Chapter 9: So If You Seek Within Our Doors, A Treasure That Was Never Yours...

A/N: Some cursing and uncomfortable, possibly triggering events throughout. Readers with sensitive stomachs or discomfort with themes such as memory alteration, mind control, and interrogation may want to skip ahead after Leslie takes a Portkey until the meeting with Robards. There will be a summary in the end notes.

X-XXX-X

January 2011

"Salut, 'Arry, 'ow are you?"

He leaned forward, accepting a kiss to both cheeks. "I'm doing well, Fleur, and you?", he replied, stepping through the doorway at Shell Cottage and hanging up his cloak; following his host to the kitchen where a pleasantly bitter aroma of coffee was already emanating from a small percolator near the stove. One flick of her wand later, a larger, milkier cup was before him, while a smaller, darker one settled by her fine-boned hand.

"Un café au lait for you, 'Arry. I think you like your coffee with milk, non?" the pleasant lilt of her accent had softened with her many years in the English countryside, only particularly pronounced when she was excited or thinking hard, but still lingered in her aitches and attitude. She remained profoundly, unmistakeably French; from her sleek silvery-blonde chignon to her slim-cut wool trousers; lounging elegantly in her chair. He smiled gratefully in her direction. It had been a long day, but not long enough for him to choke down the café Fleur was drinking.

"I wanted to get your opinion on the report you sent the Office, about an increase in Muggle money going through Gringotts. Do you think it's coincidence, or something more?"

Fleur frowned, thinking.

"It is not unusual for the amount of Muggle money that enters the bank to fluctuate over the course of the year. This increase is 'abitually more in the July to August period, but I suppose it can 'appen in December or January. Though, the change over the previous January is almost five thousand galleons, which is a lot of money over a one- or two-month period."

"All of it from one or two people?" Harry leaned forward. "Non."

"Oh." He sat back again.

"Oui, that is why I am not sure whether it is worrisome or not. It is many different Muggles, not a group, and they do not make more than a few transactions, of maybe a 'undred galleons each at the most. 'Owever, maybe that is something strange after all. It seems to me zat – that – there are more Muggles coming to Gringotts than 'abitual. Ah, pardon, usual."

"Gringotts still checks for enchantments when someone enters, right? At least, they do for me whenever I go…"

"Non. At least, not in the entrance all the time. There is the check before you go to the cart for the vaults, naturally. And there are still the random checks that happen sometimes as you enter, but not everyone and all the time. You are special." She winked at him.

"And who could we speak to about changing or upping protections on the bank while we figure out what's going on?"

"Ragnok. He oversees Security for Gringotts, but he is not over-fond of wizards, 'Arry, and after your escapade during the Second Wizarding War…"

"He wouldn't tolerate my interference, I get that. I'm pretty sure all the Probity Probes I've endured over the last decade and a half are thanks to him, aren't they? Ginny usually handles Gringotts for us because of how long it takes if I'm the one fetching money!"

"Perhaps." She laughed. "The goblins, they do not like to be made fools. They like having to let a thief go without punishment even less. And to do so at the behest of wizards – that they like least of all. All the gold you have paid as reparations – that is not punishment to a goblin."

"Well," said Harry, dispensing of the goblins and going back to the task at hand, "could you set up a meeting with Ragnok and someone in the Auror Office… maybe Maisy Reynolds, she speaks a fair bit of Gobbledygook, probably the most fluent of the lot. Should help smooth over some ruffled feathers. I really think we need to up some of the security around Gringotts again, at least until we can figure out if there's something dodgy with the number of Muggles coming in."

"D'accord. I can let you know tomorrow if Ragnok will agree. You are coming to the dinner at the Burrow, non? Then I will tell you there."

X-XXX-X

"Reynolds. Floor is yours. Please brief me on your meeting with Gringotts Security."

"Thank you, Auror Robards. I met with Ragnok, Head Security Goblin, yesterday in his chambers to discuss the increase in Muggle money moving through Gringotts. Though initially reluctant to allow us to interfere in what he calls goblin matters, he agreed that it merits looking into. Gringotts will be increasing checks for enchantments of any kind, not just concealment, particularly at the exchanges counter, and we have set up an Emergency Summons, with a Gobbledygook key-phrase, that Pritchard, myself, Leslie, and Rose," she nodded towards the other three Aurors in the room, "will be monitoring in shifts at all times. All suspicious individuals will be detained by the security goblins until we can get there and bring them in for questioning."

"What checks are the goblins proposing? We will require something discreet so as to not show our hand too plainly. Has the Muggle money been checked for spells?"

"I was hoping for the Thief's Downfall, but the goblins appear reluctant to use such a powerful – and expensive – potion willy-nilly. For the moment, they have acquiesced only to the use of Secrecy Sensors, and other Probity Probes of all kinds. They have also provided us with a Portkey that will allow us to enter directly into an antechamber off the main Gringotts hall, which they can activate at their discretion. As for the Muggle money itself, it's clean. No spells of any kind, and it is not counterfeit, near as they can tell – and I would believe the goblins on that one."

X-XXX-X

"Look alive, Leslie!" Pritchard rounded the corner to her little cubbyhole, his brusque voice sharper than ever. He held a glowing disc in his hand, one that was emitting a steady stream of incomprehensible, guttural sound.

She sprang to her feet at the sight.

"Portkey will depart in one minute." He told her, answering her unspoken question by translating the speech they could both hear to English. "What in Merlin's name are you doing?" he bit out impatiently, watching her as she scribbled a note instead of rushing to touch the Portkey.

"Sending Thistlethwaite a memo to prep us a Muggle-friendly Interrogation Room – it'll save us the Patronus later." She raised an eyebrow at him.

He nodded in terse apology, shifting into a battle stance Leslie privately thought overkill for the mission ahead. She finished writing, the memo folding itself into a paper bird with a flick of her wand before setting off to its destination with a decisive wave. She stepped next to him then, reaching out her hand to touch the disc. Its speech was growing more urgent by the second.

There was a flash of blue light, and they were both gone.

X-XXX-X

"Ennervate."

"What- where am I? Who are you people?" the man across the table started awake, eyes wild. Fear crept into his eyes as the confusion slowly receded and he realised his feet were bound to the chair.

"What is your name?" Pritchard leaned forward.

"Who are you? Why do you want to know? Why have you brought me here? I'm just a waiter, man. I don't have anything worth robbing. Certainly not worth kidnapping me for, I promise." The man's voice was trembling, reedy and high. Sweat beaded across his forehead, dripping into his bushy brows. He raised a hand to wipe his brow, compulsively clutching at his hair. Tears were beginning to pool in his eyes.

"Sir, we really do need a name." Leslie cut in, sensing perhaps that Pritchard's intensity was scaring the poor man. She touched Pritchard's arm, lightly, and he sat back, silently letting her take over. A brilliant dueller, but Rowena, did his interrogative capability leave much to be desired with anyone but the most coarsened of criminals.

The terrified Muggle turned in her direction. "James Aberdeen. Look, I think you've got the wrong guy. I swear, just let me go and I won't tell anyone about you both." He passed a tongue over his dry lips, and Leslie immediately pulled out a wand and conjured a glass of water.

Before she could proffer it to him however, the bloke shrieked, clearly at the end of his tether, scrambling back in his chair as far as the restraints would let him.

"What the fuck? What! How?! What the fuck was that? Are you fucking aliens? Is this a fucking alien spaceship? Oh God, please save me, what the fuck is going on?" he was crying in earnest now, big fat tears mingling with snot and dripping down his face as he furiously scrubbed at his skin.

"Sir, please relax, it's just magic, just like what your child? Brother? Sister? Whoever it is that goes to Hogwarts, can do. Just a simple spell, regular drinking water, it's perfectly safe!" Leslie tried to reassure the man, tried to be heard over his wails. She shot a quick, desperate look at a grim-faced Pritchard. Quick as lightening, his wand snapped out, and knocked the man unconscious once more.

"What the fuck is going on?" Leslie turned to Graham Pritchard, whose intelligent, dark eyes seemed to have grasped what the problem was.

"The man's hysterical, doesn't seem to recognise magic. The goblins did say he was Confunded, but that's been removed, and, besides, it wouldn't make him forget the Wizarding World. They didn't pick up on an Imperius, either, so we can't know the extent that he's being controlled. I don't like this, Leslie. I don't think he has a Wizarding relative. If all of the others who came in to Gringotts before this were the same… We've got a major Statute of Secrecy breach on our hands, or someone's doling out Obliviations willy-nilly amongst the Muggle population. We need a Calming Draught, need to know what's happened. And an Obliviator on call for when we're done. Thistlethwaite!" he called, suddenly, raising his voice, looking over to the charmed wall behind which the Auror-Trainee sat.

The door opened, and an apple cheeked, mousy haired girl walked in.

"You heard? Keep an eye on him until we're back. We need to talk to Robards."

X-XXX-X

"Let's try this again." Pritchard sighed. "I think you should handle the questioning. He seems to take it better from you." He twirled his wand in the man's general direction, vanishing the binds around his ankles and arranging him in a more comfortable position in his chair.

He then nodded at Leslie, who pursed her mouth at him in a "well, what can you do" kind of way before gently administering a hefty dose of high-strength Calming Draught, using her wand to help the still unconscious man swallow.

"Ennervate." Just like last time, Pritchard brought James Aberdeen, Potential Statute-Breaking Problem, back to consciousness. The man stirred instead of starting, taking a few minutes to sit up straight, and rubbing his lids. His eyes seemed clouded and hazy once open, a film of magically induced placidity coating his irises like a film.

"Hello, Mr. Aberdeen. Do you remember us?"

The man blinked slowly. "I rememb'r you." His voice was slurred slightly, but he seemed to grow more lucid as he spoke. "In this room. Some time ago. You brought me here. I don't remember how, though."

"What is the last thing you can remember before you met us?"

Aberdeen frowned, clearly trying to make sense of his muddled thoughts. His casualness was all wrong, Leslie thought, it made her skin crawl to watch. Magic was so often a slippery slope and it bothered her to use it against someone who couldn't fight back, who didn't know what was happening to him. Sure, the lack of terror was probably better for his heart, but it was eerily manipulative, skirting too close to the kind of activity that would get you hauled up in front of the Improper Magic on Muggles office if you weren't a Ministry employee, for her comfort.

"Why are you asking me? Who are you?" he replied, slowly.

"My name is… Detective Inspector Leslie Creevey. This is my colleague, Graham Pritchard." She flashed him a badge hastily conjured non-verbally under the table and prayed he wouldn't look too closely when under the influence of multiple Stupefys and the strongest Calming Draught in the Potions Stockroom. "We brought you in because you triggered some… suspicious activity alarms, and we believe you may have knowledge of a crime. We'd just like to know about your day, Mr. Aberdeen. Please. You have my word that we'll escort you back home after you talk to us. You're not being charged with anything."

Aberdeen looked at her for a long moment. Then shrugged, passing a hand over his brow, looing away. "Don't remember much. But you're welcome to it. I remember… a building. A hall. Looked expensive, all marble everywhere. I went up to this tiny fella… kinda funny looking, though that doesn't seem nice to say. I wanted to… I wanted to exchange money, didn't I?" His voice turned a bit dreamy as he spoke. "Another tiny little guy came up to me, waving this antenna looking thing around, and it sparked or something and he grabbed me and then I don't remember any more. Why don't I remember? And where's the little guy? I want to exchange money." He sounded almost childlike the more he went on, and Leslie repressed a shudder. What was this? It was stronger, creepier, different to a regular Confundus, which responded to a Finite well enough and should've been removed the second the Goblins grabbed him.

"Why did you want to exchange money, James?" she pressed. Aberdeen looked at her, but now his eyes were blank and unseeing. "I don't… I don't… I wanted to exchange money. Where's my money?" he looked vaguely off to the side, tilting his head slightly like a child. "I just have to give you the paper money, and you'll give me the coins, yes? But no, you're not the small fella. Could you get the small fella for me?"

"James, do you not remember?"

"No, but I know, exchanging money, I want to exchange the paper money for the money you have here."

"James, would it be okay if I were to help you remember?" Leslie sounded a little sad. She took out her wand, held under the table, whispered a stronger counter-curse to whatever was clearly controlling him, designed to negate the effects of the strongest of spells or Potions. It seemed to take a few minutes to seep into James's consciousness, but once it did, a shadow passed over his eyes despite the effect of the Calming Draught, still going strong.

"I just remember waking up in the morning. Went to this broken-down shop on Charing Cross, but then there was a pub? And then a street? And I went to this marble building, and I went in, and I had a bag with me, and it had… blimey, nearly two thousand quid in there. And then… well… you know the rest. But I don't know why. It just felt like a good idea, at the time." His voice was tired.

"Where did you get the money from, James? The two thousand quid? Was it yours?" Leslie pressed.

"I don't… I don't remember. Why don't I remember?" He sounded scared, and small, the tiniest wisps of fear colouring his voice despite the Potion he'd ingested.

"I think you might have lost your memory, James. Can we get you a Heal- Doctor, who can take a look at you? Pritchard will go and get him right now." Her eyes when she turned to Pritchard shone, for one brief moment, with tears; but she blinked, and they were gone. She looked back at James, smiled kindly, speaking in the same slow, careful tone as earlier. "Why don't you tell me about your job, James, until Pritchard gets back?"

X-XXX-X

"Hi, love. Got your Patronus, decided to get a head start on dinner. Busy day?" Dennis looked up from the bubbling pot of stew on the stove to make eye-contact with his tired wife as she entered the kitchen, collapsing at the island with her head in her hands.

"Just – been a real cock up of a day. Gringotts case, you must've heard? Pritchard and I were in the office when the summons went off, so we went in. A Muggle set off the Probity Probe, so they detained him with far more force than necessary, if you ask me. The goblins had tied up the poor man, knocked him unconscious. We collected him, took him back to the interrogation rooms." She stopped then, staring at the wall opposite.

"What's wrong?" Dennis stated more than asked, watching her carefully. He went over to her, put his hand over hers. And then he waited.

"It's just… he didn't know about magic, Den. He was being controlled… but we can't figure out how. Wasn't the Imperius, but there's a plethora of Dark spells out there, aren't there, and it's not like we have a repository of them all. Savage thinks it might be a mind-control potion of some sort, but she always thinks it's a potion. Robards reckons it might've been a combination of spells. But the point remains that someone coerced him, somehow, into going to Gringotts to exchange Muggle money for Galleons, someone who Obliviated him and Confunded him for good measure, so we couldn't extract much usable memory without leaving him a shell of a human being, and we still can't just Obliviate him all over again and let him go his own way, we need to use him to find the person who did this, and it's just… utter bollocks. And the thing that's really fucking with me is that there must've been so many of them, Den. So many Muggles out there who've had a day of their lives stolen from under them, become an accomplice to a crime in a world they don't know exist. It's not fair, enchanting them like this. Pritchard and I had to do it today to the poor man, knock him out with a Stupefy and force-feed him a Calming Draught; and it just makes me feel dirty."

She sighed in a rather forlorn manner, looking over at Dennis. He looked back at her, and then wordlessly folded her against his chest in a hug.

X-XXX-X

"Give me something usable, Reynolds." There was a controlled frustration in Robards's voice, so unusual for the normally unflappable man that the team shot each other quick glances. The enhanced checks at Gringotts had caught two more Muggles over the past fortnight, both unaware of the existence of the Wizarding World even as they stood in line to obtain its currency.

Maisy cleared her throat. "The goblins have twigged that this is a serious matter that they can't resolve on their own, at least. They're being far more cooperative than expected. Ragnok has put me in touch with their Muggle-facing team, headed by Declan Haworth. Declan will be investigating on their end to see if they can find where the Muggle money is coming from. On our end, we've been working with the Obliviator Squad to piece together memory fragments obtained from the Muggle victims. We hope to deduce our perp's MO and use it to track him – or her – down. All victims so far are under surveillance, but we'll have to prioritise eventually – we're stretched thin as it is."

"Pull all available trainees and juniors to help with surveillance. What about tracking the funds – any progress?"

"According to the goblins, enchanting the galleons will be tricky because we don't want our perp picking up on the magic traces, so very few charms will work. Tracking charms are out of the question—"

"Because they will emit magic constantly, yes, I know that, Reynolds," interrupted Robards impatiently. "However, is there something that can be done?"

"For one, we have the serial numbers of every galleon handed over, so we can track where, when and how they come back into circulation. A small number of galleons in each pouch – just enough that they don't set off any alarms - have also been enchanted with the ability to capture the magical signature of the first person to touch it. A sort of flesh memory, I reckon is the closest way to explain it."

"And once we have the signature, that's airtight evidence. But that won't bring us any closer to our perp, so surveillance is still top priority. He's the most vulnerable when going back to his victims to collect his loot."

X-XXX-X

February 2011

"Hey, Harry, Robards is looking for you." Cornhill poked her head into Harry's office, a perk accorded to all Senior-Aurors.

"On it, thanks!" he replied, making his way to his boss's office.

"You wanted to see me, sir?"

"Body found at the Zabini Manor. Positively identified as Lucrezia Zabini, by her son Blaise. Auror Office got word from his wife, Daphne, who sent us a missive via their family elf. The Zabinis are extremely well-connected, as you know, and she's raised enough of a bother in just one letter that this case will have to be accorded a higher priority than usual. However, since the Gringotts case has roped in so many Aurors, I can't spare more than one or two on this… I am making this your problem, now, Potter. Your presence ought to be enough to ascertain that 'the Ministry is making every effort to apprehend the one who has committed this horrible crime.'" He finished by sarcastically quoting from the letter tucked within the sparse file on his table.

Harry unenthusiastically took the file handed to him.

"She was the one with the seven dead husbands, wasn't she? Maybe husband number eight did her in for a change?"

"A reasonable hypothesis. I look forward to hearing what you find out." Robards leant back with a smile twitching at the very corner of his usually stoic lips.

X-XXX-X

A/N: Summary of possibly triggering events: Leslie and Pritchard collect the Muggle and interrogate him. He is found to be terrified, confused and unaware of the magical world at all. They determine that he was controlled in some fashion (though the exact method is unknown, it is not just a simple Imperius) and his memory has been tampered with/erased. Leslie, when recounting this to Dennis, expresses how uncomfortable the idea of feeding a Muggle potions (such as a Calming Drought) makes her, because it erases their autonomy and they are not able to consent to something like this.

Hooray for casework! It's taken us only eight chapters to get to this point. This chapter fought me tooth and nail, though. I am not a seasoned mystery writer, so updates from this point on will unfortunately slow to every two weeks at the earliest since I have now posted my repository of previously written chapters and am now writing and posting simultaneously.

I know, naming Ms. Zabini Lucrezia was hardly subtle, but... according to the internet, her last name is Italian, and my personal assumption is that the lady just kept her maiden name throughout. She'd have quite the identity crisis otherwise, wouldn't she?

Thoughts, comments, criticisms – all are welcome :) Please do let me know what you think!