrayal by her youngest children … it was the thing that killed her, not half a year after they reached Egypt. Bill and Fleur went with them, under the guise of protection, but they had simply turned their backs on the fight here like cowards.
"They angered me just as much as Arthur," Harry riled, the air turning dense and taut as his boiling fury ignited it around them. "Fleur had been sponsored by Amelie Flamel during her tuition at Beauxbatons, and was due to Apprentice with her in due course. I expected that she'd go right to her, that she and Bill would join our underground resistance in Europe.
"But they didn't. They fled to Egypt with Arthur, where they've set up a very lucrative business in Cairo. They enchant items for tourists, give tours of the wizard tombs … Arthur even offers sight-seeing rides for kids on a magic carpet."
"What!" Hermione shot, angered and disgusted. "How could they?"
"It gets worse," Harry told her. "Molly's dying wish was that Arthur continue trying to help Ron and Ginny, but Arthur is quite as stupid as either of them. So his way of helping them … and this is ongoing to this day … is by depositing as much money as he can spare into a secret account in the Gringotts Bank of Egypt … one that can be accessed in London by either Ron or Ginny whenever they choose."
Hermione felt a vein pop out on her temple. "So … is that how Ron got his all money!"
"No … not all of it," Harry seethed. "Even magic carpet rides wouldn't make a pauper into a millionaire overnight."
Hermione swore and gasped in anger … and swore again. "Ron was … is … a millionaire?"
Harry nodded solemnly.
"How? He never showed me a god-damned Knut of generosity to suggest he had so much!"
"Do you really expect him to have?" Harry asked, fairly. "He's a self-absorbed, paranoid, hoarder. He'd only spend lavishly if it was a way to show off or to gain favour … and, without you taking this the wrong way, showering a Muggleborn, thief of magic witch hardly counts!"
"Then I take back what I said earlier," Hermione huffed, bitterly. "You'd better shower me with as many gifts as you can, to make up the shortfall!"
"I will definitely be doing that," Harry confirmed, but his mood didn't lighten a jot.
"So, go on then … tell me how Ron acquired his wealth," Hermione demanded.
Harry's mood darkened dramatically, and covered him like a stormcloak. Hermione dropped her cross and self-interested air in a flash, and became instantly concerned for what this confession would bring out in her husband.
"After Arthur and Bill had gone, Ron and Ginny took over the management of The Burrow, and immediately set about finding out what their father had been using it for, because they knew he was hiding something," Harry continued.
"Dont tell me they found out about the Ratway?!" Hermione hissed in her horror.
Harry closed his eye and nodded. "Arthur had left in a hurry. He hadn't tidied up after himself, leaving evidence of his own false paperwork in plain sight, as well as the open bunkers to where the protected funds were being kept."
"Oh my word!" Hermione cried. "Stupid, stupid man!"
"Yeah," Harry riled. "It didn't take Ron and Ginny long to work out what had been going on, and then tell people who were really useful in exploiting the information."
"So, I suppose you had to shut the Ratway down after that? It would have been too dangerous to use, I imagine?"
Harry, abruptly and unexpectedly, punched the open door with full force, as a torrent of frightful anger burst free from him as this memory stirred. Hermione felt it prickle over her skin in dark waves, as she leapt back in startled shock and surprise at Harry's sudden eruption. She was desperate to go to him, to soothe him. But he was visibly shaking with rage and she felt she should wait it out a moment.
"Ron and Ginny kept the Ratway going," Harry ground out acidically. "But they re-purposed it for their own ends. They saw the potential of the massive financial gain that could be tapped into, by exploiting the weak and the vulnerable, those who had sought us out in their most helpless of hours.
"So they hijacked parts of our underground communication network, keeping it active for anyone who could find it. Frightened, desperate Magicals kept coming to them for help … all the ones being hunted or persecuted by Riddle and his followers … they would find Ron and Ginny and they … they told them ..."
Angry magic burst free from Harry and cracked the wall in front of him. Hermione dug her fists into her robe to stop herself from jumping up to go to him. He still wasn't finished.
"They told them …" Harry breathed in deeply, fruitlessly trying to steady himself. "… told them to bring all their gold, all their possessions, everything of value that they wanted to save. The Weasleys said they would store it for them, then send it on later, exactly the same way we had.
"They made it all seem so genuine … even going as far as telling people to expect delays on being reunited with their possessions, as it was getting too dangerous to carry very much along the Ratway as time went on. Fear does the most terrible things to people, Hermione. The Magicals were so desperate to escape, most forgot they could probably Transfigure everything they owned and put into a box no bigger than that one I gave you your engagement ring in.
"But in their panic and terror, they just did exactly what Ron and Ginny told them to. The Weasleys fed the escapees all sorts of sob stories and excuses about themselves, to cover their duplicity … inventing yarns about how they were helpless slaves to The Regime themselves, just to mask the stench of their own treacherousness. I imagine they were the same ones that Ron had you believing for a while
"It was even easier for his cunt of a sister … Ginny Weasley may be the most accomplished liar I've ever met. The role was perfect for her.
"So, frightened Magicals would come along, hand over all their earthly possessions to the Weasleys, in return for being smuggled along the Ratway to a new, safe life abroad. Husbands protecting their wives, desperate parents doing whatever they could, sacrificing everything to save their terrified children …
"It's what had happened … it was exactly what we had done before … so people walked blindly in, none the wiser to the fact that it was all an elaborate trap.
"They trusted the Weasleys … as they trusted me and my proxies, and the escape route we'd set up for them. But Ron and Ginny they ... they ..."
Harry's breaths were coming in shallow troughs now. Hermione's restless urge to soothe him was making her wild in her withheld frenzy. She watched his struggle, almost frozen in place by the force of his emotion. He commanded himself to finish the story.
"Ron and Ginny would take the Magicals into The Burrow, storing their goods and money, and promising them freedom within a few days," Harry went on. Hermione didn't know how he was still able to talk. She could feel the hatred pounding through his very words, pouring out of his mouth like scorching lava. "But, in fact, those poor wretches would never leave The Burrow alive … for Ron and Ginny would simply deliver them into the now-converted cellars … where they'd have them killed."
Hermione sucked in her angriest breath yet.
"They didn't even do the dirty work themselves," Harry seethed on. "They would hermetically seal the escapees in the cellars, then pay someone else to cast a special Cyclone Spell in them, a spell designed to suck all of the air out of the place … leaving the victims to die horribly … of suffocation. They all died that way, hundreds of them … thousands, maybe … the witches, the wizards, the old … and the children."
Hermione clutched at her throat as a strangled sob escaped it. Hot tears hit her cheeks before she even felt them coming. Harry looked too incensed to show that kind of emotion … it was revenge he was consumed with right now, not abject pity.
"When enough time had passed, the Weasleys would simply return to The Burrow and divide up the spoils between them. Ron took the most, as it would look very suspicious for one of Riddle's Chief Concubines to suddenly become too self-sufficient, especially a previous pauper like Ginny. The Weasleys barely had a pot to piss in before the war, so it would have looked dodgy for Ginny to go from dedicating her womb to her career in unpaid prostitution, to suddenly flashing the cash like a lottery winner.
"So they allowed Ron to get rich, he in turn spent lavishly on Ginny under her own direction, and they passed it off as brotherly generosity and displays of fealty to Riddle … ways to ingratiate Ron to the upper echelons of the Dark Order.
"I … I've heard stories about the lengths that they'd go to for money, Hermione … terrible, terrible stories … of how they even pulled gold teeth from the corpses of their Muggleborn and Muggle victims … just so they could melt them down to sell or store."
Hermione cried out in abject horror. Tears flowed freely now, and she finally gave in to her imperative need to soothe her husband. She leapt up and drew him to her. Harry's anger flowed out in surging waves, coating her in his darkness a moment, but Hermione's concerned need to comfort him seemed to create a barrier that stopped it escaping … then utterly dissipated it a moment later. It was confined to the space of their embrace and Hermione could absorb it, use it to fuel her own determination to calm her husband, before siphoning it away.
Where did it go? Who could say … but, in the intensity of the situation, neither really noticed that this was happening anyway.
"I tried to put a stop to it … but by the time I realised what was happening, the Weasleys were on the verge of shutting down their operation anyway," Harry went on, pulling clear of Hermione to angrily pace again. "Ron was getting a regular income from Arthur by then, and his stolen wealth was accruing significant interest in his vault at Gringotts. He was well off and only getting wealthier.
"So he turned his attention to advancing his Death Eater career. Ginny was manipulating his rise professionally, pulling the strings, sleeping with the right people to get her brother the promotions he needed, knowing that the richer he became, the more she would get in return as payment.
"But Ron needed to make a big stir of his own, deliver a significant prize to The Regime … one that would propel him to Riddle's Top Table.
"And, so, that was when Ron's final betrayal to the Order of the Phoenix took place … for it was by using the information that Arthur had carelessly given him access to, by not covering his own cowardly flight from Britain, that Ron came into possession of a complete list of active and operating members of the Ratway, locations of our safehouses, transport and meeting hubs, and the top underground Magicals who were co-ordinating our most dangerous efforts of resistance.
"Through using that document, Ron was able to spearhead the rounding up of our leaders on the ground, before turning them over to the depravity of the Death Eaters for fame and favour. Prominent wizards like Shacklebolt and Slughorn, certain Knight Bus conductors - who would turn a blind eye for a bulging bag of Sickles - Dean Thomas and Ernie Macmillan, and the racing pigeons they trained for us to use in place of trackable owls.
"And, finally, he was able to capture and turn over our most formidable ally of all, the acknowledged leader of the Resistance Movement in Magical Britain … for the last resident of The Burrow cellars was … was … Minerva McGonagall."
"No!" Hermione moaned, the ache of the confession punching her squarely in the chest.
This aspect pierced her viciously to the heart as she heard it, wounded her ferociously, as, Harry knew, McGonagall had been Hermione's favourite teacher back in their school days. Learning of Ron's treachery towards her felt like yet another personal assault … and one more enormous reason to vitriolically despise him. Hermione screeched out in emotional agony, as her rage rose to a level that matched Harry's stride-for-stride.
"They lured Minerva to The Burrow, for one last hurrah," Harry spat out. "Ron was fast becoming the poster child for Riddle's insane magical purification regime, Ginny on the verge of spawning her first abominable child by him. Once they were exposed to the public, they wouldn't be able to fool naive innocents about their true natures anymore … and the Ratway would cease to serve them.
"I never knew exactly how Minerva had died until … until we saw it in that decoy Horcrux," Harry ground on relentlessly. "She was sheltering at The Burrow, on the run from the Death Eaters, after breaking into the Atrium of the Ministry of Magical Governance and setting fire to the mounted trophy that they'd erected of Filius Flitwick's head, following his decapitation by Antonin Dolohov.
"I just assumed that she'd been suffocated like all the others. I had no idea that Riddle had actually gone to The Burrow himself, to do it personally. But I should have guessed … Tom always did like powerful trophies, and Minerva McGonagall is as powerful as they come. Or, at least, she was …"
"I cant believe this, Harry!" Hermione fumed. "I just cant believe it … cant believe him! McGonagall was my favourite teacher … I loved that witch! Ooh, I'm definitely going to scalp Ron in her name now, make a tartan beret out of the flesh, just to honour her memory!"
"When you do, perhaps you can give it as a gift … along with the enormous wealth he stole from Minerva back to its rightful owner," Harry suggested, quietly.
"Minerva had wealth?" Hermione asked in surprise.
"Her family did," Harry explained. "Then Riddle took it and gave it as a reward to your traitorous former husband, as well as bequeathing to him McGonagall's large family estate in Ayr, Scotland ... not far from Hogwarts, actually. Minerva's brother, who legally owned that vast sway of land, was chased out of the country by the Death Eaters. Luckily, he fled right to me … became my magical solicitor, actually …"
"Lord Angus Kelvin!" Hermione exclaimed, vehemently. "He's McGonagall's brother?"
"He is," Harry confirmed. "Minerva married, obviously, and took her husband's surname, but the Kelvins were a powerful family in their own right. Rich, too. Ron was given all their wealth, lands, assets … making him an aristocrat virtually overnight."
"So that's why Malfoy and the Death Eaters kept calling him Lord Weasley?!" cried Hermione. "I did wonder … considering most of them knew how much of a joke he was."
"I understand they called him a lot of other names in private," Harry informed her. "Genuine respect cant be bought, Hermione, especially if you are still as big a prick and as mediocre a wizard as he is."
"I don't want to talk about him anymore … not unless it's when you are delivering him to me to cut into little bits," Hermione scoffed, bitterly. "I have so much to hate him for, Harry … for all the people he's wronged in the world besides me … I don't think I have room in my heart for this much hatred!"
"I'm so sorry, Hermione … I let this happen … I've let so many people down, by being so weak and stupid … so many people …"
Hermione was half-wild in her concern for Harry, with her fresh surges of hatred for Ron and Ginny. She snatched out, clutching Harry's head back to her shoulder with everything she had. She knew exactly what he was thinking, as if his thoughts were crossing through her own mind …
But the potency of the emotions running around inside Hermione robbed her of the ability to realise quite how precise the thoughts were, or to consider the deeper meaning of that … such musings had to be batted aside until Harry was calmed again, until his anguish and agitation had been slain.
He blamed himself for all of this, Hermione knew. He'd set up this escape route … created hope for those who needed it most … only to have his brave efforts so disgustingly perverted by the Weasleys. And at the cost of Minerva McGonagall's life into the bargain. Hermione was frenetic in her need to reassure him, to absolve him of his misplaced guilt … but she knew that this wasn't the time. While the perpetrators were still at large, Harry and incessant rage would have no closure.
Ronald Weasley … Ginevra Weasley-De-Mort … Antonin Dolohov … the list of people Hermione was going to slaughter with abominable violence was forming clearly in her mind now.
She couldn't soothe Harry of this, but maybe keeping him talking would be cathartic enough for now.
"What you did was very brave," Hermione whispered, in firm but gentle support. She eased Harry's head back a little, so she could lovingly smooth his good cheek. "You set up a conduit of hope … I'd have certainly taken hope from it, had I known it existed. But I suppose Ron was especially active in trying to keep knowledge of it from me … and it was the Weasleys, including the stupidity of Arthur, who turned it to such nefarious purposes, my love, not you. This isn't your fault.
"You can't take the blame for them being such devious, ginger cunts, Harry."
He sighed deeply, smirking against his will at Hermione's atrocious language … designed to lighten his atrocious mood … and turned his head into her ministrations beneath his shawl. He'd never be able to tell her how much he loved her, no matter how long and how often he spent at the task. It was so devilishly frustrating.
"I don't deserve you," Harry whispered back with a thankful smile, rubbing his face against her fingers as if she were petting him.
"I know … but if you keep trying, anything is possible!" Hermione teased lightly, causing Harry to snort out a laugh at last. "So, tell me how personally you were involved in the Ratway? How did you manage to help so many people when we all thought that you were dead? Even you're not that good, Harry!"
It was a shot at positive reinforcement from Hermione. Turn the guilt around, focus on the positives, use them to lighten her husband's mood as much as she was able. It seemed to work, as Harry grinned weakly and his shoulders relaxed a little.
"I feel like I can trust you with any secret, so here's one you might enjoy," Harry began, slowly and a little smugly. "The wizard Merlin, as you know, is a distant ancestor of mine. He was born in a coastal cave near the town of Carmarthen in Western Wales. It was such a significant magical event in our history that it left a fundamental imprint on the very atmosphere in that area of the country.
"You see, the magical discharge created by his birth was so ridiculously intense that no other magic can infiltrate the space there. When the European Council of Magic erected the Restriction Wards around Britain, they had no choice but to leave a gap open in that spot. Even their combined magical efforts couldn't penetrate it.
"So, it seemed like a natural place to create the final stop on the Ratway out of Britain, a little doorway to freedom no bigger than the space occupied by Merlin's mother, when she gave birth to him there. And that was where you re-entered Britain recently, via that wild cave in West Wales."
"Wow, Harry," said Hermione. "That's one hell of a secret to hold!"
"Exactly … which is why the European Council of Magic needed one hell of a Secret Keeper to protect it," said Harry, pointedly.
Hermione fixed him with a confused stare for all of three seconds … until she gasped aloud as understanding settled on her. "You? You're the Secret Keeper of the Wards!"
Harry nodded. "I erected a secondary barrier on our side of the European one, completely covering the cove where the cave is located, thus shielding the exposed exit. When a Magical refugee made it there to escape, I would turn up under my Dad's old Invisibility Cloak, open the Ward in secret, and let them through before closing it again.
"I even added my magic to the Wards outside as well, so that their signature is practically identical … which allows me to do something quite useful …"
"That's how you can move through the Restrictions on Britain!" Hermione exclaimed, excitedly. "Because you helped create them, it give you a pass through them! It's got nothing to do with special crossing points at all!"
"There's my little genius!" Harry grinned, fondly. "Your mind at work genuinely gets me all hot and bothered, do you know?"
"I'll have to remember that one!" Hermione laughed back. "So, you can cross anywhere? At any point in the Restriction Field?"
"I can," Harry nodded. "Anyone trying to curse-break the Wards would have no idea that I was part of the defences, unless they dug really deep into the magic of the point near Merlin's Cave to find my magic within it, and the possibility of that happening is extremely remote.
"And because I can move through it, anyone who shares my magic and energy can, too … particularly my wife."
Hermione blinked in her surprise. "So, that's how I got through without you opening the Wards for me when I came home … because you were in my mind?"
"No," Harry smiled, warmly. "It was because I was in your heart. You were Mrs Hermione Potter the moment my family ring accepted you into our little clan, entwining the very base of my energy with yours. It recognised you for all the perfect that you are … and swore allegiance to you as a result."
Hermione leaned in and kissed Harry deeply, indecently. It would have been a thousand types of wrong not to. But then a confusing thought caused her to break away from him before they got carried away.
"But Harry … if you have to open the Wards to get out … how did Arthur manage it without you knowing?"
And, just like that, Harry's mood nosedived again.
"This is where Bill and Fleur went beyond redemption, too," Harry seethed. "They waited … and waited … and waited … until a certain type of family came to us seeking help. Then their cowardly plan swung into action.
"I personally screened everyone who found us, you see, just to make sure we weren't being hoodwinked by Death Eaters, or had Section Seven trying to infiltrate our operation. I would stealthily enter the Holding Chambers under The Burrow and use a bit of secret Legilimency on the guests we had hiding there, just to make sure they were genuine.
"The last time I was called there was to look at a family who had been smuggled to us by Oliver Wood, who is one of our insiders at the Ministry. Young family, too … Mum and Dad no more than twenty-one, twenty two, something like that … two kids … twins, in fact, one boy and one girl … so young that they must have been born when the parents were still at Hogwarts, a product of childhood romance, but obviously a happy one. The parents were very much in love, I was in no doubt about that without using any Cerebral Magic.
"But they were so frightened that night, Hermione, terrified about what was going to happen to them and their poor, scared children … I was so beside myself with worry for them that I almost came out and revealed my identity, hoping that it might calm them down a bit.
"They'd spent months on the run, apparently … the father worked with Oliver, and he had told some off-handed joke about Voldemort being a half-blood, when he was drunk at the pub on a staff night out. The wrong person heard it, told the authorities, and that was enough to get the father placed onto a Death Eater Watchlist … and then their twins got targeted in that sickening eugenics programme that I hear the Hiranis are suffering under …
"Poor Parvati and Padma … I wish I knew where they were, so I could go and get them and their kids, but it's the top of all Top Secret programmes and we cant find out anything about it, even its location. I think Tom, himself, must be conducting it … how else could it be so well concealed?
"But, anyway, I went to see the family when they arrived at The Burrow," Harry ploughed on. "And they were so genuine that it broke my heart. It was the children, I think, and not just because they were children. I've met some arsehole little kids … not all of them are cute and adorable, you know.
"But these two left an impression on me. They were shivering with fear when I saw them, they were that frightened … actually shivering. I'd never seen a child shake like that before … and if I never see it again it will be too soon. It certainly wont erase the image of these two from my mind, in any case.
"Oddly, it was as if being on the verge of escape was the time when they were the most frightened … as if turning over their safety to us had taken away their own control, and it petrified them," Harry continued. Then his expression clouded darkly again. "Though I later learned that their fear … which was very real and very genuine as it was … had actually been heightened by some very obscure magic that I wasn't familiar with at the time.
"For it turns out that the magic of infatuation and obsession can be flipped to a much darker purpose with the right focus …"
"Veela Magic!" Hermione hissed in her seething anger. "Fleur made them even more terrified than they were! But why?"
"To get in to my head, to play on my most crippling weakness … my desire to help people in need," Harry confessed. "I think you call it my saving-people-thing."
Hermione swore violently. Harry had never heard that particular configuration of curses before, but he was deeply impressed by his wife's creativity in combining them as she had.
"Explain this to me, Harry, right now!" Hermione raged. "I am this close to declaring a full-on Blood Feud against the entire Weasley race! I just want to make sure I have nothing to regret when I do … so tell me why Fleur would do something so sinister … and to innocent children no less!"
"It's simple, really," Harry replied, darkly. "The process was always the same … I'd screen the escapees at The Burrow, then again at Merlin's Cave, just to make sure that they hadn't been replaced … or Polyjuiced … in the intervening time. Once the Weasleys had acquired a family of four, Polyjuicing into them was the easy part … hell, you could brew Polyjuice when you were barely a teenager! The recipe is readily available in a Hogwarts text book!
"No, their big problem was getting around me. I may not be the brightest tool in the box, and you might fool me once … but you'll never fool me twice, not where magic is concerned these days. So they had to find a workaround … a way to play my heart off against my mind, knowing that my passions would always win out."
"Oh, oh … I think I see what you're saying!" Hermione cried, angrily. "They had to get past you at Merlin's Cave … so they made the kids immensely frightened when you saw them at The Burrow, used Veela Magic to play on your pity and your heart … so frightened, in fact, that you'd be so desperate to get them out of Britain that you wouldn't screen them again at the gateway … you wouldn't follow the safe, logical procedure … you'd ignore your mind!"
"Ten points to Team Hermione," Harry smiled, weakly and sadly. "And that is exactly what happened. The Weasleys slipped past me, looking so grateful - Polyjuiced into that scared family - that I felt like I'd won the entire fucking war with one victory! So I didn't bother with my secondary checks, despite Narcissa warning me to the contrary. I just ushered them quickly through with a cheery little wave … then was left to hate myself when I realised how they'd screwed me."
"Why didn't Narcissa check them?"
"There was no point … I conducted the baseline validity test at The Burrow, so it was always my final say-so to open the exit portal or not," Harry explained. "And my head had been turned already, to help this family no matter what, thanks - in no small part - to Fleur's manipulation of the children."
"And what happened to the actual family?" Hermione chanced.
"What do you fucking think happened to them!" Harry yelled, his emotion snapping like a thunder cloud.
Harry screeched in his anguish, immediately ashamed of his outburst. He pulled Hermione into the tightest hug he was capable of, before she even had a chance to feel hurt by his venting at her. She held him closer, letting him know with her fierce embrace that she was there to absorb his frustrations with the world, and that he was free to let go with her.
"I'm so sorry … forgive me … please?" Harry breathed into her fragrant hair. "This is my guilt, I was stupid and weak and played … but it doesn't give me the right to yell at you. Nothing does."
"You weren't yelling at me, you were just yelling," Hermione soothed. "I'd have told you off by now, if you were trying to be that sassy with me!"
"Hex me … if I ever speak like that to you," Harry made her swear. "I'm sorry. This just makes me so angry, because I swore to myself that if I ever came across anything like that again … children looking that horrendously scared … that I wouldn't hesitate in my actions … I'd bring them straight here, to safety, and deal with the consequences later. I hoped that I'd never have to follow through with that … that I'd never see a child that frightened again … and I didn't … not until …
"… until that night we saw the Death Eaters trying to sacrifice Celesca in Glastonbury."
Hermione yelped shrilly as the memory sliced to her. It hurt her like a blow to the chest. "Those kids they … they looked like that? Like poor Cesc did that night?"
"Just as bad," Harry confirmed, closing his eye and fighting tears that were so, so close as the memory surged hard through him. "I've never forgotten it … I doubt I ever will. And when I saw little Cesc that frightened, that mindlessly panicked, up on that ceremonial altar … I just lost it … I had to get to her, no matter what it cost, no matter how many of them I had to bite and maim and kill … I just had to get to her …
"I thought … maybe … if I could get to her … if I could just save her … it might make up for not … for what I … it might make up a little bit for not … for not …"
And then, Harry's tears came as his guilt got the better of him. They broke scorchingly hot against Hermione's cheek and Harry was uncontrollable in his grief. All Hermione could do was be there with him as he rode this out, beyond consolation, beyond external soothing. He would calm in his own way, however that was. All Hermione could do was hold him, reaffirm that he wasn't there alone.
But Hermione had her own inner turmoil to deal with. She could picture little Celesca Lovegood as clear as day … this gorgeous, incredible child that she had come to love so much, in such a short space of time … terrified with the most abhorrent fear possible, a fear so potent that it shouldn't be allowed, a sort that Hermione had almost forgotten that the little girl had once suffered from for real, on that first night she'd seen her. Hermione couldn't get the image out of her mind now … just couldn't shake it, however hard she tried.
Hermione suddenly snapped like Harry, crying out in anguished grief as the vision began to consume her … unable to believe how much she ached at it, or the potency of the hatred she felt against the possibility of Celesca ever feeling such a thing again … or of any child ever being exposed to such fear.
And she suddenly understood Harry's tears in the most exacting way … and his transference of his own care for Celesca onto the memory of this random family, that he'd convinced himself that he had failed to save.
But this wasn't his fault … he hadn't hurt anyone. It was the Weasleys. They had done all of this … done it to Harry! He felt this grief because of them! And, Hermione realised with a thrill of horror, they could still do it to him … because the memory of Celesca confessing to Narcissa, about how Ginny and Bellatrix were invading her dreams, was still fresh and raw in Hermione's mind. They must have some sort of link to Celesca's mind, Hermione surmised, that Ginny was still exploiting.
And … if one Weasley could exploit it, could hurt their favourite little Seer … then …"
"Harry! Harry, sort yourself out!" Hermione demanded, ripping herself back with angry purpose. "Celesca is in danger! We have to help her!"
"Cesc? In danger?" Harry riled, primed to fighting form in an instant. "How?"
"Ginny and Bellatrix have been attacking her in her dreams, and we have to stop it … at source," Hermione declared in a vicious battle-cry.
"This is new news to me," Harry quirked, crossly. "Why haven't you told me about this sooner?"
"I suppose it got lost somewhere …. between my European vacation, and trips into your mind … oh, and by going through a complex alchemical marriage with you!" Hermione cried, incredulously.
"That's fair," Harry smirked.
"But this is my priority now," Hermione seethed. "Those evil bitches have been using the link between Draco and his daughter as a conduit … and I'd bet all the gold in our vault that Ginny has put a Weasley tether into Celesca's mind, because they must all know that Draco's days are numbered on account of his failures against us."
"Then we have to butcher Draco and Bellatrix and Ginny," Harry riled. "Good. I've been itching for a mega bloodbath."
"No … no! Killing them alone wont be nearly enough!" Hermione cried, shaking her head angrily. "Celesca is special, possibly far beyond anything we yet understand. Even Narcissa agrees … maybe Riddle himself has an interest in her, that's why he set Ginny to this task … to create a link to Cesc for his study, in case Draco loses his connection when we kill him … because that will take any link Bella has along with it … which just leaves …"
Harry's expression ignited with dark excitement. He looked fit to burst with his sudden eruption of energy and enthusiasm. The heat and intoxicating power coming off him made Hermione want to tear his clothes off with her teeth.
"Ah, I think I see what you mean … if Ginny has created a link to Celesca, it might be like yours …"
"... meaning that any Weasley could utilise it …"
"... and killing Ginny alone wont be enough to keep Cesc safe …"
"... so we have to make it a clean job of it …"
"... remove the possibility of Riddle using the Weasleys to hurt little Cesc …"
"... remove the Weasleys full stop … for all their crimes against us … no matter where, or how, they might try and hide from us."
Harry and Hermione looked fiercely at each other, blazing intent reflecting in the three eyes they shared between them. They didn't need to speak to set the pact … the Blood Feud oath was created the moment their intents matched up in their hearts and minds … which was faster than simultaneous by a matter of degrees.
"That's settled then," Harry nodded as the spell infused them with pulsing intent. "You go to Cesc … I think your very presence might be a barrier against Ginny. Have fun with her, play with her, make her joyous … Death Eaters hate pure happiness, it physically hurts them … it will torture Ginny and Bella and Draco if they try and break into her mind when she's so blissful."
"And what about you? What will you do?" Hermione demanded to know.
"I'm going to get Cissa to tell me where I can find find Draco … then I'm going to bring him here and kill him," Harry growled violently. "And then I'm going to contact Dietmar, wherever he is … get him to bring the Africa Corps of the ZGD up to speed on current events …
"Then he, and you and I, are going to take a little trip to Egypt, find the cowardly Weasleys that are skulking in the backstreet shadows of Cairo there, and give them a better final resting place than those paupers could ever have dreamed of getting … surrounded by royalty, in the Valley of the Kings … under the sort of ancient magic that no-one, especially no pathetic Weasley, could ever hope to break through."
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