Chapter 28: The Underground Lake

"So how did you get into transfiguration?" Harry called to Minerva over Albus's vacant chair. It was the fifth time that week Albus had missed a meal in the great hall. Harry had either been keeping to himself during meal times or talking to Pamona Sprout on his right for fear that Minerva might still be angry with him, but he decided it was time to get over his fear.

"Well," Minerva started, raising her voice uncomfortably so that Harry could hear her, "in school, I—oh bother." She stood up and waved her wand. Her chair switched with Albus's so that she could sit next to Harry. Her food moved plates automatically, leaving her original plate spotless.

She continued her Scottish lilt at a more convenient decibel. "Albus taught me transfiguration in school. He was," she smiled, "inspiring. He always made transfiguration look like the most important art. I still use it the most—it comes in handy with other things like defense against the dark arts as well."

"Why did you want to teach?"

"I'm sure I could have done any number of things, but Albus is very convincing…and he's really an excellent wizard to work for, despite my winging," she smiled. "I missed Hogwarts when I left. You'll find, if you haven't already, that it's a truly unique place. It's a home. –Besides that, I've always been an academic. Other work didn't satisfy me as much. I really loved learning in school, and teaching now—and I suppose I continue to learn. There's a lot of magic that I didn't learn in my seven years as a student at Hogwarts that I'm learning now."

"Like what?" asked Harry.

"I, like Albus, have become interested in the study of wandless magic. Albus is interested in the ability to cast normal spells without a wand, but I confess my interests have become more specific."

"Oh?" asked Harry. Harry knew that the Professor Dumbledore in his time had become capable of plenty of wandless magic. Harry was interested in looking in on his study.

"Albus has always been interested in wandless magic. –He wants to experiment with the sort that's never been done by anyone. He does copious research on the subject and confers with old scholars and comes back very excited, but I don't think he's ever accomplished anything. He either really likes melding brains with other geniuses, or he just pretends to be excited so that nobody finds out he isn't getting anything done."

Harry chuckled, ignoring the prickle of frustration that Albus might be out melding his brain with random scholars fumbling around in the dark rather than he, Harry, who could already do wandless magic perfectly well, thank you.

"So what are you studying?" asked Harry, wrenching himself away from the topic of Albus.

"Well, I've decided to study the difficult, rather than the impossible. I'm studying animagi."

"Oh! Yeah! Of course!" Harry exclaimed, having forgotten that Professor McGonagall had been an animagus. "I—that's fantastic."

"It's very difficult magic, of course, and I don't expect I'll ever—well, I'm just very interested in the theory."

"Are you considering trying to become an animagus?" asked Harry.

"Well, I haven't really…there's a lot more research I have to…The library has an astonishingly slim selection and I haven't gotten a chance to go find any elsewhere."

Harry frowned in thought and wondered—how had his father and Sirius found sufficient materials on the subject? If Minerva, a professor of transfiguration, was having trouble finding enough information to even satisfy her curiosity, let alone instruct her on the transformation, how could two teenage boys manage it?

Harry himself knew a bit about animagi themselves having spent time with Sirius, but he'd never considered the process for becoming one. After he'd defeated Voldemort, Harry had gone straight into studying for being an auror. He'd been more focused on getting the job than learning how to develop his own magical skills.

But Harry wasn't training for an auror's test, and he found he had significantly more time between grading essays than he did between dangerous missions. Maybe he should take on an educational project—it might take his mind off of Albus. Of course, a project like becoming an animagus, while immensely difficult for most witches and wizards, may prove to be simple for Harry.

Fawkes hummed in Harry's head.

Harry wondered what the difference would be between turning into a normal animal and a magical creature. Could Harry become an animagus with the form of a phoenix? Could anybody? He had a project.

He turned back to Minerva.

"That's incredible! I've always thought that becoming an animagus would be a good defense against the dark arts weapon. Do you want to work on it together?"

She squinted.

"I think I could help you—and I think it's a project that's more interesting with…er… more than one point of data."

"You may find flattery works better."

"Minerva whatever your middle name is McGonagall, may I please be a humble witness to your transfiguration genius? I'll buy the books?"

Minerva was pressing her lips together into their trademarked line until she heard the last sentence and her expression softened.

"The books and supplies are tough to afford on a teacher's wage, Crockett."

"Well, I said books…what supplies?"

"It's mostly a transfiguration process, but certain potions and magical objects are required. As I told you, I don't really understand yet."

"Yeah, alright," said Harry. "I'll get all of it. Just let me know what we'll need. I wasn't always a teacher, you know. Tomorrow's Saturday. Do you want to take a trip to Diagon Alley to look for books?" asked Harry.

"I already have a list," Minerva smiled.

"Would you like me to get them for you, ma'am," mocked Harry.

"No, I suppose I'll have to come and make sure you don't foul it up…" she grinned. "Does funding my operation include lunch?"

"Naturally," smiled Harry.

"That doesn't make it a date," she said warningly.

"Really not," replied Harry flatly.

"Oh teacher I need you like a little child
You got something in you to drive a schoolboy wild
You give me education in the lovesick blues
Help me get straight come out and say
Teacher I, teacher I, teacher I, Teacher I need you"

Harry sat up in his bed, squinting in the Saturday morning light and refrained from cursing the record player into smithereens. The record on the turn table, something else from Elton John, wasn't even the one with part of his soul in it—Harry never kept his record on the turn table. In fact, Harry'd never actually played his record. Physical contact with it was potent enough. Harry didn't really want to know what happened if he actually played it.

Despite the fact that the other records weren't part of Harry's soul, they did a good enough job on their own of picking songs to fit what was going on in Harry's head. Harry suspected that maybe the turntable had evolved to have a sense of humor.

Elton John reached another chorus and Harry waved his hand to shut off the turntable. Harry got dressed, packed his bag, and exited his tower. Harry walked through the seventh floor hallway on the way down to breakfast, but he stopped when he heard the sound of the stone escalator grinding to life. Without thinking, he paused, listening silently.

He heard a knock on the door above and held his breath.

"Good morning," he heard Albus say, muffled by distance. An energetic man with an almost undetectable accent responded.

"Hello Albus, thanks for inviting me."

"I thought we'd be more comfortable here. I hope you'll pardon the inconvenience," Albus replied.

"Ah, Albus. The inconvenience is insignificant compared to what is to transpire. I love being back at Hogwarts, too. It really has been an age." Albus chuckled and the voice continued. "And truthfully, I'd rather not have my wife walk in on us again."

"She's a wonderful woman. I can't help feel guilty that I'm taking you away from her."

"Don't worry about me and my wife. We've spend enough time together that she won't mind giving me up to you for a while— or a decade. She knows I need this. Anyone would. She has her own…hobbies."

Albus chuckled. "Well, why don't you come in. Would you like some tea before we start?"

"Yes, please," Harry heard. "But I must say, dear Albus, you look like you haven't slept. Have you been working all night, or is it dreams again?"

Albus's voice was either too muffled for Harry to hear, or his response had only been a nod, for the next person to speak was the stranger. "My dear, it does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live."

There was light shuffling and Harry heard the door close.

Harry came back to his senses and realized that he'd been eavesdropping. He stood invisibly for a moment, going over the conversation in his mind.

Who is that man?

Harry's thoughts were interrupted by pair of Ravenclaw girls giggling down the hall, their poodle skirts swinging around them. Harry avoided them and made his way to breakfast.

"Would you like to apparate or fly?" Harry asked Minerva.

"Apparating is faster," said Minerva. "I don't want to carry a broom around. You can apparate, right?" she teased.

Harry rolled his eyes. "I can tie a duel with Albus Dumbledore, but no, I'm sorry, I can't apparate," he replied, leading the way out of the entry hall onto the grounds.

"Don't tell Albus I said this, but I think you were lucky to tie with him—and none of us even know what happened at the end. You both disappeared. What did happen?"

"I—we—we were mutually incapacitated."

"The paint?"

"To get us out…but, obviously, it was too late."

"Out of what, exactly?" she asked as they reached the gate.

"Why, our incapacitation, of course," Harry smiled evasively, holding the massive gate open.

"Harry—"

"Flourish and Blots, then?" interrupted Harry.

Minerva sighed. "Yes, yes."

They dissapperated (Harry with an intentionally loud crack) and appeared in Diagon Alley, startling a few shoppers.

"Shall we go in, then?" asked Minerva.

Harry nodded and led the way.

"What do you think, instructional or theory?" he asked.

"Both," said Minerva.

They made their way through the heaped aisles and began digging in a promising section. They were done after an hour or so of flipping through books, occasionally making noises of interest and adding books to a growing pile to purchase. They ended up leaving with a factual book about animagus theory, a journal detailing a man named Elrond's Account of Becoming an Animagus, a book talking about the different animal forms animagi choose and how and why, and a very vague how-to guide. Harry, as promised, bought the books and the two professors exited the shop.

"And now lunch?" asked Minerva.

"Yes! My treat, but you should pick the restaurant- as long as it's really good," replied Harry.

"I don't think that will be a problem," smirked Minerva, her eyes darting in the direction of a fancy looking restaurant front.

Harry frowned. "I have a feeling we'll need to stop at Gringotts first."

They weaved through the alley until they reached the towering white edifice. Harry had avoided visiting Gringotts since he arrived in the past. He'd opened his account in person, but had most of his earnings sent straight to his vault. He had a small percentage sent to him directly for use. He avoided the establishment, though, because of its magic. When Harry'd gone to set up his account, he felt the building's sentient energy reach out and scrutinize him. The building was alive in the same way that Hogwarts was alive, except that its personality was hostile and guarded rather than quirky and mysterious.

Harry could feel all of the spells, enchantments, curses, and entities protecting the treasure beneath. Not all of it was good magic; Gringotts was clearly designed to be safe by any means. Harry realized how lucky he'd been when he'd escaped the Lestranges' vault with only a few burns (and a dragon). Harry suspected that something in the magic had recognized Harry's intentions and mission and had begrudgingly made his job easier.

Minerva pointed to the words engraved on the silver doors.

"I always wonder if anyone's ever robbed Gringotts successfully…I mean, how would you even go about that?"

Harry smirked "Well, for starters you get a Goblin on your side," he said. "There's all kinds of mad stuff down there. Enchantments, dragons… The only reason I'd do it is, um, to save the world or something…"

"Crockett, you are so pretentious," Minerva laughed. "I bet you reckon you could rob Gringotts if you wanted."

Harry faked a fit of coughing to hide a laugh as they passed through the doors.

"I think a dragon by itself would be too much for you," Minerva snickered.

"Well, actually…I've um…dealt a bit with dragons," said Harry a little indignant.

"I didn't know they had dragons in zoos these days," said Minerva.

Harry tapped his fingers on the counter in mock irritation.

"You're telling me you've killed a dragon, Crockett?"

"Well, no. I, er, rode one once. And I…there was this Hungarian Horntail and I had to take one of its eggs…"

"Rubbish. Show me the memories or I won't believe you."

"Do you want something or can I go do something important?" sneered the goblin from behind the counter, startling both Harry and Minerva.

"Sorry. I would like to go to my vault, please," replied Harry.

The Goblin squinted at Harry for a moment. "Of course, Mr. Crockett," he replied before turning and walking through a door behind the counter.

Harry opened his mouth and shut it again. He'd never met this goblin and Harry'd only been to Gringotts once in this time. How had the goblin known his name? –Where had he gone?

"Where has he gone?" asked Minerva.

Harry frowned. "I don't know."

The door behind the counter banged open and a horde of goblins flooded out chattering excitedly (though "excited" looks rather more like "malicious" on a goblin).

"What's all this?" asked Harry.

"We are going to your vault, sir," sneered one of the goblins.

"Er, all of us?"

"It is an Old Vault, sir."

"What do you mean, I just—" Harry stopped himself from saying he only opened the vault a year previously. That would look suspicious in front of Minerva. He took a breath.

"What, do you need the clankers?" he asked, incredulous.

The goblins all glared at Harry.

"It is not that kind of vault."

"Right, at least that makes sense," said Harry. The goblins started filing towards the door to the cart tunnels. As they went, more stocky figures from around the bank joined them. Harry and Minerva joined the train. Harry tried to count the Goblins—maybe there were fifteen?

"What's this all about, Crockett?" asked Minerva.

"I don't know…"

"Has this ever happened before?"

"I—no."

"How old is your vault? I've never heard the name Crockett before. How deep is it?"

"I don't know, I—"

"Haven't you ever been there?"

"Well, yes I—"

Minerva frowned and pursed her lips.

"Alright, I mail in my pay to deposit, and mail request withdraws. I've never actually been down to this vault. –And it's not my family's vault. I opened it myself a few years ago. I don't know what they're talking about."

"Maybe someone's line ended and a space freed up down there, and you opened your account just in time to get the vault," mused Minerva.

"I have a feeling there are old families that would swipe those very quickly in that event…"

The goblins began loading themselves into a train of carts at least ten carts long. One goblin handed Harry a lamp. At their gestured instruction, Harry and Minerva got into the front of the train, leaving the last two carts empty. Without warning, the train lurched forward and began accelerating downward. Harry scrambled to keep hold of the lamp.

Harry was sure the train of carts moved at least twice the speed of one cart by itself. The train took a left, a right, and stopped abruptly, much sooner than Harry expected. There was a small bronze door in the wall that Harry was sure was designed for goblin entrance.

"Stay in the cart," quipped one goblin.

"Er, is this my vault?" Harry asked.

"No. This is where we have held your gold until now."

"Why didn't you put it in my vault?"

The goblins muttered to each other in Gobbledigook.

"We don't have a key to open your vault."

"I don't have a key…" volunteered Harry.

They ignored him and opened the small door. Some of the goblins filed in and started grabbing great brown sacks that jangled jollily. The Goblins brought the bags back out and heaved them into the carts at the back of the train. When the chamber was empty and the two carts at the back of the train were full, the goblins started piling back into their seats.

Minerva and Harry exchanged a series of glances throughout the stop, and both had thoroughly furrowed their brows by the time the carts lurched forward again.

The train gathered speed and took a right, then another right, and a left and then took the middle fork and Harry lost track. Then the cave wall to the right of the track fell away and the underground lake was exposed, stretching along their side. Harry squinted, but he couldn't se the opposite bank through a blanket of mist.

Suddenly the cart lurched to the right, off the track, straight towards the lake. Harry let out a startled yell, and Minerva held her breath. The goblins were muttering excitedly. Harry still felt a bit like yelling, but he noticed that the cart was still moving smoothly, or as smoothly as it ever did. He looked down, but couldn't see any track—or anything. The cart was rolling along several inches off the cavern floor. Harry saw Minerva peering over the side of the cart, her mouth open.

Then the train was rolling over the undisturbed mirror of water, straight towards the center of the lake. The mist unfolded in front of Harry and Minerva's eyes, and there was still no track beneath the train. Harry looked back and could no longer see the bank, nor could he see the bank in front of the train, if there was one.

And then Harry saw it—a pit in the water. There was an ellipse on the surface of the lake where there was clearly no water. Because of the train's smooth movement, the hole looked like a disk sliding towards them, closer and closer until— the train stopped suddenly along its edge.

Beside Harry and the train was a giant stone well with a radius of, Harry guessed, five yards. Its depth was similar to its breath, making the whole thing a large, round room. The still water rested all around the top of the wall of this sunken room, but not a drop slipped inside. This edge, as Harry had observed, was perfectly circular, but closer Harry could see a slick stone staircase curving down from where the train had stopped.

Without thinking, Harry got out of the cart, stepping into the lake. His foot sunk a few inches into the reflective pool, but hit solid ground. Harry looked down at his feet, ankles deep in completely still water. A hand grasped his upper arm and he turned to see Minerva.

Harry read Minerva's creased face and nodded to her reassuringly before turning back towards the sunken cylinder. They were silent. If Harry hadn't been so caught up in the moment, he might have noticed that it had felt like days since they'd been reading books on animagi.

Harry descended the steps. Before he could whisper "lumos," there was light coming from four places in the sunken room. There were three stone doors along the circular wall, and each had a glowing symbol, as if drawn with the tail of a firefly. One was a triangle. One was a circle. One was a line.

The fourth light came from the floor, and Harry didn't have to look to know what it was.

The symbol of the Deathly Hallows glowed up at him in the dark cavern.

Harry's voice cracked as he called out of the room. "This is my vault?"

A/N: (Cough jump wheeze shark hack nuke splutter fridge sneeze)