All Hallows' Eve
The sounds of arguing voices washed over Harry's mind like the agitations of distant waves. He's checking on them now… the cave, the Gaunt shack. I wonder how many he's found missing…
"This is madness, absolute fucking madness! He can't be killed!"
"His body can be destroyed, but his spirit will remain anchored. That is the purpose of creating a Horcrux, to shield oneself from the embrace of death."
"Of course, you would be educated on magical perversion of the soul," Doge's snide voice cut in.
"Knowledge is never something to be cursed," Grindelwald said coldly. "And I warn you to never imply that I would dare meddle with the sanctity of the soul again."
"The bloody point," Moody ground out forcefully above them, "is none of the rest of us knew he split his soul into pieces!"
"For good reason, as it has been explained to you all countless times already—or must I follow through on the promise of my lesson on legilimency with Mr. Doge to reinforce the point."
He'd long lost track of time, busy traversing the troubled thoughts which stretched far beyond the squabbles of the Order around him, and whether it was mere minutes after his escape from Hogwarts or the following morning already, he couldn't be sure. He might have checked them all by now, he considered, a sickening feeling filling his stomach. The cup might be gone.
That was his greatest worry. Voldemort was on the move, and the safety of the cup had been compromised. If they lost the cup, they lost everything; everything he had done, everything others had sacrificed in this war would all be for nothing.
Like Snape…
Harry closed his eyes, but the image of the man, brutalized in his final moments, only grew more vivid: sunken, grey, lying in a puddle of his draining life. He'd given everything to the cause—poisoned himself and suffered to his last breath in order to protect him. The revelation of it all still rocked him to his core.
Why didn't Dumbledore tell me about Snape? he wondered. Or maybe he tried, but I just didn't care to listen.
"All he was supposed to do was go in and get the sword, and he didn't even get that! There was nothing to do with Horcruxes or You-Know-Who, unless he lied about that too."
"That's not fair and you know it, Mad-Eye."
"I think what Tonks is trying to say, is that it's probably not as simple as that," Fardale added placatingly.
"I know how simple things turn out to be with Potter and his plans."
The thought of Dumbledore spurred something else in his mind. A problem which had worked itself into a knot he couldn't untie. A stone of life, a wand of death, a cloak of truth. The words meant as little to him now as they did before. Only Flamel had been able to see the message behind the stone with his centuries of wisdom, but he wasn't here now, and the other two remained a mystery. Even Snape had made mention of the riddle of The Three Brothers in his memory. The answer lies in destruction…
A gentle squeeze on his thigh stole him from his thoughts, and he looked to his right to see that at some point Fleur had slipped back into the room. She sat a cup of tea in front of him. "I thought you could do with some of this," she whispered softly.
"Thanks," he replied under his breath and took a sip. The tea warmed him, though not nearly as much as she did.
Fleur leaned closer and peered across the table. She was wearing the green of her ICW robes, and her hair was pinned back professionally. "Have they been arguing this entire time?"
"Off and on," Harry said with a shrug. "They've been talking in circles mostly, more members are coming in all the time which reignites it."
"The news of the Headmaster's death is spreading," Fleur said, her face turning serious, "They're blaming you."
Harry clenched his jaw and rubbed at his scar. "And what about the cup? Is it safe?"
Fleur nodded, and he let out a breath of relief he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "They refused to allow me in at first, but eventually they agreed to hear me out. The goblins seem on edge."
"They must be worried about the Horcrux," he said. "Voldemort likely sent someone to check on it."
"I think so as well. They were rather eager to push the meeting forward when I proposed the idea."
"Why couldn't they take you down while you were there?" he asked, curious.
"The vaults are closed at night," she said. "Besides, they still wish for the original terms of the deal to be met."
"What's that?" A voice interrupted their hushed conversation. Moody was staring at the two of them. "Something to share with the rest of us? You've been awfully quiet since you've come back, Potter."
Harry sighed, took another sip of tea, and set it aside. "I've been thinking," he said.
"Clearly," Doge derided from the side, but he kept his eyes from Harry.
"Someone had to," Harry said pointedly.
"What would you have us do, Harry?" Kingsley asked from where he stood next to Mad-Eye and Arthur. "If You-Know-Who knows that the secret to his immortality has been discovered, surely he'll collect the rest of his Horcruxes and hide them away."
"He won't be able to, because I'll have destroyed them," said Harry.
"You have them all right now?" Mr. Weasley asked.
"Not all, but most," he answered honestly. "There's only his snake, Nagini, and Helga Hufflepuff's Cup."
"The one in Gringotts?" Kingsley asked, and Harry nodded.
"You're still planning on going through with that madness?" Moody sounded skeptical.
"While you were all arguing amongst yourselves, Fleur went to Gringotts to speak to the goblins. They agreed to move her meeting to tomorrow. We'll go in the morning and get the cup before Voldemort does, and the rest of the plan remains the same: destroy the Horcruxes and lure him to the Ministry."
"You want us to do this tomorrow!" Moody exclaimed. His magical eye was on the verge of popping from its socket.
"Harry, perhaps it's better to wait and not act too rashly," Mr. Weasley hastily interrupted. His expression was solemn, and his eyes were dark and lined with worry. "This is no singular mission; this is a battle you are proposing, there are lives at stake. If all goes poorly it could mean the end of the world."
"I know what it means," said Harry, holding his gaze. Neither can live while the other survives, the words of the prophecy echoed in his ears. "It has to be now, there's no other way, we can't undo what's happened. Voldemort is scared. He's angry and vulnerable. Yes, he's more dangerous than he's ever been before, but he'll be reckless in his rage and he'll make mistakes."
"Harry is right," Grindelwald spoke up in agreement. "Desperate men will do anything in the moment to conquer their fear, no matter how short sighted and what the consequences may be. If we wait, we are only giving him time to clear his mind of such hysteria. Time where he might attempt to create another Horcrux or find a new method to cheat death."
Harry stood and looked around the room, taking in the face of everyone who stood with him. "We can end this," he said, feeling his throat stick. "This is what we've all fought for, a chance—the chance—to defeat him. 16 years ago, today, he killed my parents. He killed a lot more before that as well. I might die, but I won't let anyone 16 years from now lose their parents to him too."
"Hear, hear!" George shouted, jumping to his chair.
"No!" Mrs. Weasley turned to her son. "You won't—"
"We will," Fred butted in, not backing down. He stood on the chair next to his twin and held his arms out wide. "We all will, because that's what we're here for, that's why we joined. Dumbledore started the Order of the Phoenix to take down Voldemort, not to sit by and watch as our best chance gets turned to rubbish."
"More importantly, he's bad for business. I don't see pranks being a big thing in his new world," added George with a wink. "You don't want us moving back in and bumming it around until we're all old and grey, do you Mum?"
"Your sons are right, Molly," Kingsley said, laying a gentle hand on her shoulder. "We cannot allow our fear to rule our actions."
"But is this the right time?" she asked, looking around the room at her scattered children.
Mr. Weasley took his wife's hand and squeezed, before shifting his blue eyes to Harry and watching him with a level of approval. "It seems it is."
A chair scraped across the floor as it was pushed away from the table, and a tall, thin witch stood. "If we're off to fight tomorrow, I'd like to go spend the evening with my husband," Hestia Jones said, while tucking away a loose strand of her cropped hair with a pale, trembling hand.
"Oh, yes! My wife will get very worried if I don't come home tonight as well," said Dedalus Diggle. "Come, Elphias, why don't you join us. You have time for a nightcap, don't you?" He picked up his cloak which hung from the back of his chair and walked to the door, waiting for his old friend to join him.
Others followed behind them as well, leaving one by one, all with their own matters to attend to.
"We are going to head out too," Fardale said aloud to the few remaining members of the Order. "I want to make a quick visit at Tonks' parents."
"We are?" Tonks frowned and glanced over to her fiancé strangely.
"Yup, I think I left my lucky holster there last week," he said quickly, guiding her carefully out the door. He stopped and turned around awkwardly, "I—uh, guess I'll see you all tomorrow for the fun."
Mad-Eye and Kingsley were the next to leave, and the Weasleys prepared themselves to return to the Burrow, the twins having went over to hug their mum and express their want to spend the night at home. Gathering together, they headed for the Floo but Bill lingered in the doorframe, promising Charlie he'd catch up in a moment.
"What time will you need me?" he asked, looking to Fleur. The sound of the fireplace roared in the background.
"I was told we are meeting as soon as the bank opens," she said. "Arriving any time before then is fine."
Bill nodded and played with the point of his dangling earing. He stood there a moment longer, hesitant, seemingly caught in between minds on something; he opened his mouth but stopped, flicked his eyes to Harry, and closed it again as though holding back what he wanted to say. A resigned look took hold of his face and he shook his head. "Goodnight," he said simply, and left after his family.
"And that is all," Grindelwald said after a heavy pause, where the silence of Grimmauld Place covered them in its dolor canopy. "I have never seen this home so empty, perhaps I might pick myself a new room for the evening."
"They have better places to be tonight," Harry said soberly. Something dark inside of him wondered how many would return home when all was said and done.
"Some will die, that is unquestionable," Grindelwald said, reading the thoughts from Harry's long face. His pale, sharp eyes watched Harry carefully as he took a seat next to him. "On nights such as these, on the eve of death, do not burden yourself with the lives of others. Humanity is fragile, fleeting, a flash of magic which fades quicker than a dream. Their fates are set, but yours rests in your hands. Do not spare a thought beyond your love and your life and what rests for you in the day's after tomorrow."
"You must be used to this."
"I've fought in my fair share of battles, yes. For each, there was always something more I sought after which saw me through. War is survived by selfish men, driven by desires yet to be fulfilled, who consider their own lives more precious than any other."
Harry took in the image of the ancient wizard and his square, proud shoulders and handsome features leathered with age, and asked a question he'd voiced once before, "How did you lose?"
Grindelwald laughed, but the sound was hollow. "In truth, I didn't. At least, I thought I hadn't, but Albus always knew what he was doing." The grey-blue of his eyes fogged over, shrouding the memories which lurked within. "We met in the streets of Paris, a duel fought before the eyes of the world, but the details of which no one would remember. Albus had made sure to leave it that way."
"Why?" Harry asked, finding himself at the edge of his seat.
"He couldn't have the world know I defeated him, just as he couldn't have them know I surrendered myself in the end." Grindelwald smiled wistfully. "A portion of the city was left destroyed, the streets torn from their foundation and entire buildings levelled. Albus was on his knees, disarmed, my final foe vanquished and ready to be struck down by my hand, but he simply looked up and smiled, and I knew he had won. The Death Stick, the Wand of Destiny, a blight on my soul with its cursed power, but it was no match for the one Albus possessed, the one forged between boys who'd dreamed together in their youth. I could not end him, and the Elder Wand left me in my defeat, a mere shadow in the face of love."
"I do not understand," Fleur said suddenly. "You speak about war being won by selfish men, but then you say you lost to love."
Grindelwald's expression twisted in a funny way. "My dear Miss Delacour, there is nothing quite so selfish as love."
The former Dark Lord pushed himself to his feet and rounded the length of the table before stopping. "I will see you on the morrow. Rest well, Harry, and remember my words, they will see you through."
Harry closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair, resting his neck on the rounded edge of its high back. Exhaustion crept over him, weighing down each limb as though they'd been filled with sand. What little adrenaline had still pumped through his body was now gone, and he was left with the cold, numb realization of what they all faced. But before anymore of his troubles could bubble to the surface of his mind, a soft set of fingers combed through his hair, parting its thick strands, and tingled his scalp in a way that brought a pleased smile to his worn face.
"If you don't stop doing that, I might not ever let you go," he teased, peeking through heavy lids.
Fleur's eyes gazed down at his warmly, but her smile was strained.
"Is everything alright?" he asked, and her hand stopped.
"Oui, I am only just a bit nervous," she replied.
"I am too," he admitted, "but everything will work out, I know it."
He watched as her lip quirked upwards, and she bent over to kiss him gently on the forehead. "Will you be coming upstairs?" she whispered against his skin.
"In a bit," he said sleepily, feeling far too tired and far too comfortable to move at present.
"Don't take too long, you need your rest," she breathed, and kissed him again, this time on the lips.
As the delicate clip of her footsteps faded to nothing, Harry found himself reflecting over Grindelwald's story. Never had he expected the legendary tale of their duel to end in such a way. How had Dumbledore known his plan would work, that love would win out in the end? He closed his eyes trying to picture the immensity of their battle as they pushed each other to their limits. He imagined himself there, standing with them, watching and learning and eventually joining them as an equal. He could feel the Elder Wand pulsing in his grip as he struck them down with brutal blows which cracked the very earth beneath his feet, when suddenly the carnage of Paris fell away, and they stood on the muddy banks of a wide gushing river. The three of them were no longer fighting, only standing and watching the white foaming waters at the brink of twilight.
"Come Cadmus," Grindelwald called, waving over to the edge of the embankment. "We shall craft our own path across."
Dumbledore walked over to join him. "A wise choice, Antioch," he said, drawing his wand and aiding in the conjuring of a bridge which spanned from one bank to the other. "I have heard tales of the treachery of this river."
"Will you not join us, Ignotus," Dumbledore turned back and said, and Harry felt himself follow without word.
Sharp, jutting rocks pierced the frothing surface below their feet like the waiting teeth of a beast. Scraps of cloth were caught on their edges and scattered among them in a macabre collection were the shattered remains of bones and skulls. Crossing to the other side, they encountered a pale snake-like figure wrapped in a robe of shadow.
"A gift for you all for tricking death," it hissed, revealing burning red eyes. "A gift only you can imagine."
Dumbledore stepped forth and faced Death squarely. "I ask for a stone which brings life to those lost."
Death smiled beneath its hood and produced an inky black orb, which Dumbledore took and twisted in his hand. On the third turn, the stone cracked and exploded in a blaze, and in its place where Dumbledore once stood was a handsome golden Phoenix.
"I ask for a wand that brings only death," Grindelwald said next, and Death's smile grew only larger. It presented a long, carved piece of elder wood, which when taken in hand snapped in two. Both man and wand withered to dust and were scattered in the wind coming in from the East.
"And you, what is it you wish?" Death asked, its eyes gleaming cruelly.
"A cloak," Harry said without hesitation, and Death's smile faltered. "A cloak to hide me from the face of Death until my time has come."
From its own shoulders Death pulled a cloak which sparkled amongst the stars. "The wisest of three brothers has made his wish," Death said bitterly. "The only true gift of them all."
Covered by his cloak, he vanished from Death who screamed into the night at being cheated. The world then suddenly went dark, and when Harry opened his eyes, he found himself staring into the cracked plaster peeling from the ceiling of Grimmauld Place.
Rubbing tiredly at his face and craning his neck to relieve an ache he felt in its side, Harry checked the time and was shocked to see it was already the morning. In fact, it was nearly time for them to leave. He quickly stood and hurried through the house, noticing the silence of the halls as he did so. No one's come back yet, he thought as he reached his bedroom. They'll stay away as long as they can before it's time.
Reaching under his bed, he pulled out his trunk and took from it a clean jumper and a loose set of robes. Going to the washroom, he freshened himself up, taking care to scrub the dried blood from between his fingers and under his nails. He then changed and slipped his Mokeskin pouch off his neck, removing from it the Marauders Map and Everard's locket, and put them away at the bottom of his trunk next to a pile of Dudley's old socks. He only planned on carrying that which he needed today.
"Kreacher!" Harry called and a sharp crack followed not long after. The hunchbacked elf bowed deeply before looking to him through cloudy eyes.
"How may I serve Master Potter?"
"I need you to take my things and keep them somewhere safe," Harry instructed. "I—I'm not sure if… when I'll be needing them again."
"Kreacher can keep master's treasures safe," the elf croaked. "Kreacher has kept many things safe for his masters and mistresses. Does master want this message passed to Dobby?"
"No," he said quickly. "No, I don't want Dobby worrying about me."
"Kreacher will do as Half-blood Master commands." He snapped his crooked fingers and the trunk popped from the room.
"Oh, and Kreacher," Harry called before the elf could leave. "I'll need the locket."
Kreacher froze, and his tennis ball sized eyes fixed their stare on him keenly. "The locket, Master Regulus' locket, yes, Kreacher carries it everywhere," the elf mumbled as he reached into a slit in the ratty pillowcase he wore. "Kreacher has kept the locket safe for Young Master, what is he be wishing with it?"
"To finally destroy it," Harry said, taking it in hand and trying to ignore the way it felt alive in his grip.
Kreacher straightened a touch and the lines of his face lessened with their frowning. "Kreacher will have soup ready for master's return," he said with a final bow and vanished just as quickly as he came.
With the elf gone, Harry took the loose robe he'd picked out from his trunk and transfigured it into a sack. Inside, he carefully placed the locket and the diadem, as well as the Sorting Hat, tied it carefully, and tossed it over his shoulder.
Just then, a soft knock sounded against his door and Fleur came in. She wore the same official uniform as last night and her hair was pinned back in a similar way, but her eyes were red and tired, and he could tell she hadn't slept well.
"Bonjour, 'Arry," she smiled, brushing her lips lightly against his cheek. "Did you sleep at all upstairs?"
He shook his head. "I spent the night downstairs. Slept the whole way through, surprisingly. I was stuck in a… strange dream."
Fleur frowned. "Of anything in particular?" she asked.
"No," he dismissed. "Just of Dumbledore and Grindelwald."
"With his story from last night, I would not be surprised."
They continued to converse together on their way downstairs to the kitchen. Nerves crawled along his insides, and the thought of food twisted his stomach uncomfortably. Unsurprisingly, Fleur's appetite was equally as lacking, and instead of breakfast, they chose to settle for some coffee. Harry only sipped at his, but Fleur quickly finished her cup and drank half of another. They sat in silence a while longer, their eyes vague and minds elsewhere, listening to the ticking of the clock on the wall until it chimed with the stroke of the hour. Looking over at one another, they knew the time had finally come for them to leave.
"Have you everything you need for the day?" The voice of Grindelwald greeted them as they entered the hall.
"I do," said Harry, finding himself almost laughing at the way Grindelwald sounded like a concerned parent on a child's first day of school.
"And you?" he asked, turning to Fleur who nodded. "Then I suppose there is nothing more to be said, save good luck. I will have your comrades set in order and will be waiting for your message."
"You do know they're not under your command," Harry pointed out in amusement. "They'll take offence to that."
Grindelwald scoffed. "They may consider themselves whatever they wish, but when the fighting starts someone will need to lead the way."
"Keep them safe," Harry said, suddenly very serious.
"Guard yourself well, Harry, I will take care of the rest," Grindelwald replied.
Excusing himself in order to return to his meditation, they found themselves alone again, standing in the front entrance to Grimmauld Place. Reaching out to pull open the door outside, Fleur's hand quickly shot out and gripped his wrist.
"Wait," she said. Harry spun to face her and saw the way her eyebrows knit together, and teeth worried at her lip. "'Arry, I have something I need to tell you…"
"Does it have anything to do with why you didn't sleep last night?" he asked rather bluntly.
Her expression flitted with surprise.
"I thought so."
"Please, 'Arry, I ask that you do not get cross with me," she said nervously. "I did not keep it from you with malicious intent, I could not do such a thing to you. I simply was waiting for an appropriate moment to tell you since you were so worried about your mission to Hogwarts and I did want to trouble you further beforehand, but then you returned, and I needed to move the meeting with the goblins forward, and—"
"You never found the right time," he finished softly. "Well, I'm here now, and I can hardly get mad at you before you even tell me what it is."
She swallowed and twisted her fingers. "I had made mention of the conditions the goblins requested be met in order to see the cup—that is all true, I swear it—but there is one I did not reveal, one they refused to negotiate. Along with a goblin escort and a Gringotts curse-breaker, a fellow ICW agent was needed as well, and given the fabricated nature of my inspection, I could not choose someone who would go around asking too many questions. I had no choice, 'Arry," she insisted, taking hold of his hand in hers. "He is the only one we can hope to convince to our side."
"Who is it?" Harry asked, feeling a pit form in his stomach. A part of him already knew, but the other part foolishly still needed to ask out of a vain hope he was wrong.
Fleur's eyes beseeched him with their tender light, and the little hope he held was quashed. The name came out in a whisper and he steeled himself for what was to come.
It had been over a year since he'd last laid eyes on Diagon Alley, and he never quite realized how much the magical district meant to him. It had been his first real exposure to the wonder of magic, beyond Hagrid's tricks with his umbrella, and it was the first place where he dared consider that maybe he'd finally found a place where he belonged. Outside of his first visit, where the flying brooms, cackling pots, and strangely dressed men and women peddling their curious wares stuck out wondrously from his mundane existence within the sterile walls of Number 4 Privet Drive, he hadn't paid much attention. It had all grown so normal so quickly, and the eclectic group of shops which came and went over the years between those he routinely visited meant very little to him
Staring out now, however, at the wash of grey which covered the streets, and the barred doors and boarded windows and the silence of the ghosts of its customers, it all meant so very much.
As he walked the cobbled streets, hidden beneath his cloak behind Fleur, Harry was met with copies of his own image plastered to almost every available surface. Who wants to go shopping when there's a maniac on the loose? he glumly thought.
It wasn't as though no one could be found, as fleeting figures could be seen crossing the streets, hurriedly going about their errands, but they were scarce, and their movements were not without frequent checks over their shoulders. The very air was tense, choked with the fear of what would entail if one lingered a moment too long on their way.
At least Knockturn Alley is going about business as usual, Harry thought sardonically as they passed it by.
Above them, the snowy peaks of Gringotts towered over the roofs of the other shops, growing only larger as they neared the corner of intersecting streets on which it sat proudly. Scanning their surroundings, something itched at the back of Harry's mind, noticing the way several witches and wizards loitered in front of empty storefronts as though perusing their vacant displays.
"I don't think we're alone," he whispered under his breath, as he and Fleur climbed the white steps of the bank.
"We've been followed since we arrived," she replied without turning her head. They had joined a queue which stretched in front of the bank's bronze doors. A dozen goblins dressed in scarlet and gold and armed with heavy axes were lined on its either side.
One by one individuals were called forward, until it came their turn to approach a pair of uniformed wizards.
"Purpose?" One of them asked in a gruff voice, though his attention was focused more on Fleur's disarming smile than anything else. The other ran a thin golden rod in front of her, equally as distracted.
"I am here to see Ragnok," she said in a pleasant voice. "It is for official business on behalf of the International Confederation of Wizards."
There was a pause where the wizard didn't say anything, still staring shamelessly with glazed eyes.
"Hmm… er—this way," he eventually grunted, pointing dumbly through the front door of the bank.
Fleur nodded and strode past the befuddled pair without missing a beat. Harry followed closely after her as they travelled along rows of marble pillars and then through a second set of silver doors. On the other side, waiting in the main hall of the bank, was Bill.
"Took you long enough," he said snidely. An ugly frown marred his handsome face.
What is he on about? Harry thought, feeling an itch of irritation.
Fleur on the other hand turned her nose away from her ex-fiancé and sniffed haughtily in the air. "What are you doing here?" she returned equally as rude, and Harry's eyes widened in understanding.
"Pfft, it figures that you don't know what's going on."
"William! Miss Delacour! How wonderful it is to see you two together again." One of the taller goblins Harry had ever seen waddled up to meet them. A sharp row of crooked yellow teeth twisted in an ugly smile. "I hope our arrangements are to your liking."
"They're fine," Bill said in a way that conveyed it wasn't. The goblins grin grew wider. "What's going on Ragnok, I thought we were doing this next week?
"Apologies, but situations oft change in times like these," Ragnok said, narrowing his eyes in Fleur's direction before flicking them shrewdly around the other patrons of the bank. "I'm glad you could make it on such short notice, I cannot think of a better man to keep Miss Delacour company on her way to the vaults."
"Are we going down now?" Bill asked impatiently. Harry was greatly impressed with the way he was selling his displeasure.
"Shortly," Ragnok said. "There are small matters to attend to first, if you'd follow me."
He extended a wrinkled hand and led them down a long hallway which branched from the main chamber. Offices ran on either side of them and spaced between the doors were large portraits and elaborate tapestries depicting famous goblins of old. Harry was sure that if he had paid enough attention in History of Magic he would have been able to name a few. Approaching the end of the hall, they stopped in front of a door with a gold plaque nailed to its center. Symbols and letters of a language he couldn't comprehend were etched into its shining surface.
"My office," Ragnock said, taking out a key and opening the door with a click. "William, you are to wait outside. Bogrod should be joining you shortly."
Harry slipped in alongside Fleur just before the door was slammed shut behind them. The office was decorated in what he assumed was considered to be lavish in the taste of goblins. Large chunks of raw minerals and finely cut gems the size of dragon eggs sat upon shelves, glimmering in the haze of torchlight, and weapons of all makes and sizes hung from the walls in an open, brutal display. Ragnok sat behind his desk, his pointed ears and nose just peaking above its surface. His earlier cordiality disappeared, and an awful sneer crept over his features like a shadow.
"Through there." He pointed to another door at the end of his office. "He's already waiting for you. Don't touch anything on your way, your smell repulses me enough already, I don't want it sticking to any of my personal effects."
Fleur didn't so much as flinch at the open show of hostility.
"Ah, I was wondering when your charming personality would shine through," she said sweetly. "I am surprised you managed to control your temperament for this long, Goblin."
Ragnok flashed his teeth. "Enjoy your meeting, Veela."
Turning her back on Ragnok, Fleur straightened her green robes and headed to the door which appeared to lead into some sort of subchamber. She paused for a moment before gripping its handle, briefly shifting her eyes to where Harry stood invisibly next to her. As if sensing his presence, she lifted her chin confidently and pulled open the door.
Inside, was a bare room lit only by a handful of candles. The orange light flickered along stone walls hewn straight from the earth, and a lone table sat in its center without any chairs to accompany it.
"Viktor," Fleur called, rushing to her friend and pulling him into an embrace. Harry noticed the uncomfortable look on the Bulgarian's face as he quickly stepped away.
"I vas surprised to hear you vanted to meet," he said, gazing about the cramped room, looking anywhere but at Fleur. "Especially after the vay ve last saw each other."
"It is alright, I hold nothing against you, Viktor," she dismissed. "I understand how difficult it has been for you."
"Do you?" he said rather sharply, his hawkish eyes finally snapping to her. He shook his head and quickly backed off. "Apologies, the pain in my hand leaves me irritable. The Healers told me it vill go away vith time."
"I'm glad you are alright," she said softly, "I'd heard about the attack."
Viktor only grunted in response. The scowl on his brow dug deeper. "Ven did you arrive?" he asked.
"A few nights ago," she lied, but it was impossible to tell by her face. "I was sent to check back on an artifact of interest."
"I had not heard of such a thing. Vat is it for?"
"It has to do with Voldemort," she answered, this time truthfully. "I did not have the chance to inspect it before being pulled from Britain."
"Interesting…" Viktor mumbled as he started pacing back and forth.
Fleur raised an eyebrow curiously. "What is?"
"Nothing, only that I did not think that you ver still vorking."
"I don't know what you mean?"
"I vas told you left the ICW," he said abruptly. His footsteps echoed loudly against the rocky walls. "Ven I arrived in London, I wrote to your office after the incident at your home to apologize, but vas told you had submitted a request to leave. Ver they mistaken?"
"I… I changed my mind," Fleur said, and Harry thought he could see the beginnings of uncertainty spilling into her eyes.
"Perhaps," Viktor considered, "or perhaps you should not be here. Vy come now, vy come looking for something belonging to Voldemort?"
"Because Voldemort is our enemy!" Fleur exclaimed.
"Voldemort is not our true enemy, not here, not ven he still lives freely," Viktor spat. The strike of his feet against the floor grew in force with his agitation. He reminded Harry of an animal trapped in a cage. "I know vat brings you here, vat made you leave France ven you said you vouldn't ever again. I just vant to know vy…" The long shadows cast by the weak tongues of the flames stretched grimly over his face. "I vant to know vy you betrayed me?"
"I never betrayed you, Viktor," she protested.
"I know you ver there that day in Hogsmeade," he revealed with a hateful smile. "I saw him use your cloak, the one you vould always vork on. He used it before joining vith the devil ven he crushed my hand and killed my men. You have been vorking vith him. That makes you my enemy too."
Fleur shook her head and reached out her arms. "I am your friend."
"You are my enemy!" he exploded, drawing his wand dangerously. "Ver is he? Ver is Harry Potter!? I know he is here!" He roughly grabbed Fleur, jabbed his wand to her neck, and looked madly about the room. "I know you are here, Harry. Show yourself!"
"Stop it, Viktor!" Fleur shouted pleadingly. "It is only me, I swear, I swear."
"Do not lie to me," he whispered harshly in her ear, jerking her neck painfully towards him. "I varn you, Harry, I vill not play your games." His eyes were crazed as he shouted into the empty room, and he dug his wand a little deeper. "Do not make me take vat you love."
Unable to take anymore, the rage burning hot within his veins, Harry threw the cloak from his shoulders and stepped forward. Immediately, Viktor dropped Fleur to the floor.
"You've lost yourself, Viktor," he said. "What has happened to you? You sold your soul to Voldemort."
The veins running up his neck and face bulged as he clenched his teeth. His wand was pointed menacingly, while Harry's was still held loosely at his side.
"I have sold myself to no one. I vill deal vith you myself."
Harry shook his head. "You won't hurt me, because he doesn't want you to. You're nothing more than a dog on a chain."
Viktor snarled and tightened his grip around his wand.
"You've committed the same crime you've condemned me for," Harry bit sharply. His eyes bore into Viktor's, piercing, unyielding. "How different are you from I?"
His question was met with silence. He could read nothing beyond the hard shell of Viktor's face.
"What is it you want me to do?" Harry pressed on. "To hand myself in, so I can die? You won't get Grindelwald that way. The moment I'm gone, Voldemort will turn on you. He won't stop there either, and what will you do then, after you've let the war get beyond your control?"
"Ve vill stop him if he tries," Viktor said dourly, and Harry could only laugh.
"You'd have no chance, not without me. In your blind arrogance, you involved yourself in our war without knowing anything about it." Harry ran an agitated hand over his face. "Dumbledore fought Voldemort in the shadows for decades, and even he couldn't defeat him before dying!"
"Ve are not Dumbledore."
No one is, Harry thought sadly.
"You can't kill him. If I die, you're doomed."
"He cannot stand a chance before the ICW."
"He's immortal!" Harry shouted, feeling his frustration boil over. "How do you think he came back in the graveyard after he killed Cedric! He—can't—be—stopped." He panted and looked over to Viktor as open and honest as he could. "Not unless you let us go down into the vaults and get something we need to destroy him."
"We are so close, Viktor," Fleur spoke up, having picked herself up from the ground. Her hair had fallen from its pins and tumbled in messy silver streaks. "Please, help us defeat him."
Closing his eyes, the former Champion backed away. His face was scrunched in a painful manner. Seconds went by as he warred within himself, before his eyes snapped open again and glared towards Harry.
"And vat vill you do ven it is over? If Voldemort is defeated."
"I—What?" Harry asked confused.
"Ven the war is done, vat vill happen vith Grindelwald? Vill he go freely, unpunished for all his crimes? Vill you continue to spit in the face of all his victims?" He looked between Harry and Fleur, a rare smile pulling on the edge of his narrow lips, one dark and unpleasant. "Vill you name him grandfather to your children?"
Harry opened his mouth but found he couldn't respond. In truth, he hadn't considered what would happen if he survived. Could he turn on Grindelwald after all he had done to help him? They were partners after all, they'd protected one another, almost come to care for each other in a strange way. Could I even stop him if I wanted to?
"That is vat I thought," Viktor said with a tone of finality. He lowered his wand, shoved it into a holster at his side and fell back into the shadows of the chamber. "Go to your vault," he said, half-seen in the darkness. "You have 15 minutes before I let it be known you have broken in."
"I want you to know that I won't forget what you did for us today, Viktor" Harry said, just as he and Fleur were about to leave. "Take care of yourself… please."
His friend stood still, staring emotionlessly at them a moment longer, before dipping his head in a stiff nod and turning away.
"Come, Ragnok, let us be on our way, unless there is something else you need from me?" Fleur said as she stepped back into the office. Harry was behind her again, hidden beneath his cloak.
The goblin looked up from where he was scribbling at a mound of paperwork. His wispy eyebrows rose, and his face twisted in surprise. "You are going down?"
"Of course, that is the purpose of my visit is it not?" Fleur smiled brilliantly at his displeasure. "Were you expecting something else?"
"No, no I wasn't," Ragnok mumbled as he hopped from his chair and flicked his eyes to the door of the other chamber suspiciously. He let them out of his office and led them to another goblin who was busy conversing with Bill down the corridor.
"Bogrod, take her down to the Lestrange vault," he instructed. "Nothing else is to be inspected outside the artifact of interest."
Bogrod nodded dutifully. "Come on then, this way," the younger, far less wrinkled goblin said, and their countdown began.
They travelled down hallways Harry hadn't known existed, crossed the sprawling lengths of libraries and guarded archives and great cavernous rooms with stone slabs laid in the center of intricately patterned runes painted to the floor. There were fewer employees here than any other part of Gringotts, but all those they passed stared distrustfully at Fleur and hissed as she walked by. Harry could see the difficulty Bill was having with keeping his irritation off his face.
Thankfully, they soon reached the ends of the marbled halls and entered a narrow twisting tunnel, which sloped steeply underground. Bogrod reached up along the wall and took a flaming torch to light the way. Steel tracks ran along their feet and with a sharp whistle, a mining car came speeding towards them. There was room for four and they all piled in, Harry taking care to choose the furthest seat from where Bogrod conducted the cart.
Without warning, they shot forward, hurtling through a spiralling labyrinth of treacherous passages, where jagged pillars poked from overhead and hastily erected scaffolding could be seen off in the distance as goblins busily mined along. They spun and swirled and dropped and dipped, squeezing through spaces too tight to fit if not for the aid of magic.
The cart abruptly stopped some couple hundred feet below the ground. Bogrod picked up his torch and hopped to a thin, wooden platform sticking from the rocky wall like a thumb. Bill and Fleur followed next, and Harry after them, who couldn't help but notice the black void which seemed to swallow the world beneath their feet. Other carts screeched above their heads, and something else groaned from deep below, the sound vibrating in his chest like a heavy door grinding along its hinge.
"We're changing carts," Bogrod said, leading them down a path which cut straight through the rock.
"Why?" Fleur asked.
"The most valuable vaults of some of the oldest pure-blood families are at the lowest level of the bank," Bill explained, his face suddenly going red. "Ours is, uh… near the top."
"I don't think a Veela has ever reached so far below the surface of Gringotts before—or at least a Veela who made it out alive," Bogrod said with a malicious smirk.
As they walked, the groaning sound from earlier seemed to grow louder, more guttural. Pebbles danced along the ground at their feet, and small chunks of stone rained from the low roof above. It felt as though the mines were alive around them, and they were nothing more than intruders wandering hopelessly through its innards. Bill looked unnerved, as did Fleur, and Harry kept the Elder Wand snug in his grip.
"Nearly there," Bogrod told them as they entered a hidden alcove where a single cart awaited them.
They stepped inside as they did before, but this time rather than circle in a dizzying pattern, it carried them straight down into the waiting mouth of the darkness. It felt as though they were being digested, cramped and warm and wet, and just as they were about to shift tracks, a piercing shriek tore through the air. It wailed and wailed, over and over in a terrible siren that only grew in volume.
Bogrod jumped in his seat and turned around in alarm. "You!" He pointed at Fleur in accusation. "Filthy flying vermin!"
"Easy, Bogrod, just take us where we need to go," Bill said. His wand was out and pointed at the goblin.
The little creature snarled. "They'll have your heads for this—both of you!" And before any of them could react, he slammed his palm into the front panel of the cart and it lurched violently, swooped, and dumped them into the abyss below.
The wind whipped past them as they fell. He could hear Bill shout and Fleur scream, but he couldn't open his eyes from the sting of the rushing air. They tumbled, weightlessly, for what felt like an eternity, all the while, the siren continued to echo in a calamitous roar overhead. Peeling his eyes open, ignoring the pain as they were cut by the dry wind, he could see small pricks of light—torches, something in his mind told him—rapidly approaching below.
He drew his wand, but before the spell had even left his lips, a net of magic caught them in its grasp, slowed their descent, and dropped them unforgivingly to the stone floor. His heart was in his throat, and stomach left behind in the minecart they'd abandoned somewhere high above. Harry keeled over gasping and blinked rapidly trying to bring moisture back to his eyes.
The skittering of feet stole his mind to attention.
"No!" he shouted, blasting a pile of stones in warning, "You're not going anywhere."
Bogrod froze and stared at Harry in shock. The stench of fear filled the air.
"Take us to the Lestrange vault, now—or it won't just be the Veela's who never made it back up."
The goblin nodded, not daring to so much as breath without being told to.
Harry went over to help Fleur to her feet. Her face was white, and her knees trembled under his support, but otherwise she was unharmed. Bill was already up scanning their surroundings, and while he was doing so, Harry folded away his invisibility cloak and checked to see that the pack was still tightly held over his shoulder.
"You will be hunted, Mr. Potter," Bogrod spoke up, seeming to have regained a sliver of his confidence. "Not just by my kind, either. You were not the only ones to come see us last night—the Dark Lord wants back what is his."
"I was planning on it," Harry replied. He looked to Fleur and sent her a sober nod. "It's time," he said, removing his charmed galleon from his pouch. It burnt beneath his fingertips as it sent a fateful message.
Attack on Ministry now. In the vaults. Will come to battle soon – HP
Not wasting a moment longer, they forced the goblin at wandpoint through the final twists and turns of the subterranean passages. The siren was nothing more than a distant buzz at this point. In front of them opened a large semi-circular chamber, stretching some fifty feet in the air. Lined by pillars of granite, an enormous brazier sat in the center of the cavern, casting an orange gloom over its dark depths. Four vaults sat in each corner, and Bogrod lead them to the one marked with the image of a singular crow perched on a skull.
"Open it," Harry ordered, nudging the reluctant goblin not-so-gently forward.
Bogrod looked over his shoulder and grimaced. Pulling up his sleeve, he placed the flat of his palm on the thick iron of the vault door. A low groaning sound rumbled around them, and the door melted away like a sheet of ice in Spring, revealing mountains of gold and silver spilling over one another, and chests crammed full of jewels resting on top of their mess. Antique wardrobes, goblets dotted with pearls, family grimoires, and skins of exotic animals—both magical and not—were only some of the things stored within.
"Wait," Bill warned, holding out a hand. Harry backed away from the mouth of the vault. Taking out his wand, the redhead tapped one of the galleons by his feet and watched as it rattled and jumped and split. "It's protected by the Gemino Curse." Whispering an incantation, a bit of steam sizzled from one of the gold pieces. "And the Flagrante Curse as well."
He knelt down and hummed beneath his breath. Fleur stepped next to him, eyeing the shower of coins warily. Harry, in the meanwhile, gazed into the depths of the cave-like vault, scanning its every glittering surface. Beyond the stacks of treasures was a collection of ominous looking instruments, with leather straps, razor edges and poles with freshly sharpened points. Just above those, resting on a shelf, was a racing broom proudly displayed in a crystal case and painted in a gold leaf. Next to the case, tucked in the highest, furthest corner of the room was a porcelain plate, and behind it, nearly forgotten, a plain gold cup.
"I found it!" Harry exclaimed and pointed to the shelf.
"It does not look very special," Fleur noted, but the frown on her face suggested she sensed the same corrupted essence as him.
Behind them, Bill was lost to his work, busy muttering in a strange language and drawing his wand in complex patterns over the floor of the vault.
"Do you have the rest?" Fleur asked, and he nodded. He took the pack from his shoulder and sat it on the ground. Looking back up, he glanced from Fleur to the vault to Bill, and then to the rest of the cave.
"Where's Bogrod?"
"INTRUDERS! Over here! Help, HELP!"
The gravelly voice of the goblin rocked throughout the mines, amplified with the help of a strange silver tube he was shouting into. In their distraction, Bogrod had scurried back to the narrow passage they'd entered through and out of sight.
"Hey! Get back here!" Harry yelled, chasing after their hostage.
He'd made it halfway across the chamber when the ground shook beneath his feet. Something groaned, and this time it didn't come from the mouth of an opening vault. It came from something alive. He could feel it now, hear it, even smell it; brimstone, nails streaking over rocks, and a presence which loomed over them in a dark cloud. Harry pulled at his collar. Waves of heat pressed down on him, choking the air in slow rhythmic puffs. It's breathing, he realized. With dread curling in his toes, his head tilted up and his mouth fell open.
Clinging to the ceiling like a giant white bat was the largest dragon he had ever seen. Harry remembered the Horntail from the first task of the tournament, and this must have been double the size. Its scales were nearly translucent, taking on an almost pinkish hue whenever the light flickered over its skin, and a pair of glowing, deep red eyes watched him with inhuman intelligence, telling him all he needed to know of its intentions.
It roared and the world erupted around him. The walls cracked and trembled, and giant shards of shattered stalactites snapped and fell to the earth as icicles would from a wintery roof. Harry was forced to dodge their pointed tips while negotiating his balance with the swaying floor as a sailor would the deck of a ship in a storm. He watched it coil and rear like a serpent before it leapt to the floor, shaking it again, and sending him tumbling to his knees.
The dragon hissed and rushed forward, only to be cut short and left snapping at the air mere feet away. A heavy iron chain was shackled to one of its hind legs.
Thank Merlin for small mercies, Harry thought.
"It never gets any easier, non?" Fleur said, standing next to him.
Together they stood with their wands drawn facing the colossal beast as it slowly circled around them. It swept its tail along the floor, tossing boulders off the edge of the cliff behind it, and smoke billowed from the slit of its nostrils.
"We've fought one of these before, you reckon it's any similar?"
"I do not see an egg for us to steal this time," Fleur replied with a shaky smile.
"How'd you trick it again? I flew."
"I put it to sleep."
"Do you remember how?" he asked, not taking his eyes off the dragon. For a moment it looked like it would attack, but instead it backed further away to continue its predatory dance.
"Of course not," she said, and he figured as much. How often does one fight dragons? "Madame Maxime gave me a song to memorize and I was so nervous I could hardly even remember it then."
"Well, I guess we'll just have to improvise then," Harry grunted and shot off a curse that bounced off the dragon's rough scales.
Its burning eyes shifted to him, becoming the sole focus of its ire.
An open, toothy maw was the only warning he got before a wave of fire surged towards him. Harry dove behind the protective cover of one of the pillars. The granite glowed under the intensity of the heat at his back. Rolling out of cover, he sent another blast of magic which struck the dragons plated jaw, briefly knocking it off balance. The force of the spell would have torn the head off any other creature.
The dragon screeched in a murderous rage. Twisting, it swung its tail like a club and crushed one of the pillars to his left. Shielding himself from the flying debris, another jet of flame flashed across the chamber only to be intercepted by a gush of water which spouted from thin air. Fleur had jumped to his aid, holding the pale twinkling cloth of Ravenclaw's cloak; and as salt and sweat and steam filled the air, Harry converged the mists and swept them in vortex.
Taking advantage of the monster's disorientation, he summoned great stone arms from all sides of the surrounding cavern and directed them to grapple with the dragon. With more limbs than a giant squid his magical creations pinned the reptilian beast by wing, snout and tail.
For a moment it fell very still, and Harry thought it might have exhausted itself, but with two powerful beats of its might wings it shattered its rocky prison and rose high above them all.
A loud shrill ringing noise pierced the air then, and the dragon recoiled in pain, cowering from the unexpected sound. Bill walked towards them, shaking a small metal instrument in his hand. He scowled as the dragon scampered up the wall to a sheltered corner of the ceiling.
"It's barbaric, using these things against them," he said. "It's bad enough they keep them down here already—a Ukrainian Ironbelly should never be this color."
"What is that?" Harry asked. It had to be powerful if it was capable of scaring a dragon.
"They're called Clankers," Bill spat. "They condition the dragons to expect punishment whenever they hear them." He checked over his shoulder, still shaking the device in his hand. "You should go to the vault, I broke the curses protecting it."
Before Harry even had a chance to move, footsteps and voices could be heard echoing down the passage to the chamber. One in particular sent a chill to his bones.
"THIEVES! Where are they? Where is Potter? What have they taken from my vault!?"
Harry spun around to help, but Fleur pushed him back.
"Go! Destroy the Horcruxes!" she shouted desperately. Her eyes were wide and pleading. "We will hold them off."
Every instinct inside of Harry warred in that sliver of time, sending his heart into a storm that thundered against his chest. The choice was ultimately taken from him, as Fleur and Bill stepped forward to meet their pursuers, leaving him behind.
Cursing himself, Harry ran back to where he left the Horcruxes next to the vault. Untying the pack, he removed the locket by its gleaming chain and lay it on the stone floor in front of him.
"I will kill you, I will kill all of you! Crucio!" A terrible voice screeched, and spellfire burst like canons in the distance.
Don't turn around, don't look back. You can't lose focus, he told himself as he closed his eyes. The locket was square in his mind, and within it, the secret of Voldemort's soul. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing of the forgotten language came out.
"Open," he tried again, forcing the words from his throat. But its gold doors remained shut, it only being English that he spoke.
Come on Potter, think, think… It can't be so hard to remember a damn word!
It was, however. When Hermione had told him how to open the locket, he had worried what the destruction of his Horcrux would mean. Now his greatest fear had come to pass. With it gone, his mind was left blank; an empty void, where Parseltongue was nothing more than a faded memory, worn and washed by the tides of time.
Manic laughter bubbled over the clamor of battle behind him. An ear-splitting roar drowned it out soon after.
It's still there, it can't have gone… You just need to find it!
He closed his eyes again and pictured the locket with its glittering S which coiled like a serpent. He could see it slither in his mind, the green gems reflecting as scales did in the sun. He hissed as a child would in a poor imitation, surely speaking some sort of gibberish, twisting his tongue in strange shapes and directions until it locked on to something familiar. It came out as easy as breath, and he'd only realized he'd got it when there came a soft click.
The hinge swung wide open, revealing a twin set of crystal lenses. Behind them, beating to their own pulse, were Tom Riddle's eyes still dark and handsome and very much alive. Harry reached for the brim of the Sorting Hat and they spun to him, flashing scarlet.
"I have seen the darkness in your soul."
"Shut up!" Harry shouted harshly.
"I have seen you accomplish great things—terrible, but great. I have seen the fear locked in your heart, and it is mine."
"Get out of my head," he groaned. His hand dove into the hat, but he found he could not look away from the eyes.
"You have become what you swore to defeat… a liar, a monster… one who cares not for the love of others, even less so for their lives…"
The locket twitched along the ground, and beyond the windows, deep into the eyes, he could seem them bubble like figures of wax. But rather than melt away, they twisted grotesquely into a pair of mishappen legs, then joined at the hip and stretched into a chest, then arms, and finally a face marked by a familiar set of round glasses.
His own image stared out with Riddle's red, gleaming eyes.
"How many will die because of us? How many are set on their way now?" The shade of himself asked with an unhinged smile. "No one is safe from our violent touch… not even our delicate flower yet to be plucked."
Harry turned to see Fleur duelling Bellatrix Lestrange. Spells a deadly green crashed around her as the mad witch cackled and pushed her back.
"No, NO! That's not true! I won't let it!"
His eyes flashed dangerously back at him.
"Choices are what define us, and ours have bred destruction. What is the price of one life in the face of our survival… how many corpses have been left at the feet of our cowardice…"
"I'M NOT A COWARD!" Harry yelled in a righteous fury, but his hand grasped emptily within the hat, the hilt of the sword not coming to him.
His mirror image laughed, high and shrill.
"Come then… let us show our courage. Let us give ourselves for the lives of others." A hand just like his reached out in the air between him, the fingers growing longer, more slender, more bone-like. "Join us, so we can change the world."
Harry turned back to Fleur, away from the temptation of Riddle's hand. Her robes were singed and cut, soiled and bloodied by Bellatrix's hand. Her wand lay feet from where she was splayed over the rocks, and her eyes stared up in pale fright. It felt as though he watched through the distant eye of a vision, the world foggy, screams muted, and his limbs rooted without any hope to help.
He couldn't let them win, he couldn't let her die. What else was there to live for if all he wanted was stolen from him.
Throwing the hat to the ground, he pulled out his hand and the sword came with it, singing in a silver ark. It plunged; the locket clattered, there was a shatter of glass, and the image of Riddle in himself was no more.
"No!" A scream clawed the air. "No, no, what have you done!? What have you destroyed! My Lord's treasure, his most precious secret… you will pay for that, you will pay! AVADA KEDAVRA!"
There brazier at the center of the room flipped on its side intercepting the curse destined for Fleur. Bellatrix howled as glowing coals exploded over her with their blistering touch.
"You filthy bloodtraitor!" Her eyes narrowed to the point of daggers, and a dark streak of magic cut into Bill's side.
Fleur screamed, the redhead fell, and the Clanker tumbled from his grip.
Free from the bounds of the torturous device, the dragon crept forward and blew a pillar of fire into the sky. Its glare suddenly turned to Bellatrix, the newest of unwanted invaders. A pile of dark-robed figures already sat at its feet, charred, half-eaten, and discarded in distaste.
"Bill!" Harry shouted, sprinting to the eldest Weasley's side.
"H-Harry… hey…" He smiled weakly. His skin was pasty, and a darkening stain bloomed from a spot beneath his ribs. "It's not so bad… I—I don't feel much…"
Harry shook his head, knowing he was lying.
"Bill, you're—"
"Don't worry about me… worry about her."
He took Harry's hand and raised it to Fleur, who stood in the face of a storm of flames, beating back the strike of its fiery tongues.
"I don't blame you…" he continued in a whisper. Twin rivers of blood poured from each nostril and stained his mouth. "I'm only sad it wasn't me… but I'm glad she has someone to love her."
The heat was unbearable, cooking them as an oven would. It blackened his lungs and filled the air with a smoke that stung at his eyes.
"I can't leave you behind."
"You won't have to, I'll still be here when it's all done, waiting," Bill said, a calm understanding in his wet blue eyes. "Just… take care of my family until then, will you… they love you, all of them, you've always been one of us… and a little brother to me."
Bill gasped sharply, painfully, and squinted down at his fully red side. He laughed, the sound mostly empty. "I can't wait to tell Charlie how I got out of this one. None of them will believe it."
"You'll see them soon," Harry promised.
Bill looked up through already closing eyes and nodded. "I know…"
The roar of the flames drowned the furor of his emotions, and Harry turned to the raging inferno behind him. Fleur stood with her cloak aloft, holding off the worst of the curling flames. They almost seemed alive, sentient, as the shadowed shapes of beasts swarmed within its depths, lashing with pointed tails and claws.
Bellatrix stood at the center of the chamber, giggling with an uncontained madness. Her eyes danced as the head of a Chimaera snapped its jaws into the side of the Ironbelly. Even the dragon couldn't stand the fieriness of this hell.
These flames weren't natural, Harry realized. They were cursed with a magic any sane man wouldn't dare meddle with. He read of such a fire before, Fiendfyre.A fire that would turn on its caster, a fire that burned with an insatiable hunger for destruction, a fire with the power to destroy anything in its path, even a Horcrux…
A thought came to him then—an idea. One that just might work out if it didn't kill all of them first.
He drew the Elder Wand sharply across the air, and a crimson ribbon of magic cut deeply into Bellatrix's shoulder who hissed in pain.
"I've destroyed one of his Horcruxes already, do you really think you can stop me from destroying the rest!" he taunted.
"I'll kill your girlfriend, Potter. Just like I killed Weasley," she snarled. "Then I'll bring you to my Lord and watch as he kills you once and for all."
"What will he do when he knows you failed him?" he said, ignoring her threats. "What will he do once he knows it was you who made him mortal?"
"I would never!"
"You will," he incited, and she did exactly as he wanted.
Panting, and sweating from the effort, Bellatrix fought the feral flames, and with a drawn-out scream, she directed the entirety of the hellish blaze in his direction.
It struck with the force of a hurricane, the impact sending them stumbling back. The air hissed and cracked and sizzled, as fiery waves crashed into a wall of water.
Harry sprinted towards the vault.
"'Arry!" Fleur shouted to him in a panic. Her arms trembled under the weight of the fire which threated to consume them all. "What are you—"
"Trust me!" he called back. "Just hold on!"
The sword had disappeared, but he picked up the Sorting Hat and placed it on his head. Taking the diadem, he leapt into the vault, scrambling over its mountains of treasure crammed from floor to ceiling. Coins showered overhead, and potions spilt from their jeweled flasks as he tore them from tables to climb higher inside. He stretched on his toes to reach the shelf, but rather than take the cup, he shattered the crystal case of the racing broom and removed it from its display, swapping the diadem in its place.
"Let go!" Harry shouted, and Fleur looked at him as if he were crazy. He was. "You can't hold on forever, just let go!"
Fear mixed with relief in her eyes as she dropped her cloak and collapsed to the floor.
Harry opened his arms, welcoming the approaching storm. It came to him in a flash of deep reds, fierce yellows and oranges that set the world alight. The Elder Wand seared in his palm, burning with a power the hellfire could only wish to possess. Sweat dotted his skin only to immediately evaporate under the searing heat, and before it swallowed him in its blaze, he wrestled it from the air, taming the flaming winds which scorched his face, resisting their every buck and blow, and cowing them until they submitted to his rule. With the flames now his, malleable in his grasp, he shot them in a flaming tunnel through the door to the Lestrange vault which hung open, expectant, like a mouth.
"NO!"
Bellatrix reached out, screamed, and stared in a way he'd never seen from her before. There was fear, so much fear in her violet eyes, which shined with a twisted beauty from the light of the vanishing flames. Other screams rang out as well, high and shrill, identical in their eery timber and overlapping as they died in a distant duet.
"No! No, no, no."
A flaming river of gold flowed out the vault in a slow trickle that spilled over the cavern floor. "My Lord, I will find them!" she screamed as she dove beneath its metallic surface. She splashed, sending up showers of smelted sickles and rubies and pearls. "I will find them, I will save them!" She tried to swim, but slowly, inevitably, became trapped in its smoldering current. The red blistered skin brought sick to his stomach, and as it sloughed off the bone, he nearly emptied it. Drowning, crying, sobbing, she stumbled, and even from this distance he could see the desperation and the hatred carried to her final breath as she slipped silently into its molten depths.
Unable to stomach anymore, Harry pulled Fleur to him and kicked up off the ground. The broom lifted haltingly, jerky from its years of disuse, but with skilled hands he guided it higher and higher. The air was crisp and fresh up here, free of the stench of burning flesh, and his lungs breathed deep in relief. Below them an enormous white figure stretched its wings, a twisted melted chain trailing loosely in its wake.
He swooped around to follow the dragon, which spiraled and crashed into walls in the rush of its newfound freedom. But before doing so, he spared a single look to the chaos left behind.
The Horcruxes were gone; destroyed by the hand of Voldemort's most loyal.
"We made it?" Fleur's breathless voice tickled against his ear.
"We did," Harry said, still not quite believing it himself.
"And William…"
He could hear the anguish behind her voice and could only guess at how she felt.
"We'll find him when it's over," he said, taking her hand in his, while following the path of bent tracks and pulverized passages which climbed to the surface.
The dragon had clawed its way through the floor of Gringotts, blasted the marbled pillars of the lobby, shattered its chandeliers, and left behind a wreck of dust, rubble, and limp bodies of those unfortunate enough to not get away. They floated undisturbed up and out a hole carved from the ceiling which hadn't been there when they arrived hours before. Outside, the sun was at its peak, marking mid-day, and the dragon was nothing more than a tiny white blot in an otherwise blue sky.
Harry landed on a nearby rooftop overlooking London. Fleur's head nestled comfortingly on his shoulder, and the chill autumn winds kissed pleasantly on their skin after the searing heat they'd endured in the mines below. He let out a long-held breath and wrapped an arm around her but stiffened at the familiar burn of the galleon in his pocket.
His heart skipped as he read its message, knowing what was to begin.
He's here.
AN:
I hope you all enjoyed this latest update! In truth, it was two chapters put into one (essentially All Hallows' Eve part 1 and part 2), but given how close we are to the end they've been released together.
I can't express how thankful I am for everyone who has read, reviewed, followed, favourited, and recommended this story. Never did I imagine something I posted 3 years ago with hardly any writing talent would be so well received. So thank you and bless you, and I hope I can bring you the final instalments of the story as soon as I can.
As always, please leave me your thoughts and constructive opinions. Your reviews mean a lot and are greatly appreciated.