Well, its Thursday again! Many thanks to "The King of Soda" for Beta-ing this chapter. Word of caution to readers, I've been significantly busy, and combining that with writers block I am not as far along with the next chapter as I'd like to be, but I know my readers will continue to cheer me on and inspire me to write with their wonderful and thoughtful reviews... hint hint... anyway, Enjoy!
Chapter Fourteen
Complexities
Severus flew up the stairs three at a time, still struggling to keep up with the Headmaster as they advanced to the second floor corridor where all the turmoil the students were making was centered. Somehow, deep down, Severus was not at all surprised to find Harry Potter was in the middle of the commotion.
The boy was standing boldly in the face of the wrath of Argus Filch, the caretaker, as the old man screamed at the boy.
"You! You've murdered my cat! You've killed her!" he was screeching, but stuttered to a halt as the boy started to actually laugh, a sickening high laugh that reminded Severus strongly of the Dark Lord.
"You senile old fool," Harry said coldly. "If I had actually cared enough to destroy your mangy cat, why would I hang it for all to see, and wait around to be caught in the middle of a corridor? Your illogicality is astounding… Now, stand aside so I can see what has actually happened to your precious feline…"
Minerva, who was standing next to Severus, looked horrified at Potter's actions, as he dodged around the caretaker to examine the cat. But Argus, eyes bulging in fury at the boy's cheek, made to grab a hold of Potter's robes, only to be frozen by Albus' call.
"Argus!"
The group of teachers approached swiftly, the Headmaster sweeping past both the caretaker and Potter to examine the feline, attached to the torch bracket by its tail. Severus wasn't particularly fond of animals, this one especially, but he still could understand the horror felt by the massed students at the sickening nature of whatever fate had befallen the cat.
Albus removed the feline from the bracket, and immediately called for Argus, Potter, Severus and Minerva to come with him as he set off towards the Head office. The foolish pomp Lockhart offered his office, clearly to seem important himself.
"No, thank you, Gilderoy, but I think we need more privacy to deal with the… ah… situation," Albus responded. The gaudy Defense Professor seemed to wilt at the comment, and fell back as they proceeded around the corner and out of sight of the gathered students.
Severus chanced a glance at Potter as they neared the gargoyle of Dumbledore's office. The boy was clearly affronted from being placed in such a position, but there was something less obvious that had drawn Severus' eyes. The boy's robes, while slightly damp from the water that was conspicuously on the floor of the corridor they had found him in, were billowing slightly in strange directions as they walked, as if caught on a gust of wind, except, there was no wind inside the castle. Severus' mind worked into overdrive as he realized the only possible connection for the odd and seemingly random subtleties.
The group arrived in Albus' office at that moment, and Severus had to give way to allow the Headmaster to study Argus' cat in silence. The caretaker however, was still desperately mourning his familiar, being awkwardly comforted by Minerva. Potter stood alone, across the room from them all, looking bored.
Finally, after several scans with his wand and many muttered spells, Albus stood up straight and turned to them. "She's not dead, Argus," he said softly.
"Not dead?" chocked the aged caretaker, looking through his fingers at the feline. "But why's she all… all stiff and frozen?"
"She has been petrified," Albus answered, then added uneasily, "but how, I cannot say…"
"Ask him!" Argus shrieked, turning his face toward Potter with an accusatory finger. "He's the one who done it, you saw what he wrote on the wall!"
Potter simply scoffed, but said nothing, staring off in a different direction with his arms folded over his chest.
"If I may speak, Headmaster," Severus said, stepping forward. He did not want to offer this side of the situation, but was compelled to as the boy's Head of House. "Potter may have simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time…"
Minerva and Filch looked at him, each with a look of confusion.
"However," Severus continued, "we do have a set of very suspicious circumstances here. Why was he in the upstairs corridor at all? I do recall seeing him leave the Halloween Feast rather early as well."
The gathered group of teachers looked at the boy expectantly.
"I had homework to finish…" Potter said, shrugging. "I ate my fill of the feast and left to finish it. I was returning to the feast afterward for dessert when I found the cat."
"But why were you in that particular corridor? It is a great way out of the direct path from the dungeons to the Great Hall…"
Potter frowned at Severus' persistence, but had no options but to answer in front of so many teachers. "I thought I heard something."
Albus leaned forward at that point. "Heard something?" he asked.
"I'm not sure what it was, like a voice of sorts, I followed it to the corridor, and was inspecting it when the feast ended. I didn't find the source and I couldn't recognize it in any way."
Severus felt very strongly that the boy wasn't being entire truthful, and it seemed that Albus would agree. But there was no lead or plausible reason for holding him longer about the attack on Filch's cat.
"Innocent until proven guilty, Argus," Albus told the caretaker firmly.
"My cat has been petrified!" he shrieked in response. "I want to see some punishment!"
Albus patiently calmed the caretaker again, reassuring him that they could cure the feline, with a Mandrake Restorative Draught. Finally he had Minerva escort the still-very-shaken man back to his office, having Potter and Severus remain to further discuss the incident.
Several silent moments reigned in the office after Minerva and Argus departed.
Finally, Albus began softly, "Well, Harry, it's very unfortunate for us to meet again over such circumstances, but please, take a seat. Have a lemon drop." Potter neither moved for the offered seat nor for the tin of Muggle sweets, but simply stood where he was, pointedly looking around the room but not at either wizard. Dumbledore looked disappointed.
"What was this voice that you heard?" Albus asked when Potter still made no move for the solitary chair after another awkward moment of silence.
The boy said nothing for a long while, but finally shrugged, "I'm not entirely sure, sir, I may have heard it in my head for all I know…"
Severus narrowed his eyes, thoughts and ideas quickly clicking into place. Voices seemingly out of thin air… inconspicuous wind… Halloween…
"Are you certain that you didn't see anything, Harry?" Albus continued as Severus returned from his thoughts.
The boy nodded, eyes not meeting the Headmaster's gaze. Even Severus could feel the strength of Potter's desire to not be in their company any longer, but frankly the boy had to deal with that as of this moment.
"Is there anything you wish to tell us, anything at all?" Dumbledore persisted.
"No sir," Potter replied quickly.
"Well, you may go then," Albus said sadly, turning his back as the boy departed swiftly. Severus looked at the closed door for a moment, then at Albus hesitantly.
"Follow him," Albus said, not even looking at Severus, who bolted for the door at the Headmaster's command.
'So the Headmaster saw all the signs of a Samhain ritual as well,' Severus concluded as he quickly followed the boy's fleeing form back down the winding corridors.
He was certainly not heading for the dungeons, and Severus caught up to him about halfway between the Headmaster's office and Gryffindor Tower. "Potter," he said sternly, causing the boy to turn with anger evident in his eyes.
"What do you want now, sir?" he said, not a shred of respect in his tone. "Do you want to demand more answers when I have none? How about you just invade my mind instead?"
Severus skidded to a halt at those words, shocked. How on earth had the boy known his intentions? As if reading his thoughts, Potter smiled maliciously. "Oh yes," he said scornfully. "I know your and the Headmaster's little secret… Legilimency, isn't it called…" Fire flashed in the boy's eyes and the windows high above them rattled slightly.
"Do you think I'm blind and foolish, Professor?" he accused, turning his back on Severus, fists balling up in suppressed rage. "You all think I did it, you all simply can't wait to find some excuse to accuse me. You all the same… arrogant! Just because I work harder than most everyone else, just because I go to whatever means needed to get what I feel is best, you want to hold me back."
Severus just stood there, baffled at the random display of unadulterated and unreasonable anger that flew at him like a projectile. Thankfully looks couldn't kill, even if it was unnerving to look Potter in the eyes right now, and the small unnoticeable pain in his neck starting to become more irksome.
"Potter," he began as the boy tailed off into angry breathing. "We simply want to get to the bottom of this mess as soon as we can. We…" Severus paused, grimacing at the lack of sincerity in his voice as he spoke. "I don't believe you to be at fault… hanging up a petrified cat for all to see wouldn't be in your style even if you wanted to harm Mr. Filch in any way, just as you told him in front of the entire school."
Taking a deep breath - his throat was feeling rather raw all of a sudden - Severus continued, "We're concerned, the Headmaster and myself, that you seem to have a departed spirit about you. I must ask, for the safety of not only yourself, but the school, if you had been participating in a ritual this evening…"
"That's none of your business," Potter spat back, starting to stalk away. Wand out in a flash, Severus send a warning bolt of light past Potters head, "Don't you dare walk away from me when I'm talking to you, boy!" he hissed. "We know that you were communing with the dead, the evidence is all around you. We have a right to know if you're at risk of possession. I demand that you tell me to whom you were speaking this evening."
Potter stood completely still, and Severus could feel the boy's magic raging inside of him. He was in a very dangerous position, but necessary to get the answers he wanted. Turning to face him, face twisted with unrelenting fury, Potter breathed out his answer, voice so small and controlled that Severus had to strain to hear him, "My parents…"
With that, Potter left, and Severus was so shaken by their confrontation and the information he was given to even attempt to stop him. Everything clicked firmly into place, making logical sense in his mind except… except for the unrelenting anger that Potter showed so suddenly, boiling over him like a river breaking its boundaries. Severus still had half a mind to go and demand further answers from him, in part to learn the full truth, and in part to ask about Lily… but, utilizing all his restraint, Severus pulled himself back to return to Albus and reporting on what he had learned.
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For the next few days after the attack on Mrs. Norris, the school could focus on little else. Anguis felt that the obsession was truly juvenile, but if he was honest with himself he wouldn't have been much different if not for the involvement of Lord Veneficus. Speaking of whom, Anguis had finally located his Master skulking around the dungeons early in the morning. The pure malice radiating from the Force was a dead giveaway that Anguis was certain that anyone in the castle could feel, not that they would understand what exactly it was.
"My Lord," he said cautiously as he entered the room that Veneficus was meditating in.
"Enter, Lord Anguis," came the reply from within.
Lord Veneficus had forgone the casual student attire for the day, and all Anguis could see of him was the Sith's jaw line from under the hood of the heavy black cloak that he was wearing. Anguis was momentarily confused as to why his Master was here in the dungeons where anyone could potentially stumble upon him, instead of the hidden, changeable room on the seventh floor, but clearly Veneficus had anticipated the question.
"The seventh floor room is no longer, for the time being, safe for us to use, Lord Anguis. The Headmaster and our own Professor Snape are taking to watching me most closely, and vanishing as we are oft to do in there would but only add to their suspicions. Until the culprit of this attack is caught, I am their number one suspect."
"So, you're not the one behind it…" Anguis said, more a statement than a question.
"Of course I'm not!" sniped back the Sith Lord. "What worth is it to me if the caretaker's cat lives or dies? What purpose would it serve? Nothing but to strike terror into the school, and garner unwanted attention… No, this is the work of an outside source… and I intend to find out who…"
Anguis was moments from asking how they planned to begin, but just then the door behind them creaked open slowly. Veneficus smiled as a trembling Terry Boot and Theodore Nott entered the room.
"Y-You su-summoned us… My Lord…" Nott said, practically pissing himself in fear. Anguis sneered at the weedy boy. He was a coward, and he had been tempting the Sith's fury from the start of the year.
"Yes, I have, Nott…" Veneficus began, standing and turning from them. "I want the information on Salazar Slytherin and his chamber… now."
Nott gulped loudly, before opening a book he was carrying. Anguis could see that it was a copy of Hogwarts, A History. Reading seemed to be a stronger skill for the boy, as his voice didn't waver as he shared the information verbatim from the tome. Most of the information was basic, but the tidbits of relevant information stood out drastically.
'Several years of harmony existed after the founding of Hogwarts School, all four of the founders, of which Salazar Slytherin was among, worked closely together for the good of the school. However, disagreements about which students should be admitted inevitable sprang up. Salazar wished to be more selective of the students chosen, preferring pureblood wizarding children over any other, and outright shunning those of muggle decent, believing them to be untrustworthy.
After a very serious argument and scuffle between Slytherin and his longtime friend Godric Gryffindor on the subject, Slytherin chose to leave the school permanently. The Legend of the Chamber of Secrets springs up from Slytherin's last words to Godric and the other founders. 'One day my heir shall return, and my work shall recommence, and this school shall be purged of all unworthy to study the magic of our kind.'
The rumor embellishes the fact of a secret chamber being built in the castle somewhere, with a monster lying within that only the heir of Slytherin can control that would fulfill his or her ancestor's desires.'
Nott closed the book softly, and the two Force users mulled the new information silently over for several moments.
"Right then," Veneficus said, more to himself than any other. "That is well in hand it seems, and shall be dealt with accordingly. There's just one other matter I have to discuss with you both…"
In a flash the Sith had whipped around and had his wand out, casting a silencing ward at the door. Nott and Boot had barely enough time to flinch before they were both slammed into the stone wall by the Force, pinning them effectively. One hand holding the pressure, Veneficus stalked toward them, focusing on Nott. "Do you really think that infringing on the very edges of what leniency I gave you regarding our relationship was wise, Nott? Do you take me for a merciful Lord?"
A flick of the wrist, and they both slammed to the floor with a groan. "You need to be punished, Nott…" Veneficus said shortly, before lightning poured from his hands into the boy. Anguis cringed on their behalf, having been under the same treatment before, albeit he could tell that Veneficus was using a far lighter dosage than what Anguis had been subjected to. Nott screamed, and Boot did wet himself, transfixed at the scene before him.
Letting up, Veneficus smiled at the pair of them, both crumpled to the ground, one in agony, the other terrified. "Do not worry…" he said mockingly. "I am not going to kill you… I still have uses for you both…" Then it was Boot's turn, for a much short time under the voltage of pain, more a warning than a punishment. After the pair of them finished twitching and writhing on the ground like the worms they were, Veneficus sent them away, commanding them to speak to no one of what had happened.
"There is still the matter of Zabini, Master," Anguis said as the pair of students turned tail and ran out of the door, still limping slightly from their punishment.
Adjusting his robe and hood back to covering his body completely, Veneficus replied smoothly, voice etched in the Dark Side. "He is of no matter to us at the present time… when his curiosity becomes great enough, he will come back to you, and you will bring him before me… then… we shall see what befalls the young Zabini…"
Anguis realized, once again as they departed, why he had chosen to serve beings like Lord Veneficus and his Master. The pure power wafting from the black-haired Sith was like an addictive drug to Anguis, lulling him towards whatever his master wanted, only for a chance of feeling that power coursing through his own veins like fire. He would learn it, even if it was the last thing he did…
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Colin couldn't believe what the other students in his classes were saying. The other first years were so terrified about the attack on Mrs. Norris that they truly believed that great and noble Harry Potter had attacked the poor cat. Colin didn't care much for animals, but he was aware enough that the Harry he knew wouldn't do something so heinous and cruel.
Intent on learning the truth, Colin set out to find Harry and ask him, himself.
At lunch he had his chance. "Hullo, Harry," he began as he casually approached the black-haired boy as he and Malfoy entered for lunch. Harry looked at him oddly, almost as though he had first seen Colin, before nudging Malfoy to continue into the Great Hall and beckoning for Colin to follow him. Beaming, he walked out to an unused classroom with the second year, who closed the door behind them when they entered and sat on the empty teacher's desk.
"You want to ask questions of me," Harry said slowly, and Colin nodded sheepishly.
"Yeah, I did." Colin replied, awestruck at how smart Harry was, to be able to understand exactly what he wanted with just a glance. The magic that surged around Harry was so inviting and soothing that he was just content to sit there and feel the boy's magic.
With another gentle urge from Harry, Colin began explaining, venting all his frustrations at his classmates and how they couldn't have any idea on whether Harry had attacked the cat or not. "It just makes me so mad when people refuse to think reasonably!" Colin was shouting by the end.
"I know, Colin," Harry replied as Colin seethed. "I can feel your anger… But what are you going to do about these people?"
Confused, Colin stared at Harry. "I… I don't know what you mean. Why would I do anything…?"
Harry sighed, as if talking with a small child, before speaking in soothing tones. "Well, Colin, if those students are showing how quickly they want to hurt people's reputations so early in their life, how much longer until they do something worse, and spiral out of control… better that someone stands up to them now rather than later, right?"
"But," Colin said hesitantly, "isn't that, like revenge or something?"
"Yes… and no…" Harry replied. "I would choose to think of it more as service in protecting those future people who would be harmed…"
Colin mulled over the concepts. Standing up to those idiots would make him feel better, and it was helping not only people they were badmouthing to the school now, but any of those in the future. Nodding to himself, Colin turned to leave. He had barely taken a step when Harry called him back. "Where do you think you're off to in such a hurry?" he asked.
"I'm going to go stop them…" Colin said, confused again. Hadn't Harry just suggested this exact course of action?
"… with no plan?" Harry asked, and Colin flushed. He didn't have a plan. "Patience, my friend," Harry said, putting a hand on Colin's shoulder and steering him back to the Great Hall. "Take the time to study those who you need to silence, for their own good, and pinpoint the exact action to teach them the proper lesson, and also making sure you're not caught and wrongfully punished for trying to do the greater good…"
"What should I look for?" Colin asked as they crossed the Entrance Hall.
"You will know when you see it," was all the answer he was given.
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The rumors circling in the air were making Hermione sick to her stomach of the vindictiveness of children. Half the things they suggested were simply impossible, and the rest were utterly without any sort of proof. Huffing to herself as she climbed the stairs from the Great Hall, Hermione decided that she had a task before her. For however cruel and vindictive Harry could be - Hermione had still not forgotten about the Rememberall from the previous year - she had a hard time seeing the black-haired boy going out of his way to remove Mrs. Norris from the school. It didn't seem to fit with all the information she had observed about Harry.
While perfectly capable of doing many things himself, he allowed others to do it for him, almost seeming to inspire them to believe whatever it happened to be was the person's own idea at times. But at the same time it was not out of laziness that he manipulated people, it was almost more for the sake of the manipulation than the tasks he had people do.
Also, from what Hermione observed, while Harry did employ fear and intimidation in people a lot to control them, it was clear and obvious that he was the thing to be feared. He wouldn't utilize a devise of secrecy to plunge the entire school into fear like 'the Heir of Slytherin', although Hermione wouldn't doubt that he was making the most of the situation and its attention on him personally.
In the midst of her thoughts Hermione arrived at her destination, the second floor corridor and scene of the attack on Mrs. Norris. Filch normally would be keeping guard here, pacing erratically and threatening passing students with all manner of venom, but right now he was conspicuously absent. Hermione did feel bad about the mess she created intentionally in the dungeons to distract the caretaker, but rationalized it by thinking about how it was for the safety of the school that she find out who was behind the attacks, be it Harry or not.
She remembered from Halloween night that the corridor was flooded with about an inch of water, but it seemed that Filch had cleared that all away. The words on the wall shimmered in the torchlight and shadows danced around the room as she stooped to examine every part of the area for clues.
The first few finds were puzzling to say the least. Hermione discovered scorch marks on the floor toward the girl's bathroom, covered previously by the water which could only have come from the room. The writing on the wall was clearly written in actual blood, and according to rumor was impervious to all attempts by Mr. Filch to remove it. Waving her wand, Hermione determined with a few simply detection charms that there was indeed magic at work on the writing, which would confirm that particular rumor to be true.
Hermione was just about to investigate the bathroom itself and see where the water had come from, when small movements from the window caught her eye. There, next to the writing on the wall, around twenty or so spiders were crawling up towards the highest pane, fighting each other to get up a single silvery thread and out of the castle through a small crack in the window.
"Odd…" Hermione breathed, taken by surprise. "I've never seen spiders act that way before…"
But unfortunately, the behavior of spiders didn't help her prove whether or not Harry was behind the attack on Mrs. Norris. In fact, none of the things she had found would do that, but they were pieces of the larger mystery that she was only beginning to unravel.
Returning to the bathroom, Hermione ignored the 'Out of Order' sign and pulled the door open. Stepping inside she founder herself in the gloomiest, most depressing room she had ever seen. The mirrors were all stained and cracked, and the floor was damp and reflected the dismal amount of light that was throw off by the scanty stubs of candles that weren't already burned out, which caused heavy shadows down toward the stalls, whose wooden doors were flaking and scratched. One door toward the end was even hanging off its hinges.
Frowning at the state of disrepair, Hermione was about to leave, as it seemed unlikely to find any clues with the bathroom in such conditions, when from the end stall came the sound of someone sobbing quietly. Hermione stared into the shadows, trying to find the source of the sound, but there was nothing.
(But Hermione in canon was fully aware of Moaning Myrtle before the Deathday Party, as she had talked about being forced to use the bathroom when there was no other option. Nothing really bad about this, it's just something I figured I'd point out.)
"Hello?" she called, and started when a pearly white form rose out of the top of the end stall. A ghost of a squat girl with dark hair and glasses turned to look at her, a mixture of surprise and irritation on her face.
"What do you want?" she demanded.
Hermione hesitated only for a moment before speaking. "I'm investigating an attack that happened out in the corridor from this bathroom on Halloween. Do you live here?"
"Yes, even if everyone chooses to forget, this is my bathroom," the ghost replied sulkily.
"Right…" Hermione said, knowing immediately that speaking with this ghost was going to be walking on eggshells. "Did you see or hear anything that night?"
The ghost sighed, deflating slightly. "I wasn't paying attention… Peeves upset me that night at a party for Nick…"
"Ghosts have parties?" Hermione asked immediately, not thinking. It was clearly the wrong thing to ask, as the ghost glared at her. "Of course we have parties, just because we're dead doesn't mean we don't want to have fun anymore… not that you'd care at any rate…" She began to sob uncontrollably, and flipped over midair before diving headfirst back into the stall with a resounding splash.
Shaking her head in disbelief, Hermione left. As she made her way up to the Ravenclaw common room, she pondered the pitiful amount of information she had gathered. She couldn't make heads or tails of it at the time being, but a thought struck her. If the moniker being used was Slytherin, where else would a clue be but in the Slytherin common room or dormitories? And if she could manage to get inside, she could also see if Harry was any different away from the school, not that she was planning to spy on him alone. But the wicked little plan in her mind was dangerous, and she would have to get a book from the restricted section, which required a teacher's signature.
Thankfully, she knew of a teacher that would love to help his best student, especially if it was worded in a way that he felt made him more important.
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Screams…
Flames…
A flash of green light…
Septin awoke with a start, his skin drenched with sweat. Holding his head in his hands and shuddering slightly, he tried to center himself in the Force and dispel the turmoil from his latest in a series of increasingly agonizing nightmares. They weren't visions, per se, as Septin only could remember flashes of scenes and noises, but the feelings were strong. Pain, fear, anger… they were dark dreams, and Septin feared that unless he figured out their meaning he would be consumed by them.
Turned out of his thoughts as the door swung open, Septin looked up as Zhar entered the room. The older man had a dour look on his face, and beckoned for Septin to get ready and follow him. "The Master has summoned us," was his only explanation as they made their way down to the secreted hangar bay.
The Sith Master was already there, waiting for them. No one said anything when Septin and Zhar came in, but Darth Millennial activated a portable Galactic map, which focused in on the Rimward end of the Hydian Way Hyperspace route. After several silent moments, the Dark Lord finally spoke.
"There has been a… ripple… in the Force, emanating from here," he indicated a single system toward the end of the Hyperspace Route. "The planet Tiss'sharl." The map reader magnified the image to show the deep blue and green planet.
"Their political empire is destabilizing," Millennial continued, walking around the reader in a slow circle, "and the corporate league of Tiss'shar manufacturers is vying for a more important role in the system's management."
The image changed, showing a lizard-like reptilian with red and gold markings on its face, resembling a mask, as well as a golden feathered headdress. The Sith Lord continued. "The Republic, in its state of demilitarization, won't want this, as Tiss'sharl is a major weapons manufacturer, and Emperor Trax-Nal-Rathan of Tiss'sharl is close with the Republic, albeit not formally a part of it."
Millennial smiled as he stopped before them. "So the Republic is not openly intervening to maintain the peace, but helping behind the scenes. You both will go to Tiss'sharl, and kill their Emperor and the entire royal family. The resulting political fallout will pave the way to a more… open-minded… form of government."
"It will be done, My Lord," Zhar said with a slight bow as the map deactivated.
"Do not fail me…" responded the Sith Master, all three eyes boring into Septin's.
He shuddered involuntarily as the mutant left the hanger, and scurried off to go gather his lightsaber and other important things for their journey. It didn't take long; he had very little of his things remaining, the majority of his meager possessions having been left at the Temple when he left with Ta-Ras-Min. He felt a flash of pain and remorse at the memory of his brief Master.
Shoving the memory aside with a hiss of annoyance, Septin rejoined Zhar in the hanger, and together they boarded the old freighter that Zhar had back on Dathomir. The starlines of Hyperspace were the most relaxing things that Septin had seen for days, and the prospects of actually doing something filled him with an anxious energy.
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Goblins were not notable for desiring to withdraw from profitable ventures, but then again, Griphook, Master of Goblin Lore of the British branch of Gringotts bank, was not an ordinary goblin. He alone had access to the ancient records and texts that dated all the way to the dawn of goblin history, and he knew of things that most other races had forgotten into myth and legend.
One of these long-forgotten stories intrigued him most, that of ancient cleric warriors that had journeyed among the stars. They had come to this world, long ago when the goblin nation was little more than a gathering of clans around a common purpose. The strangers had been seeking others like them among the goblins, and had simply taken their children from them, any who showed the same form of magic that they themselves possessed. The clans had not reacted well, and the resulting conflict had been devastating, the titanic powers routing the primitive goblin armies. Then the strangers had simply vanished back into the sky from whence they had come, never to be seen again.
Until now, it seemed…
Griphook had gotten a good look at Lord Malfoy's newest confederate at the Ministry, and the man showed absolutely no magical power whatsoever. The goblins of Griphook's clan family had finely tuned senses to be able to determine of the strength of any they scrutinized. It was an excellent advantage in business management. However, this stranger had some other abilities similar to magic, equally varied and incredibly powerful. If there was anything that came close to matching the description of the ancient child stealers, this was it.
This important fact meant another even more terrible ramification. If this man was a wanderer from the stars, and Griphook was certain that he was, then there was no possible way that he was Lord Blackmoore as he so claimed, which led to more questions, and fewer answers.
It would mean that the man had not only tricked a Gringotts employee into disclosing confidential information, a crime punishable by death, but also fooled magical family seals, and entered and removed items from several vaults that were not his own. The crimes stacking upon this mysterious man were staggering, to say the least, and Griphook knew that this situation must be handled carefully, otherwise the entire bank could be discredited, which would be devastating to the goblin community, and Griphook personally. Still, such an oversight could not be pardoned, however, with so much money operating under false pretences.
Griphook had at first given the man the benefit of the doubt, first speaking with the goblin that had first had contact with him and Mr. Potter the previous year. In the midst of a thorough and direct line of questioning, Griphook found that there had been no record made of 'Lord Blackmoore's' ancestry, and the office manager didn't actually recall a memory of the actual test being performed, despite constantly affirming that it had been and the results were certain.
Griphook could sense the strange power of the mystery man on the manager, and knew that somehow the goblin's mind had been altered, which was a feat in of itself, as all clerks of Gringotts were specially trained to resist compulsion of all forms.
This was why he was at the bank now, striding quickly and confidently into the clan leader and bank manager's office. Ragnok, leader of the Gringotts goblins, could be seen by many as cruel and terrifying, but in truth he only did what was best for the bank and the Goblin Nation as a whole, which was why Griphook could come before him with confidence at this time.
"Chief Ragnok!" he called urgently as the office door closed with a snap. The goblin lord glanced up with annoyance clear on his face, a large pile of paperwork on his desk and several secretary goblins hovering around him. The expression changed, however, when he realized the seriousness emanating from the Lore Master. "What is it, Griphook?" he asked concernedly.
"You're not going to like it, Chieftain…" was the only reply that Griphook would give, handing to his superior the parchment with his findings and conclusion. Ragnok's face was neutral as he began to skim the document, froze over cold as ice partway down, and boiled over in unmasked fury at the end. The goblin lord reread the document three times before slamming it down on his desk and snapping at the secretaries to leave them.
"We cannot let this thief and usurper utilize another Knut in this bank," he seethed, rage barely constrained in his voice.
Again, the chieftain paused at his Lore Master's expression, now somber and uncertain. "You fear for your son, don't you, Griphook?" he astutely asked.
Griphook nodded. Not in hundreds of years had one of Griphook's clan been as strong or quick of a warrior as his son, and his prowess in their family gift was unprecedented. It rivaled the ancient stories of those goblin children who were stolen from their clans. "He's still just a child, and if this man is anything like the stories… provoking him might result in him taking my only son, and I don't know if I could bear that."
"What do we do then?" Ragnok said slowly, "We cannot simply do nothing…"
"At least…" Griphook replied, still thinking of his son, "nothing that would tip off the Je'daii of what we will plan. You are right, my friend, this insult on our nation cannot stand."
"We move carefully then," Ragnok said finally, sitting back and tucking away the document of 'Blackmoore's' crimes. "Allow this farce to continue, and strike at the proper moment, extracting back from him every due tenfold…"