Disclaimer: A desire not to butt into Harry Potter's business is about eighty percent of all JK Rowling's wisdom…and the other twenty percent isn't all that important.

A/N: Thanks to amirlb for their new fanart for the Arithmancer-Verse. You can see it on their Twitter feed, AmirLivneBaron.

Again, I'm sorry it's been so long. I actually got most of the way through this chapter, but the last scene gave me a lot of trouble. Then, I've been travelling a lot lately, and it's really cut into my writing time. And sadly, that will probably continue through the summer because I'll be moving and starting a new job. One of these days I'll actually get back to regular updates, but I don't think I can in good conscience make any promises until September.


Chapter 16: Gringotts

"Pneumonia. Can you believe it?" Sirius said as he lounged on a sofa in Grimmauld Place.

"Um, no, actually," Harry replied. "I thought wizards didn't get pneumonia."

"Oh, we do. We get colds, and it's basically the same as a really bad chest cold."

"It's really not," Emma told him.

"Well, magic says it is." He half-coughed, half-sneezed. "Ugh. I miss being eighteen and invincible."

Victoria McKinnon brought in a pot of herbal tea and set it on the coffee table, then sat across from Sirius. "Don't worry about Sirius," she said. "We can treat pneumonia the same as a cold. It just takes a more specific regimen of potions, so he'll be stuck at home for a few days."

Sirius had visited St. Mungo's, but had been sent home with some potions, which was apparently standard for this kind of thing in the magical world. Now, his girlfriend was taking care of him while the rest of the Order handled their current planning.

"Yeah, I should be fine by the time we go ahead with the plan," he agreed. "Is that still happening?"

"Yes, the plan's still on," said Harry. "Dumbledore's going to start it right after Easter."

"Well, at least I should be able to help by then," Sirius said.

Vicky glared at him: "I'll be the judge of that, Sirius."

"Hey, I have to help with something like this, Vicky. This is gonna be big. Probably one of the biggest operations of the war."

"An operation you can't tell me about," she said.

"I'm sorry, but it's really important. Even some of the people who'll be in it don't know the full story."

Vicky frowned. She understood the need for secrecy, and she wasn't in the middle of the Order so much, but the Order was usually more open about those sorts of things. She sighed: "I get that it's important, but I want you to be at your best for this. And hey, if you're not recovered by then, I can go help them."

"No!" he shouted. "I mean—I don't know, Vicky. It'll be dangerous."

"I've been practising."

"Really dangerous," Sirius insisted. "We're—hell, I shouldn't even be telling you this. We're expecting You-Know-Who himself to show up."

She paled a fraction, but she held firm: "Still, all the more reason you shouldn't go unless you're fully recovered. The others need to know that they can rely on you…And also, are you crazy?"

"There's a lot we can't tell you," Emma cut in, "but we're making a play that can only really be done in a way that gets Voldemort's attention."

Vicky shook her head: "That sounds suicidal. How is that supposed to work."

"Well," Harry said, "we're hoping he doesn't show up right away. Dumbledore's going to—" Set the bait, he thought. "—lay the groundwork to manoeuvre Voldemort the way we want…"


The day after Easter, Albus Dumbledore made a public trip to Gringotts. It was time for a very unusual meeting with the goblins—a meeting that most other wizards would not have been able to pull off and remain in one piece.

"Please inform President Ragnok," he told the head teller, "that Albus Dumbledore wishes to see him at his earliest convenience on a matter of private business."

The head teller nodded and sent him over to a waiting area. He sat down and took out a rather thick book to read. He knew that even for him, Ragnok would make him wait a while without an appointment. The trick was to show the goblins that they weren't getting to you. If they thought you could outlast them, they'd give up and call you in, even if you were bluffing. For Dumbledore, he had a bit more slack than most wizards, so it wasn't terribly long before he was called back.

The guards led him to a private meeting room in the back of the bank, where he placed his wand (not the Elder Wand, just in case) in a locked box (not that it would help them) before sitting down across from a particularly large and menacing-looking goblin: Ragnok, the President of Gringotts bank and de facto leader of the all the goblins of Great Britain.

As usual, Ragnok skipped the passive-aggressive greetings and asked, "Alright, we're here, Dumbledore. What did you need to talk to me about so urgently?"

Dumbledore smiled. "I have come, President Ragnok," he said, "to request for you to search one of your clients' vaults for contraband and to hand over any you find to the Ministry. You will, naturally, refuse, as is expected and appropriate. I will harangue you about it for a time, but you will remain resolute, and you will send me away disappointed and empty-handed despite the obvious import of my errand."

Ragnok blinked a couple times, staring at him. "What the blazes are you talking about? This is a strange conversation even for you. Search for contraband—are you suggesting that there is contraband stored in my bank, Dumbledore?"

"Under Ministry law, I'm sure there is a great deal of it, but I wasn't aware Gringotts had a schedule of contraband beyond that which would compromise the security or integrity of the bank. As it is, I do not know whether the item I seek is here or not. I merely need to show that I am investigating thoroughly."

"An investigation you know full well isn't going to happen. We have standards here. I ought to have you thrown out as it is. Why are you even telling me this if you don't want to do these things? Search our vaults and challenge our security, indeed!"

"Because, my dear Ragnok, I have no intention of riffling through any of your vaults. If you were to have a sudden change of heart on the matter, I would not, of course, refuse, but it is irrelevant to my current plans."

"Oh, really? And what are those plans?"

"Nothing that will concern Gringotts. Barring extraordinary circumstances, you will continue to experience business as usual."

Ragnok snorted. "So all of this is just posturing for some foolish wizard reason?" he said. "I ought to charge you extra for wasting my time."

"Which I am happy to pay," Dumbledore said lightly. "But there is some purpose to my visit because you are getting useful information—for example, that there may be trouble in the Alley in the near future. Nothing that should cross your threshold, but you may want to have additional guards on standby."

"Already done, although the fact that you thought it worth telling us is worrying enough."

"It is as it is," he replied. "But there is one other important thing you should know, Ragnok…You may in the near future hear a rumour that I mean to rob you. I assure you that nothing could be further from the truth. I have no interest in anything but maintaining good relations with the Goblin Nation—and my usual business, of course. It is merely to my advantage for Lord Voldemort to wonder if I would dare try it."

Ragnok narrowed his eyes and snarled softly. "What's your game, Dumbledore?" he said. "You can't steal the thing yourself, so you're trying to get Voldemort to steal it for you?"

Dumbledore's voice was hard: "Certainly not. I would never stoop so low, nor willingly subject you and your people to such danger. Voldemort would not need to steal the item, if it is here, nor would he have any reason to set foot within these walls regardless."

Ragnok was quick on the uptake, though: "No, you're just trying to scare him into moving it. By calling the security of Gringotts into question."

"That is not a crime, even here," he replied. "But in fact, I am playing to Voldemort's paranoia. He already knows that your security is not inviolable, as we discussed four years ago,yet he has no more incentive to make the present affair public than we do."

"Than you do," Ragnok said without missing a beat.

Dumbledore didn't take the bait. "Than we do. This is, after all, a private business meeting protected by Gringotts' notorious integrity." Indeed, he had already given away more information than he would like, but the goblins took their confidentiality very seriously, at least when it came to keeping it from other wizards.

"Ahh…Well played, Dumbledore," Ragnok conceded. "Very well. You've put on you show and passed along your warning. But we will be vigilant for anyone who would seek to rob us, as always."

"I would expect nothing less, Ragnok. Thank you for your time."

"Thank me by paying me, you old coot."


Draco's Easter holidays were…tense. It seemed like his whole life was tense lately and getting tenser. Part of him wanted to stay at school, where things were simpler, but Mother wanted him to come home, and he knew he needed to talk to her. In fact, he needed to talk to both his parents. He'd been coming to a decision by degrees all term, but he still worried he was going mad for it. There was one more conversation he needed to have before he could be sure—probably the most dangerous one yet.

"Father?" he said at supper on Tuesday night.

"Yes, Draco?"

"Why did you join the Dark Lord in the first place?"

Father froze and looked Draco in the eye. Draco stared back as confidently as he could, using his Occlumency, just in case. "What brought this on, son?" Father asked. There was already an edge to his voice. Not a good sign.

"I've learnt a lot about our recent history in the werewolf's class," Draco replied. "His sources appear less biased than he is. But one thing I'm still trying to understand is the Dark Lord's initial rise. How did he become so powerful—I suppose I should say influential—early on, when so much other Knockturn Alley chatter doesn't. What persuaded you?"

"Me?" Father said in surprise. "My father persuaded me, of course. You forget that the Dark Lord's rise began before my time, not just yours. But the rest is no great mystery. The Dark Lord possessed great power and talent in his youth, in addition to his charisma. He led by example and showed he could succeed where others were all talk. And according to my father, his began doing so when he was still in school."

So Father was only following in his father's footsteps. It was as Draco had feared. "So Grandfather Abraxas heard him saying he wanted to get rid of the muggle-borns and such, and he thought the Dark Lord could actually do it?" he asked.

"Yes, simply put."

"So then…" He took a deep breath. He'd thought long and hard about how to ask this question. "Why did Grandfather think that was the best way to do it, instead of following the Malfoy tradition?"

Father's eyes narrowed. "The Malfoy tradition?" he said.

"You know, Father: being the power behind the Ministry. I don't mean to diminish the Dark Lord's power—" Maybe, he thought. "—but I'm trying to understand from the perspective of a young Lord Malfoy who was just starting out and was even working with Dumbledore against Grindelwald. He sees the future Dark Lord gathering followers and proving himself a once-in-a-generation talent. He would certainly be a valuable resource to cultivate, but to follow? Not knowing what he would become, I mean?"

Lucius's face grew hard. "Draco, you should be very careful what you say about this matter. The Dark Lord does not take kindly to questions about his power."

"His power's obvious now, Father," he said quickly. "I definitely don't dispute that. But the fact is, there have been a lot of dark lords in history, and none of them have become Minister for Magic. Only a couple have become Chief Warlock. And meanwhile, the House of Malfoy has always done better by exercising our influence in politics. What made the Dark Lord different from the others in Grandfather Abraxas's eyes? What made him worth changing all that?"

"That's enough!" Lucius snapped.

"Lucius!" Mother jumped in for the first time.

He clenched his left hand reflexively, then released it. "You are still very young, Draco, and you know nothing of politics as it is truly played. Haven't you seen that despite the House of Malfoy's influence, the mudbloods have only gained in power over time? You should know better by now not to ask imprudent questions about he Dark Lord. He is very powerful, and he made your grandfather see that, even at the beginning. There was little choice but to join him."

Draco noted the choice of words. Little choice. That was always what it seemed to come down to. "Even so, Father, others bided their time," he insisted. "And—" He caught himself from saying what he wanted to say. You took a path instead that nearly ruined us after the last war. "They've done better than we have since the last war. What would our ancestors in the Malfoy line say about that?"

"Silence, you foolish child!" he hissed, standing and drawing his wand this time. Draco stood too, in case he needed to get away. "You have no right to ask such questions of your father and lord! If I have to discipline you like I did when you were younger—"

Mother stepped in front of him just before he raised his wand to Draco. "Draco is the future Lord Malfoy!" she shouted over him. "He does have that right." There was a beat of silence as both men stared at her. "Draco carries the interests of this family as much as you do, Lucius, and he is half a Black, what little that name means now. I am proud that he is finally showing the shrewdness due his rank. He deserves a full explanation of our position."

Lucius took a step back and sheathed his wand. "Of course, the Black blood still runs true in your veins, Narcissa," he said. She glared at him, and he could tell flattery would get him nowhere, but he held his ground: "Our son needs to learn not to ask questions that might call his loyalty into question, however 'shrewd,' before he says them to someone who won't overlook them. The time between the wars was but a temporary setback—for us and for the Dark Lord. I have every confidence that this Dark Lord is different from all the others. But as it is—" He angrily drew back his sleeve, showing the Dark Mark. Draco had to make an effort not to flinch. "I do not have a choice. The Dark Lord does not give the luxury of a choice—not to us, not to the Greengrasses, not to anyone once he has the reach to pursue them."


And that was Lucius's final word—and it had to be. He had the Dark Mark, and there was no going back from that no matter how good or bad it was for the family. The Dark Lord treated no one more harshly than a traitor. And that, perhaps fittingly, was what cemented Draco's decision.

He didn't have a chance to tell Mother until Thursday, when Lucius was called away for an urgent (and unscheduled) Death Eater meeting. "I've made my decision, Mother," he said, trying to keep his voice from quavering. "This war isn't going to work."

To her credit, she didn't react with surprise. She remained stoic and nodded, then cast some privacy charms around them. "You don't believe the Death Eaters can succeed," she said. Even now, she avoided saying it of the Dark Lord himself.

"No, I don't think so," Draco agreed. "This isn't like the last war, where if we could have manoeuvred the pieces on the board just right, the Dark Lord could have taken over the Ministry and consolidated his power there."

"He's closer to taking over the Ministry this time, Draco," she warned.

"I know. But this time, the ICW's involved already. That was Grindelwald's problem. He didn't have enough followers and resources to stand up to the full ICW. Grayson says he only hung on so long because no one but Dumbledore was strong enough to challenge him personally. I'm not sure I believe that, but it's pretty clear he was on the back foot once the Allied offensive began. And people say toward the end of the war, he was looking for something that would turn the tide, like an army of Inferi, or something."

"Really? I hadn't heard of that," Mother said.

He shrugged. "That's mostly coming from Dumbledore, I guess, but I'd believe it. It makes enough sense. I'm sorry, but looking at the board now, I don't think we can win this."

She placed a hand comfortingly on his shoulder. "You shouldn't apologise, my son. You've studied the situation carefully and come to the best conclusion you could. You haven't made any foolish blunders. You should be willing to stand by it."

"Except for the part where it could get us all killed," he said dryly.

At that, he saw a twinge of fear cross her face. "Even so, we must consider all our options. Your father's will isn't truly his own anymore. We both know it. And if you believe his course of action will harm the family—"

"Definitely," he said. "I can maybe understand why Grandfather Abraxas made the choice he did. In the aftermath of Grindelwald's War, it might have seemed sensible. But look where it got us. We were nearly ruined after the last war. If things had gone a little differently…" He didn't dare speak that bit, but Mother knew. If Father's influence hadn't reached so far, the last of the Malfoys could have been raised by her muggle-loving sister. Or worse, killed in a cross-fire, though that was probably unlikely. "And Father spent most of his political capital in that mess. The House of Malfoy hasn't been this on the outs in a long time, and he lost face with the Dark Lord, besides. Throwing in with the losing side again ends with us dead or in prison, whoever wins. We can't afford that."

"Then what are you going to do, Draco?" she asked nervously.

"I don't know for sure, Mother, but I'm sure as hell not going to do it from Britain."

Suddenly, there was a ding, and Mother hastily took down the spells. Lucius had returned early. A minute later, he came in, looking pale and worried.

"Narcissa, the Dark Lord is asking for you," he reported. "Something to do with your sister."


For the first time in fourteen years, Bellatrix Lestrange walked openly down Diagon Alley. After so long, and with such a price on her head, it was a surreal experience—doubly so because she didn't feel much like herself just now.

Dear Cissy had been very nervous when the Dark Lord called her in. When she found out they wanted to know how they could get Bellatrix into Gringotts without calling every Auror in London down on her head, she looked visibly relieved, the coward.

It was a thorny problem. Polyjuice was her first instinct. Goblins didn't regularly check for Polyjuice, but it wouldn't do for her to ask for a vault that didn't match her face, and they wouldn't appreciate a disguise being revealed inside their doors. Which hardly even mattered because she could be spotted by a wizard in the bank when she revealed her true identity. Having her dress up like a hag with a robe that concealed her face might work, but it was risky. Between random checks of hooded figures in the street and a teller blithely calling out her name, she could easily be caught out. The risk of a teller calling her name probably couldn't be eliminated, in fact.

Using a disguise anyway and using an Imperius Curse on the teller might work, but it could still be detected, and depending how paranoid the goblins were, she had to admit she might not be fast enough with it. The Dark Lord began speculating on whether Cissy could escort her in some way, but he hadn't finished fleshing out the idea when Cissy hurriedly came up with one of her own—an idea that Bellatrix had first thought was stupid, but it actually seemed to be working now.

When was a disguise not a disguise? When your real face was disguise enough.

It wasn't easy. Still, with some magical makeup work by Cissy, colouring her raven hair mousy brown, changing her wardrobe, and (Cissy said this was the crucial part) teaching her "to smile and be friendly to passers-by and walk like you're not on your way to murder someone," she looked like a picture-perfect image of their blood traitor sister, Andromeda.

"Good morning," she greeted old Tom in the Leaky Cauldron in Andromeda's chipper voice. Tom waved back at her like nothing was amiss. Scum, she thought. Come on, she could do this. It was just a little way down Diagon Alley to Gringotts. Even if she did have to smile and wave at the insipid cretins who infested the place. Mudbloods, even!

She'd needed to cast a Cheering Charm on herself to get the smile right. When she tried to do it on her own, Cissy had winced and said, "No, Bella. That smile says, 'I will end you and all you love.'" The walk Cissy had told her to do felt almost like she was skipping. She suspected that Andromeda had deliberately made herself more girlish in order to distinguish the two of them, but now, it was working in her favour. She walked down the Alley in broad daylight, and no one batted an eye. It made sense, she reflected. When they were younger, they had been taken for twins a few times when Andromeda decided to colour her hair black. Bellatrix had got annoyed with it enough to put a stop to it soon after.

She was sure that even with the hair and makeup, if she resumed her usual demeanour, it would set people running in a heartbeat, but it was working. She might even say it was fun, in a way.

Not everyone smiled and waved back. Her careful watch detected a number of people scattered throughout the Alley who looked tense, with shifty eyes—and not just Aurors, either. That didn't surprise her. At least some of them would be undercover Death Eaters, sent to watch the situation because the Dark Lord suspected Dumbledore would try to make a move at this time. She noted their locations and continued on. She entered Gringotts without incident and went up to the head teller. No need to deal with extra layers. The goblin peered down at her suspiciously and raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to speak.

"I have need to access my vault," she said. She slid the vault number across to him. "Quietly."

The goblin looked at the number, scrutinised her face, checked the number against a book, studied her face again. She shifted to her usual hostile expression. His eyes widened. Another quick glance at the book, and she was just at the point of trying an Imperius curse on him when he said, "Of course. Please follow me, Madam."

She smiled again. Easy as pie.


Minerva McGonagall sat at a small cafe table in Diagon Alley, watching the passers-by. It had been a long week, with the Order watching the Alley in shifts, hoping to spot Bellatrix or Voldemort or someone going in to Gringotts to get the horcrux. She'd taken quite a few of those shifts this week since she'd need to be back at Hogwarts next week. The Alley was wet this morning; it had rained all last night, and it was a typical London overcast now, adding to the dreariness of the situation.

She'd considered wandering among the crowd, but she'd decided that she was more likely to miss someone that way than watching from the side. So far, no one. Severus had said that Voldemort was asking around about Gringotts, but was keep it close to the vest, which was a sign they were on the right track. So far, he hadn't made a move, though, and they were running out of time before classes started again.

Suddenly, a woman who looked like she might be a Spaniard flopped down in the seat next to Minerva. Her face wasn't familiar, but she spoke in the voice of Nymphadora Tonks.

"Morning, Professor," she said conspiratorially. "I think I saw her."

Minerva turned and looked at Tonks enquiringly.

"Bellatrix. See, I was walking down the street, and I saw my mum…except it wasn't my mum, you know what I mean?"

"Meow?" said Minerva, giving her a stern look.

Tonks looked the cat up and down. "Okay, sorry," she said, "but I mean it. It looked like someone tried to Polyjuice as Mum. She didn't walk quite naturally, and her face didn't look quite right—like she was wearing more makeup than usual. You know I pay close attention to this stuff."

"Meow."

"I don't think it was Polyjuice, though. That wouldn't make sense. You know how much Bellatrix and my mum look alike, right? I think Aunt Bella could pass for Mum long enough to get in and out of Gringotts. You think we should tell Dumbledore?"

Minerva nodded. She trusted Tonks's instincts about her family. She jumped down off the table and ran off to a secluded alcove where she could transform back to human, then sent off a Patronus message to Albus. He would get everyone organised.

She kept a mental tally of how long she estimated it would take Bellatrix to ride the carts down to the deepest levels of Gringotts, pacify the dragon, grab the item from her vault, ride back up and leave the bank. They'd have to move fast when she left. She wouldn't have to be as inconspicuous as when she came in, and she could Apparate away right away.

Albus arrived shortly, though he was also keeping to the shadows and away from the curious gazes of shoppers. Minerva couldn't remember the last time she'd seen him in dark, subdued colours. He quickly met them to hear their report.

"I'm tellin' you, it was Aunt Bellatrix dressed up like Mum," Tonks insisted. "If it turns out it really is Mum, I'll wanna check her for Imperius, 'cause she didn't look right. Bellatrix looks enough like her to pull it off with makeup. I doubt anyone but family would've noticed."

"I believe you, Miss Tonks," Albus said. "It is an ingenious plan. I have already moved our people into position. I will also cast an Anti-Apparition Ward, but it will not hold long should Voldemort himself make an appearance, so we must move fast when she emerges. How many Death Eaters are currently in the Alley?"

"I counted four for sure, so there;s probably at least six," Tonks said. "We've got our work cut out for us."

"I agree, Albus," said Minerva. "This isn't going to be easy—stealing something off of Bellatrix Lestrange."

"Our best chance is now, when she is not being protected so closely," Albus said.

He was right, of course, but she still didn't care for this plan. She didn't know who would be joining them, either, given the shifts. Kingsley and Hestia Jones, for sure. And she knew Albus had Harry waiting in the wings, however much she disagreed with that.

The Death Eaters had probably noticed the Order Members, if Tonks had noticed them. Tonks indicated with gestures where she'd seen them, and Minerva discreetly slipped over near one of them, blocking his clear shot to the bank. The other Order members presumably did the same.

A few minutes later, she walked out of the bank. Tonks was right; she did look like Andromeda. If Minerva hadn't known what to look for, she never would have noticed. She didn't have the hostile look that Bellatrix had always worn even as a student. She walked with a spring in her step and smiled, and it wasn't an "I'm going to kill you horribly" smile.

She almost didn't believe it, but Albus did. As soon as he saw the woman, he dashed out, quick as a wink, and stood in front of her. "That will be far enough, Bellatrix," he said.

She was a good actress; Minerva could give her that. She looked surprised and nervous and said, "Albus? What's going on? I just needed to run to the bank for some errands…"

At that, Tonks strode out to stand by Albus's side. "Give it up, Aunt Bella," she said. "We know it's you."

And suddenly, Bellatrix Lestrange was standing there—a change in her whole demeanour so complete that it almost looked like a spell lifting. Those shoppers close enough to hear their conversation began to flee. "Ah, so the Dark Lord was right. You were watching. Very clever, having Little Nymphie keep an eye out for—Avada Kedavra!"

Both Albus and Tonks dodged her surprise cast, but that was the signal for the other Death Eaters to attack. Minerva felt her hair stand on end and spun around just in time to block a deadly-looking curse cast by the wizard she'd been covering. She didn't recognise his face; under the circumstances it might not have been his real face; just that he was a surly-looking type—the sort you tended to see around Knockturn Alley all the time. And he was a very good duellist. Minerva had to nearly ignore whatever was happening with Albus and Bellatrix to focus on disabling this one.

The moment the fight broke out, half the Alley ran for it in a panic. The Death Eaters probably hit a few bystanders by accident. The panic only grew when they discovered Apparition was blocked—an unfortunate side effect of their plan. The goblin guards took one look at each other and then ducked behind the bronze doors for protection, though keeping them slightly open to keep an eye on the fight. The goblins had been told that there may be an altercation just outside their doors, but that no one would attempt to breach the bank. As long as the wizards kept it outside, they didn't care.

Minerva heard an explosion behind her. Probably one of Bellatrix's curses, if she took a guess. However, the Death Eater before her occupied her attention, even as debris rained down on them. She dodged one curse after another, including Killing Curses, and threw back with everything she could think of. The Death Eater was an expert, dodging just as easily and shielding what he couldn't. Minerva wasn't such a practised duellist as many in the Order and wasn't willing to use such lethal spells. Always an uphill battle there, she thought. She glanced around for anyone who might come to her aid, but they were all occupied, too.

Still, she did her duty. She held down this Death Eater to give Albus a better chance of getting the horcrux. She panted for breath. She couldn't keep this up much longer, but then, the Death Eater made a misstep, and she heard bones cracking as she put him down with something a good deal stronger than a Stunning Hex.

She turned and surveyed the scene at a glance. Albus was duelling Bellatrix and two others at once, spells flashing that Minerva couldn't hope to work out. She couldn't see Tonks. Shoppers were still fleeing, but all of them seemed to have got out of the line of fire by now. Beneath the next building over, another Death Eater—she couldn't see his face clearly—was looming over an unconscious Bill Weasley.

Two snap hexes caught the Death Eater off guard and nearly floored him, and Minerva ran toward him, diving into another duel. Bill staggered to his feat and started cursing. The Death Eater suddenly found himself between two fighters and turned to run, but before he could, another explosion rocked the Alley, blasting all three of them off their feet.

Minerva felt herself slam into the side of a building and fell to the ground. As quick as she could, she pushed herself up to take stock. The explosion seemed to have been a stray curse that struck the ground too close to them, but it was hard to tell. Several shop fronts were in ruins by now all around the Alley. Albus was wavering on his feet. Something must have hit him, though he was still fighting. And worst of all, Minerva immediately realised that she had lost her wand in the blast.

She looked around frantically. It wasn't at her feet. It could have been blown halfway across the Alley, she thought. She tried wandlessly summoning it, but she had never become proficient with that spell like Harry and Hermione had, and without knowing where it was, it was no use.

Bill was still alive, at least. The Death Eater who had been between them wasn't. She recognised him now: Adrian Pucey, one of Severus's seventh-years.

She heard Bellatrix laugh and looked over at the fight again and saw Albus blast one of the Death Eaters away while he covered the other two. That cover was the one moment Bellatrix needed to lay her finger against her left forearm. The other Death Eaters who were still standing hissed in pain, and it was obvious what it meant.

Voldemort was coming.

She had to do something! She wasn't sure Albus was in a state to fight Voldemort himself, and they hadn't got the cup yet. She guessed they had about a minute before Voldemort came smashing through the Anti-Apparition Ward. She ran for one of the Death Eaters who was knocked out, hoping he would have a wand. Damn it all, if she had to run in there with just her fists, she would do it!

And the she saw it and stopped dead. It was impossible, but there it was, sitting in a rain-filled cauldron. It must have been a trick of the light, but it seemed as if there was a ghostly hand wrapped around the hilt, like the famed Excalibur. There in the water sat a gleaming, silver sword with a ruby-encrusted hilt.

The Sword of Gryffindor—indestructible, and poisoned. It was supposed to be Harry's responsibility, waiting in reserve with it, in case they needed to destroy the horcrux quickly, but she didn't have time to question it. She thrust her hand into the water, and pulled out the sword. Now, she had a weapon. She pointed it at Bellatrix—

She was distracted again with a call of "Professor?!"

Harry. Running in from the side entrance. She knew what happened. He must have seen the sword disappear and came it to find out what had happened. "Mr. Potter, don't—!" was all the time she had to say before—

CRASH!

It was a sound like the shattering of a tower of glass, and a wave of energy washed over her. A fraction of a second later, she heard the report of the explosion. Voldemort must have broken through the wards.

The backlash from the wards falling together with some spell of Bellatrix's knocked Albus to the ground again. Normally, only a momentary inconvenience, but not so much with Bellatrix standing over him. He struggled to get up, holding his wand up like shield to ward off attacks. Harry was duelling another Death Eater, but tried to fight his way over to him. Bellatrix levelled her wand at him again, too fast for him to stop her, but at that moment, a loud screech filled the air, and a blur of red and gold dropped out of the sky and struck her in the face. Fawkes grasped her shoulders with sharp talons, flapping madly to through her off balance, and bent down to peck at her with his beak.

Bellatrix screamed in rage at the phoenix, first flailing her arms, then there was a green flash, and Bellatrix was blown over by a fireball exploding in her face. A metallic clatter signalled something dropping to the cobblestones, and Fawkes also plopped on the ground in front of her.

Bellatrix scrabbled to her feet and made to step on the helpless chick, but Albus cast a spell Minerva didn't recognise—definitely not a normal Summoning Charm—and Fawkes flew to his hand. But Minerva was distracted by the other thing Bellatrix had dropped: the cup of Helga Hufflepuff.

Dazed as she was, Bellatrix caught on quickly. A twinge of fear crossed her face, and she hastily bent down to pick up the cup. Minerva had to do something. This might be their one chance. Even Albus hadn't been able to get the twice-damned thing off her on his own. If she picked it up and ran for it, they might never catch her.

In a flash, she knew what to do. Hoisting the Sword above her head, she cried out, "Buaidh no Bàs!" and charged at Bellatrix.

If Minerva had aimed for Bellatrix's heart, she might have managed to draw blood, and the poison would have killed her. Or Bellatrix might have blocked her. It would have been a near thing. But Bellatrix was so surprised that she hesitated a split second, then cast a Shield Charm in the wrong place: in front of her head, torso, and wand hand. Instead, Minerva brought the sword down on the golden cup in her left hand. The sword scraped off the edge of the shield with a shower of sparks and cleaved away a chunk of the cup.

Before anyone could react, before even the soul fragment could be wrenched from the destroyed horcrux, a charge of energy filled the air across the whole alley, different from before. Bellatrix let out a wordless, primal scream of rage, and her wand exploded at Minerva with the force of a cannon. The curse was so powerful that it shattered the cobblestones under her feet, and the older witch was blasted into the ground with such force that when the dust cleared, her mangled body had left a twenty-foot gouge in the gravel.

The horcrux screamed. A black cloud rose from it, and cruel winds whipped through the alley, knocking friend and foe alike to the ground. But in moments, it was gone. Bellatrix swayed on her feet for a moment, dizzy from the magic she'd expended. The Death Eaters looked on in horror. Most of them weren't sure what had happened, but it was clear the mission had failed.


Harry Potter stared in shock as he watched McGonagall fall. He felt frozen to the spot, unable to think.

That the Death Eater he'd been duelling was even more shocked was probably the only reason he was still alive.

He fell over as the wind struck him.

Dumbledore got back to his feet, his face unreadable.

Voldemort strode into the alley, looking even more murderous than usual.

Pops of Apparition sounded around him, but he couldn't even tell if they were coming or going.

He heard Dumbledore say, "You are too late, Tom," and saw him raise his wand.

He felt himself yanked over to the side, flying through the air. Belatedly, he raised his wand, but by the time he was ready to cast, he flew into the arms of Tonks, pulled to her by the Wandless Summoning Charm he had taught her. He felt a great pressure squeezing him all over as she Apparated the two of them away. He passed out when they emerged.


A/N: Well, that kind of got away from me. I honestly didn't know how that fight was going to go, but when I started in on this chapter, the ending just came to me.