Mudblood Sucker

by NightOfMine

At times one is certain of what is to come, yet when they are faced with it they are proven terribly wrong. People are unreasonable and challenges often come with pain. Hermione believes herself above such matters. Still, ever so slowly, she is being enchanted by Bellatrix, who wants nothing but to hurt and kill the Mudblood. That is, until... (See AN - ch.9 - for more information)

6. Ch 6, A Lioness' Denn

A tray appeared out of nowhere and landed with a soft thud on the bedside table. Ollivander clutched at his chest in shock, his instinct made him lean away from the object. However, as his eyes looked at the tray and saw the glass of water that stood upon it, his heart rate slowed gradually. What he did not understand was why Fleur had not brought it up, like all the previous times she had brought him something to drink or eat. Until his eyes fell upon the note which was stuck between the glass and the tray. Curiosity arose in him. He reached out for the paper and carefully nicked it from between the two objects. With his other hand, he reached automatically for his eyeglasses, which he had always worn atop of his head. When he grasped only his hair, he had to remind himself that his glasses had been lost ever since his abduction, like all his other possessions.

The wandmaker sighed in defeat and shifted to sit more comfortably on his bed. Then he held the note as far from his eyes as he could and turned his face this way and that until he was able to read the curling handwriting upon it.

The last words were barely legible, as the writing seemed to be rushed for a hurried departure. He had to squint his eyes to read the words, his lips pursed in concentration.

Dear Mister Ollivander,

I wanted to bring you this cup of water with a few drops of Calming Draught in it, but a sudden change of events has me in a hurry to leave.

Thank you for everything.

Yours Sincerely,

Hermione J. Granger.

He let his hands and the note lower in his lap once he had deciphered the last words. In him, there bloomed a fondness for the young woman. They had talked for less than two hours, yet she had shown him nothing but kindness, integrity and an eagerness to learn. Three aspects of a person's personality that had always been of great importance in Ollivander's opinion.

The wandmaker reached out towards the glass of water, for he needed some sleep and knew that it would only come when his thoughts were not as chaotic as they were now. When the glass was empty and upon the tray once more he felt the promised calmness slowly take over his body and mind. He inhaled deeply and closed his eyes for a moment and prayed to Merlin that the Golden Trio would succeed in defeating the Dark Lord.

---

Harry took the Invisibility cloak from the poach around his neck, whilst Hermione, who was no longer herself but the very image of Bellatrix Lestrange, transfigured her - Fleur's - clothes to become the dress, corset, boots and hand and arm wear Hermione had last seen on the Death Eater.

The Muggle-born was grateful that she did not have to see her own reflection anywhere. For she did not want to see anyone but herself looking back at her, least of all Bellatrix Lestrange.

The group had walked out of the wards that surrounded Shell Cottage, for they made it impossible to Apparate in and out of the grounds. During this walk, the trio had told the Goblin of their plan of action. Griphook had snorted at the absurdity of it, he likely saw the odds of the plan, the holes it contained; yet he did not remark upon it. Something which worried Hermione greatly. There were things they did not know about Gringotts which could likely be of importance to their break-in. However, no matter how either three of them formulated their questions towards Griphook, he did not relent. Instead, he told them over and over again that he was unable to share any of his knowledge about the bank since it was against his vows.

This made Ron furious and he began to accuse the Goblin of foul play, saying that he, Griphook, had come along just jeopardize their plans.

It was Hermione who stopped him in the middle of his rant. And just like before, on the landing in Shell Cottage, she defended Griphook. She told Ron he should not forget that a code of honour could not be taken lightly. That breaking it would be just as disastrous as with the Unbreakable Vow, maybe not at once but in the long-term. And after pointing this out to him Hermione added her own opinion, that she thought it to be honourable of Griphook that, even after his forced escape from Gringotts, he was still loyal to his code.

At this, the Goblin stared at her with suspicion written all over his features; studying her as if she was a potentially fake galleon, and, no matter how he turned her around in his fingers, he was not entirely sure if she was a replica or not. It made her fidget with one of the many lace pieces on Bellatrix' handwear. Absentmindedly she wondered how the Death Eater kept herself from constantly fingering the material.

At last, Griphook let his beady black eyes glide over to Ron with a heavy sigh and croaked, "Mister Weasley," he looked him up and down as if to gauge how much of a threat he was. Likely he saw no threat at all, for the Goblin continued with a sneer on his face, "I can assure you that there is no need for anger. I may not give you the answers you want, but I can promise you that you will have them accounted for once we walk through the doors behind the Grandmaster Goblin's seat. And I will make sure to navigate you through it all, alive and well."

Griphook's attitude and words only bristled Ron all the more, but a pat from Harry on his shoulder made him bite his tongue, to keep his nasty retorts to himself.

"So," Harry started to recount their plan of action in a minimalistic list, "I will carry you on my back, while we are under the Invisibility Cloak. Hermione pretends to be Bellatrix. And Ron will take on the identity of Dragomir Despard, a foreigner of the Middle-East and new to being a Death Eater." Hermione was already busy with the transfiguration of Ron's facial features. The result became gradually visible. All the while Harry continued, "We will Apparate to Diagon Alley, just before The Leaky Cauldron, to be precise. And you will help us get into the vault. In-between the tavern and Gringotts we are likely to walk into trouble; remember to stay calm. We can handle a lot as long as we stay together and with our minds clear of any panic."

He eyed his dearest friend and had minutely difficulty believing that the dark witch who stood before him was in reality Hermione. A mixture of emotions manifested themselves within him. For he was painfully reminded of the fact that he had lost his godfather because of this blasted woman. Yet he still saw the kindness of Hermione seep through the otherwise cold and hateful features of the Death Eater.

Harry ran a hand through his hair in an attempt to make the anger he felt for the real Bellatrix disappear. This was a semi-Bellatrix, this was his friend Hermione Granger. And as if she had heard his troubled thoughts she looked up at him, after the transfiguration of Ron's face was done, and smiled encouragingly. For a second he did not see those dark brown eyes, instead, a lighter brown, Hermione's brown, seemed to break through the darkness. As if by merely looking at him Hermione was able to break through the magical concealment. This was an impossible feat, he was aware that it was not real, he liked to believe it happened. Still, Harry felt grateful for this moment, for her silent support.

Yet he could not help but chide gently, "Hermione, you have to act indifferent, proud and hateful, don't forget that."

Semi-Bellatrix nodded her consent. Her face turned into an unreadable mask, her features as serious as could possibly be.

I hope we can make this plan work, he thought to himself.

As Harry crouched down he felt how Griphook climbed upon his back. The Goblin's small hands clutched at his shoulders with a death grip, luckily it did not hurt him. He watched how semi-Bellatrix threw his Invisibility Cloak over them and stood upright. She readjusted the cloak a bit and then nodded her approval.

Griphook took his chance to speak once more, his suspicion clear in his voice, "Mister Potter, I want to remind you of our deal. After my services the Sword of Gryffindor is mine."

"Yes, yes," he nodded somewhat impatient, "You will get it once we have what we need. You have my word of honour."

"Harry, hold on tight, and you as well Griphook," Hermione said and felt Harry strengthen his grip on her hand, it bordered on being painful. Yet she did not want it any other way, in fear of being separated along the Apparation. Instead, she gave further instructions to the Goblin, "It would be best for you to close your eyes, the first few times are the most horrid ones. And as far as I know, Goblins are not known for Apparating, so... prepare for dizziness and disorientation. It will be over soon though - "

"Hermione," came Harry's voice. His interruption was gentle, for he knew her to be one to give fast amounts of information when nervous or scared, though in most of those situations only when someone asked her something. Normally she would not give these information dumps of her own accord as she did now. Especially thorough their Horcrux Hunt she had learned to keep from rambling, unless necessary.

Harry did not want to think of what this could mean. He knew behaviour spoke louder than words; Hermione was wary of what was to come. And righteously so.

"Yes, right. Here we go..." She closed her eyes and concentrated on their next location. A soft poof was all that one could have heard as the group Apparated away, but the wind made it blend in with nature's melody.

---

Muggles walked past them; they were completely oblivious to the tavern and the group that suddenly appeared before it.

As they opened their eyes the Leaky Cauldron stood before them, it was the very same image Hermione held in her memories. Nothing had changed in its appearance. Not a single sign of deferred maintenance to be seen.

Hermione was glad to see that not all of wizarding England had become a victim of the New Order. There were too many shops that had been forced to close, or worse, of which the shop owners had vanished completely because of their heritage or outspoken opinions.

Then again that also meant that the Leaky Cauldron was visited by more than merely the 'usual, harmless people'. It had likely become a meeting point, a nest, for Death Eaters or, at the very least, Snatchers. Everyone needed a place to enjoy a good meal and a few pints of Butterbeer, even Voldemort's followers. And the Dark Lord was not a fool, he had to keep his folk merry and satiated for them to be willing to abide by his will. Indeed, fear could control masses, but loyal followers brought a cause so much further.

Semi-Bellatrix felt one last squeeze from Harry's hand before their connection broke. And she knew he would take to stand between her and Ron, just as they had planned. That way it was less likely for strangers to bump into Harry and Griphook. And it would not raise any questions when people saw that Ron kept at least a meter distance from Mistress Lestrange, for it was a sign of well-deserved respect, if somewhat fearful.

She steeled herself and brought all her pride to the surface, set her chin high and frowned, in the hope that a moody Bellatrix was just as intimidating as a crazy one.

Semi-Bellatrix took the lead, as one of Voldemort's most trusted followers it was only logical for her to be the first to enter any building.

As she magically opened the door the sound of a full tavern welcomed them. However, the moment she stepped through the small hallway and into the eating area the merriment subsided and ultimately completely silenced. Not a soul dared to make a sound, they did not even cough. Grown men and women, one dressed in shabbier clothes than the other, did not dare meet Hermione's eyes. The latter made sure to stand with her full height and look around as if she owned the place.

She decided to show the evilest smile she could muster, with the utmost classy grace, of course; for everything Bellatrix did was with sashay. Slowly the corners of her mouth turned upwards and she bared her broken teeth to everyone in the room. Her smile as threatening as a wolf who bared its fangs. Some people actually shuddered in their seats. Others paled.

It made one wonder what Bellatrix Lestrange had done to grow this infamous, even amongst the followers of Voldemort.

---

Harry felt like a ghost. One of the Muggle stories, invisible to the eyes of humans, magical or not. Not like the ghosts at Hogwarts, who could be seen by anyone and who exchanged civil words, if the desire arose in them, with whomever they deemed interesting.

Before they had entered the building, Harry had put a Muffliato Charm on himself, just to be sure that he would not make any noise. And now he was glad he had, for the silence that followed after semi-Bellatrix presented herself in the doorway of the tavern was deafening. He looked around, from one man or woman to the other and saw the fear plastered on their faces, not a single soul tried to look defiant.

Though Harry realized something as he observed them. Not one of them wore the clothes of the elite. These people were all low-ranked followers. Probably all of them were Snatchers, if not of even lesser rank if that was possible.

Their fear was understandable, even if they thought themselves just as good in a duel as Bellatrix Lestrange, they would not dare to lift a finger against her, in fear of the consequences. This was something the trio should not forget, for it meant they had not yet faced real danger. Death Eaters would not be scared as easily.

Eventually, Harry let his eyes land on semi-Bellatrix as well. What he saw shocked and slightly disturbed him, for he saw the spitting image of Bellatrix Lestrange; not only in her appearance but her personality as well. Hermione acted just like the real Death Eater.

He watched with sick fascination as one of her mad grins appeared on her lips. Griphook's nails dug through his shirt, a sign that he too was not comfortable with what he saw. Harry bit his lip to keep from hissing out his pain, but he was not even annoyed with the Goblin, for he understood perfectly well that seeing semi-Bellatrix like this brought memories of Malfoy Manor to the surface.

---

Hermione sauntered through the silent tavern without any haste, her heels clicked against the floor with every step she took. And she did something childishly stupid at every table she passed. With a flick of her wrist, the liquid in all the glasses on one table vanished. At another table, she hexed the pepper and salt holders to empty their contents all over the meals. On passing the following table she made the candle dance around and set fire to the newspaper.

By now the silence had grown into subdued dismay, yet no one pointed their wands at her. All men and women shrunk back into the shadows, in an effort to hide from possible pranks and dangers.

She was about to make the hat on the next wizard's head shrink when something pulled at her dress ever so slightly. Semi-Bellatrix twirled around in an instant, her wand ready in hand and an angry scowl in place.

However, for a split-second, she forgot who she pretended to be, at this moment her face was not contorted in hate. Because what she saw scared her, made her realize even more how cruel she currently acted. But it was only the tiniest moment of weakness. Tom's fearful gaze and stammered plea 'if she could please stop bothering his customers' was not enough to make her halt the non-verbal Stunner that made him crash into one of his pantries. He would have some nasty bruises on his body from the impact.

What she said next made her want to vomit, but she knew that if she would not say this her whole act would have been for nought. "Don't you dare touch me, filth!" She spat angrily his way.

---

Harry had seen Hermione's true feelings as they had simmered through the facade in that split-second. It had been a minuscule thing. One could only have seen it if they had bothered to look for it, yet it made his heart hammer in his chest in fear.

His eyes searched through the room to see if there was anyone who would accuse them of being fakes. However, none had their eyes on semi-Bellatrix, they all watched the damage that had been done or looked deliberately the other way, as if not seeing made it all disappear.

---

Hermione looked around and met any pair of eyes with her deadliest glare. None of them held her gaze at all, for no one dared to even look at her. She holstered her wand in a swift motion and barged past the last remaining tables. On her way to the back of the tavern she made sure people shrieked in fear as she made glasses and tankards explode, made candles set all papers alight and transfigured all unoccupied chairs into angry rats.

Once they were all through the backdoor - Harry let his presence know by the soft brush of the Cloak against her fingers - semi-Bellatrix magically smashed the door close and warded it at once. She checked if there were any windows in the walls surrounding them to worry about, there were none.

Thus, when the last of the simple wards - though they were enough to grant them a bit of time and privacy - were placed, Hermione took a shuddering breath and let it go in a broken manner. She clutched the brick wall for support, for she was afraid her knees would buckle beneath her. Her breath was shallow as she rested her forehead against the wall and closed her eyes.

It felt to her as if these few minutes in the tavern had brought her close to a mental breakdown.

Of all the people... I have to pretend to be her. Why couldn' one of Narcissa's hairs have landed on my clothes? She knew the chance for such an incident to have happened back in Malfoy Manor had been non-existent. Since it had not been the youngest Black sister who had circled her like an animal, nor had she been the one who carved with a knife in her arm, and neither had she held that same knife to Hermione's throat. No, it had all been Bellatrix. One of the worst Muggle haters alive. A person who is known for her tendency to taunt, humiliate and defeat anyone on her path, no matter if they were of magical birth or not.

It was not the first time that Hermione wondered what someone had to experience in their life to become such an aggressive person, someone who constantly felt the need to have control over others and to make them suffer. Were such desires born from nature or nurture, or was it a combination of both? It was probably a subject for a never-ending discussion.

She took a deep breath and pulled herself together. As she opened and blinked her eyes, Ron's worried gaze was the first she saw. In an automatism, she searched for Harry's eyes but had to remind herself that she could not see him at the moment, no matter how hard she would try. Though she had a feeling that he stood close to her right. And she was correct, for it was the direction from which his voice came when he spoke softly, "You did well, don't give up now."

"'Well'? Bloody Hell, that is an understatement, really. Back there I thought we had lost our girl," Ron said, a blush appeared on his cheeks from embarrassment for his own words. Ron had his heart on his sleeve, he rarely thought before he opened his mouth; he had always done as such and probably always would. He rubbed the nape of his neck, he clearly did not know what to say next.

Semi-Bellatrix straightened herself, brushed the dirt from her dress and said with a voice void of any emotion, "Either way I am disgusted with myself, so let's get this over with, shall we? I don't want to be her any longer than necessary." She briskly made her way to the wall that was the portal to Diagon Alley. And she tapped in an assured manner on every brick, she had the pattern memorized by heart ever since she had first seen McGonagall do it. Hermione emerged herself in the act of being Bellatrix all over again and marched through Diagon Alley with pride in every step, but not before she had taken down the wards she had placed earlier on the back door of the Leaky Cauldron.

Hermione noticed that Diagon Alley had changed for the worse, to her inner horror. The Leaky Cauldron was not a good representative of the state of the shopping district at all. It may even be the only place not shagged down and neglected. Because the few shops that were still open looked like they did not even want any customers. Windows had cracks in them or were completely broken; stones had been thrown through many. The gloomy weather did not make the atmosphere in the district any better.

And then there were those horrible posters that were plastered on any surface that was big enough.

Undesirable No. 1 Harry J. Potter.

Undesirable No. 2 Hermione J. Granger.

Undesirable No. 3 Ronald B. Weasley.

The photos used for Harry and Hermione were all motionless, just normal Muggle photos, nothing magical about them. They probably had not been able to find any magical photos. She recognized hers to be from her passport, how the Death Eaters had managed to gain possession of that was a mystery to her, for she had it burned with all the other photos from herself within her parents' home. Though she had a suspicion that they had dug the photo up from somewhere in the many databases of the Muggle government.

Ron's photo, on the other hand, viewed him from when he was a bit younger. It was the photo Ginny had taken on a summer day when Harry and Hermione had been at the Burrow. They had visited the small lake near the house and had thrown stones over the surface of the water. Ron had just made a throw when Ginny pushed the button and called his name. Creating an image in which the young boy gazed into the distance and then suddenly looked up with a questioning gaze to the viewer, only to look away in embarrassment. After that, it would play all over again. If it was not been on this poster the photo would have been endearing.

Hermione had never seen the photo before, even though she had been there on the day of the making. It was likely Ron had not liked it back then, preferring not to share it with others.

She absorbed all this information with a single glance at the posters, for she knew she could not take her time to study them. Ron was the only one who let a displeased grunt escape him.

Instead, she focussed her eyes on the high roof of Gringotts. It was said to be the safest place in the whole of Britain or second best, for some had always believed Hogwarts to be even safer. That is, until Dumbledore's death.

In a few minutes, she would be inside of that building, one with thick walls, few or no windows at all and a warding system that rivalled the one of Hogwarts. Breaking in probably was not the most difficult part, it was the escaping the bank part which would promise the most dangerous. She had read enough novels about adventures to know that caves and tombs could have the scariest and most ingenious of traps. The hairs on her neck stood upright at the mere thought.

Gringotts loomed far above them now, they were getting close.

The faint noise of a stumble to her right caught her attention and Hermione had her wand out as she faced the shadows in her peripheral vision. Bellatrix probably would not have reacted as she just had - the Death Eater was simply too self-assured - but Hermione could not stop the reflexes she had honed over all these years, ever since the first DA meeting.

At wand point, stood a man with hollow cheeks and a horrible stench that hung about him. His skin and clothes were covered in dirt. In his eyes, there was a certain glint which brought chills to Hermione's skin.

The beggar reached out to her, his voice a weird mix of a croak and a high-pitched sound, "Children... My children... Where are they?! WHAT HAS HE DONE TO MY CHILDREN!?" The man tried to throw himself upon semi-Bellatrix, but a Stunner from Ron made his stiffened form fall to the ground.

His fear, desperation and anger had all come through his voice and had been just as immobilizing to Hermione as a Stunner. And thereby came the hatred in his eyes... It had felt in that moment like she was a deer in the headlights. Unable to do anything but stand there and accept the consequences.

She mouthed a thank you to Ron for his aid and started to walk away right after that. They had to be far from that place before other beggars would get the same idea.

The words which were spoken by this person - this father figure - had chilled her to the bones. Images of all sorts of grotesque possibilities flashed before her inner eyes, as to what could have happened to the children. Instant dead being one of the kindest possibilities. It made actual bile come up her throat, she had to clench her jaws upon each other to keep it within.

Though they had not even walked further than ten metres when a lump settled in her throat, for her eyes had landed upon what had once been Ollivander's shop. It had completely blackened because of a fire, she had no doubt that it had been set alight by whoever had abducted the wandmaker.

Ollivander's whole life work had been burned down to ashes.

Had he been forced to watch as all his belongings and creations were destroyed by the fire? How many wands had been in there? ...Had it been Bellatrix? Had she used Fiendfyre to make this beautiful shop turn to ashes?

Hermione averted her eyes, she could not study the building for too long. She had to uphold her role, had to play her part. With her eyes on Gringotts, she steeled herself anew. There would be more horrors to face, but she had to keep herself together. This break-in had to succeed and without her, it would end with a lot more destruction and deaths than necessary.

Chin high, a steeled resolve and an alert yet haughty posture. Semi-Bellatrix did not blink in surprise when Travers, a real Death Eater, walked in on them from an adjoined street. She pinned him down with an unnerved gaze as he greeted her and the 'new one'.

"Thought that our Lord had grounded you?" Travers commented, his posture relaxed. Clearly, Harry's earlier assumptions that Death Eaters are not as afraid of one another as Snatchers are, was correct. Harry clenched his jaws to keep his anger to himself, luck was rarely on their side and it could be excruciatingly frustrating. Then again, he had avoided, at times barely, Death quite a lot in his short life. Either way, Harry had his eyes on Travers and his wand drawn, his patience was close to non-existent.

Meanwhile, the real Death Eater continued, "Ah well, you probably have a good reason to be off the hook." He eyed Ron who stood about a meter behind semi-Bellatrix. "Is that a new recruit? Where from? Ireland? They have a lot of redheads there, so I have heard."

"Don't poke your nose where it doesn't belong, Travers," semi-Bellatrix snapped.

The man narrowed his eyes at her and was silent for a moment. Tension electrified the air between the trio, charging to a higher voltage with each passing second. Time in which Hermione had a Protego Duo on the tip of her tongue, in which Harry still had his wand pointed straight towards Travers' torso and in which Ron was torn if he should say something or not.

"Fine," snapped Travers at last, equally fierce, "whatever suits you best." He was silent again and observed semi-Bellatrix a little longer, then he muttered, as if to himself, "Shouldn't have asked, you never were one for small talk." Then he turned towards Ron, though only vague interest was evident, "What's your name, fellow?"

"Dragomir Despair, come from Middle-East Europe." This was one of the few times Ron's ability to mimic sounds and accents came in handy, for he did not falter once in his heavy accent.

"Have you shown this champ to Knockturn Alley? Bet you haven't even been there yourself yet, have you?" He turned back to semi-Bellatrix again, the sour attitude of moments ago seemingly forgotten, "Never one to enjoy such luxuries. Though you should see it, Knockturn has grown and become the main street of this Magical part of London."

"Doubt it has anything of interest. And either - " Hermione said but was cut short.

"Don't say that you haven't even seen the new bookstores yet. Let me show you two around, this new recruit needs to see the good our Lord can do."

What does this man want? Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, she got the inkling that he had feelings for Bellatrix, for he was far too eager to talk to and be with her.

She sniffed in disdain and continued with a harsh tone, "Either way, I have things to take care of." She was about to bid him a good day, but she stilled the words on her tongue, not sure whether Bellatrix would do such a thing. Probably not, too indifferent to people in general, other than her family and her Lord, of course.

Something in Travers' face changed. He tried to mask the hurt, yet failed. Still, he nodded in earnest, "Let me escort you then." The Death Eater straightened himself, ran a hand through his hair, offered his arm and smiled, "Where to, my lady?"

Hermione was flabbergasted and slightly disgusted. He was openly flirting with her. Did he not know Bellatrix was married? No, of course, he knew, everybody did, he just did not care. To her great relieve she saw his eyes turn slightly paler for a second and at once the man began to walk in another direction. The Imperius Curse. Ron had not moved a single muscle, so she knew that it was Harry's doing. She drew her wand and pointed it at Traver's back and Obliviated him before he could disappear around a corner.

The street was empty except for them, but Hermione doubted that no one had seen them. Beggars lived on these streets, they must know how to watch someone without being seen themselves.

She could not set a fast pace, it would be too obvious to anyone that she was unnerved. But she did turn towards Gringotts at once and made to walk with a fast stride, she did not want to waste a single second.

There were no more interruptions, yet it felt as if it took them an hour to get to their destination. Dread for meeting another Death Eater, or being assaulted by ten beggars all at once made Hermione glance at every shadow in the alley.

As the steps to the front doors stood before them Hermione was reminded of the other plan she had come up with during their days at Shell Cottage. A plan she had not told a single living being about. Not even Harry, especially not Harry. For he would never agree, there was no way she could ever convince him of this plan. Since it would take her own life in the process and it would not even ascertain that Harry and Ron a way out of the bank, there was too much about the warding system of the Goblin's that was unknown to wizarding kind and which could probably jeopardize her secret plan.

And now that the thick walls of Gringotts were in her sight and so close, with its strong Goblin-made fortification system, she began to doubt her secret plan's chance of success even more. It was a good thing she had never hinted to its existence.

Harry used the Confundus Charm on the guards who stood beside the doors, just as they had agreed to do. The guards' serious scowls turned into dreamy gazes and the group could easily walk past them. Though before she entered the building Hermione Obliviated these men whilst she walked past the open doors. One could never be too cautious.

The next obstacle would probably prove more difficult: the Head Goblin. Then again, Griphook had assured them that with Hermione as Bellatrix and a well-acted demand to enter her vault it should not be that complicated, it would do the trick.

Semi-Bellatrix entered the hall of busy Goblins with her chin high and a grimace on her face, to convey to everyone that she disliked being here, yet still with a defiant look in her eyes. She could hear Ron walk behind her, the sound of his heavy boots was easily recognized. It was a reassurance, for it meant she was not going in alone.

Despite their entrance the Goblins did not seem to notice them at first; quills scribbled feverously on parchment; all kinds of stamps and different coloured wax was constantly brought from one Goblin to another by one of the servant Goblins; piles of galleons were counted, weighed, studied and put into one bag or another. However, as she had passed a few of the tables Goblins started to look up. With the echoes of her boots that clicked on the marble she practically demanded their attention. A sound which gave Hermione a certain feeling of power, to her utter embarrassment. Slowly one Goblin after the other glanced in their direction and as they recognized her they blatantly stared at her. Not in a shocked way, more like they saw a human for the first time and she was the perfect specimen to observe. Beady black eyes became even smaller as many squinted in their direction. It felt to Hermione as if the Goblins had anticipated her arrival, she hoped that her intuition was wrong.

This is a trap. Bellatrix is here. She can be everywhere, around each corner, behind each object or hidden somewhere in the shadows. We are doomed... She ignored the thoughts with all her might, instead she focussed her attention on the way she walked. Acting as someone else was far more difficult than one might think, for you had to constantly be aware of your movements and behaviour, mimic them in all their different little characteristics. And, most important of all, one should not fall back into their own behaviour.

The banging of a small wooden object upon a larger wooden surface made all Goblins return to their duties abruptly. Semi-Bellatrix let her eyes wander to the Head Goblin, who had been the one to cause the noise. A small hammer laid atop of his towering table. He did not show any interest in her, for he let his attention go back to his work instantly.

The quill in his hand was of a species Hermione had never seen before, it was a large plume of a dark brown colour with amber markings around the edges.

They arrived at the end of the hall, semi-Bellatrix glared to the Goblin who towered above her thanks to his seat. Still, he did not give her the smallest hint of acknowledgement, thus she decided to verbally demand it, "I need to go to my fault and I don't want to waste my time here, so be quick about it."

"Of course, of course, Mistress Lestrange," he did not look up from the parchment he was writing on as he beckoned for someone with his hand. From behind the high table appeared a small Goblin, his head practically laid in his neck as he looked up to the Head Goblin and waited for the next command without any complaint.

Semi-Bellatrix sniffed her dislike and crossed her arms over her chest.

Ron played his part in being a passive-aggressive presence well, for he stood like a looming shadow behind the Death Eater glaring his darkest glares to the Goblins in the room. Which in itself was not of any difficulty to him, he just let his true distrust towards the Goblins show. Something he would never voice aloud in the presence of Hermione, even though he knew that he had never been very discreet about his opinion about them.

Time ticked on endlessly and semi-Bellatrix was about to do something about it when the Head Goblin produced a grunt. It prompted the Goblin at the feet of his chair to act at once. He scurried away to another aisle, to return with a ring on which dozens of keys were attached. And with three more objects in his hands which the small Goblin called Clankers as he thrust two towards the Death Eaters, for them to grab.

The woman snatched one from his hand with a sneer on her face. She had no idea what these instruments were used for other than making a lot of noise; because in her harsh movement the bell clanked against the metal that surrounded it. Which was above the usual decibels. It was something that could clearly make a horrible banging noise if used properly.

She buckled it on her belt and put a Muffliato Charm upon it. Then she looked at the Goblins with one eyebrow raised. When she looked upwards she saw that the Head Goblin had been studying her carefully. His quill laid forgotten on the tabletop. Small beady black eyes squinted down upon her. His crooked and knobbly hands had entwined their fingers as he showed a sneer of his own. "Well, Mistress Lestrange, you are as lovely as ever," he said.

Hermione got the creeps from this creature and knew then that she would likely never feel truly comfortable being among Goblins. Though she suppressed all these thoughts and emotions carefully, her face almost passive in the arrogance that oozed from her. She suspected he was being sarcastic, but it was hard to tell because the creature had such a monotonous voice. In the end, she opted to stay silent and glared up at him.

He nodded in the absence of her response, "I take it the man behind you is to accompany us?"

"Yes, though it is none of your business as to why."

"Wrong, everything that goes on in this bank is my business... Mistress Lestrange." He spoke her title and surname as if it was a simple side note like it was something to be discarded, something useless.

He had an attitude which the real Bellatrix would never tolerate. What would the real woman do, cause pain, make the environment a mess, use one of the lesser Goblins as an example, or 'simply' kill? All these possibilities spooked through Hermione's head in a flash. She had to do something. Hermione knew she had to pretend to be angry, at the very least.

Her crooked wand was once more in hand. She had to impress and make the Goblins feel at least some amount of fear. Thus, she concentrated on her own morals, the ones that clashed with Bellatrix' ideas and believes. Knowing well that it made dark purple sparks fly from the wand's tip. It could burn through whatever flammable material it touched.

This act was usually a sign that a wandholder was losing their control over their magic, but in her case, Hermione just had to think of normal human rights - or her other morals - to cause this reaction. The Muggle-born had come to understand that this was something that was to stay, much like a personal vendetta.

This phenomenon of the sparks was something Hermione had first encountered during her practices in her days at Shell Cottage, and as they continued to appear she had gradually recognized the patterns. Thus, she knew exactly how to trigger the sparks and how to keep them at bay.

Semi-Bellatrix was about to growl abuse at the smaller creature who towered over her when she saw the same paleness appear over his irises. Again Harry had felt obliged to use Imperio and again Hermione was incredibly grateful. Still, she growled abuse at the Head Goblin, since she had to keep her act up for all the others to see.

Harry made sure Bogrod, the Head Goblin, agreed to let them pass reluctantly, but he agreed nonetheless. He waved in the air, a sign for the small Goblin to lead them to the back of the long room, to the door that led to all the vaults in Gringotts, for as far as the trio was aware.

As they walked through the doors their current escort stood up straighter, as if he too was put under the Imperius Curse. But this time not by Harry.

"Stay hidden," hissed semi-Bellatrix before Harry could remove the Invisibility Cloak. Movement in the corner of her eye had caught Hermione's attention. At once she casted a silencing charm around them, in the hope that their fight would not attract any unwanted attention. During this she saw how a light blue spell shot their way, luckily, Ron parried it.

A man with a Death Eater mask came from the shadows, he had a haughty air about him. Ron attacked him at once with a yell and several jinxes. Hermione joined. Spells shot to and fro between them for a few dozen seconds, though the two of them had him down without much effort; all the while Harry concerned himself with the other Goblin who was supposedly their guide.

Both laid immobile beside one another, the Death Eater and the Goblin.

The suspicious thing was that the man had not demanded what semi-Bellatrix was thinking and that he had attacked her without asking any questions. As for the Goblin, he had not even batted his eyes at the sudden appearance of the Death Eater. Had they known her to be a fake all along?

Harry and Griphook appeared from underneath the Cloak. Whilst Ron inspected the man who laid immobilized on the ground. Meanwhile, Hermione turned around and looked at the room they had just vacated from between the open creak between the doors that were left open. She watched the Goblins work from her position in the shadows.

She bit her lower lip, what she was about to do was not an easy task, but she thought it unwise to let them remember. With careful wand movements, semi-Bellatrix began to hex the minds of all the occupants in the other room.

Her shoulders sagged slightly as she whipped the last mind of their recent memories. Obliviating a being from long distances truly was an intense act, for Obliviating is a precise process, which distance only makes it more difficult to achieve. She let go of her breath, positive that she had succeeded despite everything.

As she turned around to face her companions again, she halted midway, for her eyes fell on the Head Goblin who suddenly made a hand gesture. At once a lesser Goblin brought him the portable stairs that allowed him to sit on such a high stool. It was one made of polished wood and had adornments all over it. The craftwork was made to impress and it did.

The Head Goblin hobbled down the steps, once on the ground floor he croaked that he desired to be left alone and that he would return within an hour or two. All occupants nodded and did not object, this obviously happened more often.

She looked around in worry, why was the Head Goblin suddenly coming after them? It was Griphook who caught her eye, immediately he waved away her concern and said, while he pointed at Harry, "Bogrod is the only one besides Mistress Lestrange who can open the vault without much ado. And if we have to believe Potter's expression it is harder to use magic through the thick walls and our splendid security wards within them, so keep your questions for yourself."

The pride in his voice made Hermione raise one eyebrow. Griphook was still loyal, even after his forced departure from Gringotts, yet here he was escorting them to places they should have never been allowed to.

As she heard the door close behind Bogrod Hermione could finally let the act of being Bellatrix go. The sound was as a cue for her. Her posture changed to a more comfortable pose, no chin high in the air, nor haughtiness in her every glance and gesture; just Hermione.

Unbeknownst to herself, everyone felt relieved for the change. Her act of Bellatrix had been uncannily striking and it had unnerved Harry and Ron, even Griphook could not deny feeling more at ease.

Bogrod took to stand next to Griphook. And once Griphook started to walk to the cart it became apparent that Harry had ordered the Head Goblin to follow their escort like he was his shadow.

Hermione may be the most capable of the trio to cast the Obliviation spell, but when Ron pointed at the two rigid bodies on the ground with a questioning gaze she shook her head. It had taken a lot of energy to Obliviate a whole room of beings, these two were up to him. However, she did make sure that Ron did it right, she watched his wand movement and when she saw a wrong gesture she stepped closer and held his hand to move it accurately and on time with the incantations. She ignored Ron's reaction - a blush that spread to his ears - and let go of his hand the moment the spell was finished.

As she turned around she was met with the sight of green eyes, and without meaning to they started one of their silent conversations. Both let their unrest show. Harry looked around, tensed his shoulders and tilted his head ever so slightly when he looked back at Semi-Bellatrix. The feelings behind his body language were as clear as day to her. He was just as suspicious of the real Bellatrix being here, waiting somewhere in the shadows; in the hope that they would walk right into one of her many traps. They both knew something was terribly wrong.

Hermione rolled her shoulders, fidgeted from one foot to the other, then clenched and unclenched her hands, all the while she did not avert her eyes from Harry's. The corners of his mouth curled down, Harry understood that she meant to say that they had little choice in the matter if they should or should not go to the vault. They simply had to.

"Now what?!" Ron snapped, looking from one to the other. He saw them doing it. Something that annoyed and hurt him; yet they still did it, even though they knew that he felt like an outsider whenever he caught them in their silent communication. Why could they not at least try to stop? Why did they have to act like that, now of all times?

Semi-Bellatrix closed her eyes for a moment and turned away from Ron to pretend to inspect the end of the tunnel where the trails disappeared into the darkness. Whilst, in reality, she took a moment to silence the annoyance she felt for him.

Because of her silence, Harry elaborated curtly, "There is something going on, we think this is a trap. We think Bellatrix is here, waiting for us. Somewhere..."

Griphook jumped at once to a conclusion, "Another reason why we should make haste, Mister Potter."

"Or it is just another reason why we should move as carefully as possible," Ron snarled.

"That would take too long, you dump wizard!" Griphook hissed the last words with a venomous voice. His form rigid and haughty.

Hermione turned back around to observe the two as they argued. She did not interfere, because this tension had literally been between these two from the start, it was about time some of the suppressed anger was given a voice. Otherwise, they could jump at each other's throat in the middle of a battle. Still, letting them insult each other now did not grant them any certainty that it would not happen again, not that they would not jump at each other's throats in the midst of battle after they blew off some steam. Because both, Griphook and Ron, were hotheads.

It was Harry who interrupted the argument. Neither was scolded, for he did not take either side, but he did make them stop. Which was the best he could do in their situation.

Hermione sat down beside Griphook, who waited readily beside the lever, for he would drive the cart around. Harry and Ron sat down behind them.

The silence that hung around the group was charged with a mixture of feelings. And it easily mingled with the dense atmosphere that was within the cave-like underground which they sped through, the torches on the cart the only light in the environment they passed. Hermione asked Griphook if he was alright with her extinguishing them, for they were a beacon for anyone that waited for their arrival. He nodded, though he watched her every move as she swished her wand around. Once they were enveloped in the darkness he croaked softly, "It doesn't matter, you could even blind me by stabbing my eyes out and I would still find my way in these tunnels.

"Be wary, after this curve of the rails we will ride through a waterfall," the Goblin said a second later, "you will feel what happens then."

And just as he had said, water hit them after the cart had lunged to the left, yet it did not make them wet. Instead, it took the illusion from Hermione's body. She felt how her flesh, bones and teeth were forced to their original state. It hurt as the cracks and holes in her teeth healed and she could not keep the hiss from escaping between her lips. She clamped her hand over her mouth in an attempt to keep the sound to herself.

When the pain subsided and her body was fully back to normal Hermione noticed how her clothes had not been forced out of their illusions. Did the water not respond to transfiguration? Because that would mean that Ron was still 'modified' as well.

However, nothing of the clothes fitted her anymore. The fabric sat lose around her shoulders and her whole body in general, the dress had even become slightly too long. With another swish of her wand, all garments turned back into the clothes she really wore. Fleur's clothes. She could not help but hug them closer to her skin, she wanted to catch a waft of the French woman's scent, in the hope that it would dampen the nervous uneasiness in her stomach. But it only added another source of unrest, for they had not parted on the best of terms and the mere reminder made her feel miserable.

Hermione was scared, she had felt the fear grow the moment they had walked inside Gringotts. They were about to encounter the woman who had almost destroyed her; had Bellatrix gotten her way she would have had enough time to reduce Hermione's life to that of a potted plant, and that was only if Hermione had been lucky, for it was likely that Bellatrix - if not all the other Death Eaters - knew of far worse possible uses for a Mudblood.

The Muggle-born shook her head in denial, gripped the fabric harder and bit on her lower lip. Bellatrix Lestrange was here. And Hermione was supposed to defend the others and herself with Bellatrix' own wand. There were so many things that could go terribly wrong. This was precisely the situation she had never wanted to be in, the situation Harry had said he would never let her be in. But here they were, about to face the woman that had traumatized her and had left her enough physical scars to prove it.

Panic, she realized, I am letting panic overrule my rationality. This realization hit Hermione hard. She blinked several times, even though it did not make a difference in the darkness that surrounded them. She forced her fingers to unclench from Fleur's sweater and let her mind focus on taking deep breaths.

The rattle of the cart on the rails reached through the cave and echoed off the walls. Would Bellatrix know it to be them? Would she start shooting curses while they still rode so high above the ground? It was not as if their death would mean anything to her. Only Harry's death meant something, he could not die, because Voldemort wanted him alive. Everyone knew this, it was plastered in the whole godforsaken city. This, strangely, was what reassured Hermione that it was unlikely that they would be shot from the rails. This knowledge did not change anything about the particular situation and the emotions it brought forth, though.

"Harry..." she whispered and turned to where she knew he sat, "I..."

"I know," he said, his voice just as soft. Silence. Then suddenly she felt a searching hand touch her arm and once he had found her he settled his hand on her shoulder and squeezed it softly. "Please be careful, stay behind me, don't be too offensive, the wand can make your spells stray. Try to be our defence for as best you can."

"Wandless," was the only word Hermione muttered in response. It may be the safest course for them.

"Maybe, but you - " Harry whispered but he was cut short.

"We're close to the dock, Mister Potter," croaked Griphook.

"Right, draw your wands, I suspect an instant attack. The noise of our cart is almost deafening in this part of the cave." Harry was silent then he continued, "Griphook, Bogrod will be following you every step you take, until I give him another command, please keep him safe. It would be best to stay behind us and in the shadows."

"I am ready," Ron said determinedly. His voice was barely soft enough to be called a whisper. The sound of it was like he promised to protect, that he wanted to be trusted with that responsibility. But would he ever be able to? Truly able? These thoughts were abandoned the moment they crossed her mind. There was no need to scrutinize Ron, at least not here when they were in such a dubious setting.

Hermione merely squeezed Harry's hand before she took to stand in a defensive duelling position. Bellatrix' wand was in her left hand so that she could use her right hand for wandless magic.

This was going to be a horrid battle, for this was lethal. Bellatrix is lethal.

The hairs on her neck stood upright, but she did not let the panic control her anymore. She had to keep a clear mind. In keeping herself vigilant, she listened to anything out of the ordinary, tried to see anything beyond the darkness. But there was nothing.

The cart came to a shuddering halt at the dock and around them, torches sprang to life. Flames burned as if they had never been extinguished. All the shadows that were created by this seemed to taunt them. For they dared to move in suspicious ways, trying to mislead them. Once Ron shot a jinx at one of the dark abysses. Hermione did not look if he blushed in embarrassment when nothing happened, it would only make her vulnerable to an attack.

The group ventured slowly through the carved-out corridors, the wandholders walked in a triangle - aware that they should not believe that Bellatrix would not attack them from behind, with the Goblins in the middle of it, for they were the weakest. One could compare the group to a herd of Bison, who protected the weakest - their calves, the sick and old pack members - by standing around them in a circle, to form an impenetrable wall against the predator.

Of course, they were with far too little to be impenetrable against their current threat. The Death Eater being overqualified in battle. And here they were, with their flaws in their duelling, too young to be any real threat against the woman. But at least they were together.

The tingle over her skin was the only warning she got, she exclaimed for them to stop, but it was already too late when she felt it. What had triggered it was impossible to know, maybe they had stepped on the wrong patch of ground or maybe they had breathed in the wrong direction, either way, an explosion was the result, from right underneath them.

Hermione tried to conjure a shield around them but her wandless magic was too slow. The explosion swallowed them and catapulted them away with a flash of red.

Everything seemed to be in slow motion. Hermione collided with a wall or ceiling, she could not see in the current chaos, and gravity pulled her back to the ground. She was like a ragdoll thrown about the room. Her body ached and shudders ran through her spine from the impact. She had hit her head hard and pain filled her skull. The scent of singed hair and fire penetrated the dense air that surrounded her. Black spots danced before her eyes, she tried to blink them away whilst she laid motionlessly on the floor.

Time was still slowed down, her surroundings wobbled and the shadows on the walls acted out of proportion. It did not make any sense to her.

Her mind processed all that had happened while she still lay on the ground. At the same time, she saw the conjuration of a green spell and in slow motion, it spiralled directly at her. Despite everything Hermione was able to shield herself from the curse. Though she could not lift her hand, she could not even lift her finger to do so. Wandless and non-verball, Hermione would thank Merlin for her control over her own magical defences once she was not as lucid and in the middle of this fucked up situation.

Slowly senses and thoughts began to make more sense. The adrenaline rush penetrated the fuzz the pain created in her mind. She blinked as she saw more colours fly through the air, though no longer were they directed at her.

Profiles of people became clearer and their names, reality and sounds returned to her at once. A moment later she noticed that Harry had positioned himself directly before her. That he had and still defended her against all magic that had otherwise been her dead.

Without a second to waist, the Muggle-born started to stir her limbs, she had to stand up and help fight against Bellatrix, Harry could not win this battle on his own.

Moving did not help the pain in her head, but at the moment nothing in her body felt pleasant. There was not anything else she could do than to push herself to her limits and just get going.

As Hermione stood gingerly, yet defensively, she glanced at Harry, he looked a little hustled from the explosion, for a bit of dirt had gotten on his robes and his glasses sat askew on the bridge of his nose, but nothing more. He had likely been able to conjure a shield fast enough to protect himself from the blast of the explosion. The Goblins did not look like they had gotten a single scratch on them either. Ron, on the other hand, looked dishevelled, to say the least, yet his jaw was set in determination as he shot the best spells and jinxes he could manage, which were some nastily good ones, towards Bellatrix.

Despite this, the Death Eater seemed to dance between all the colours. Was it truly this easy for her?

No, Hermione reminded herself as she steadied herself and got a grip on her balance and magic, if this was truly easy for her she would have defeated us already. This idea gave her hope and hope gave her strength; her energy was renewed, somewhat.

She shot her own wandless, offensive magic, the casting was slower than it would have been with the use of her wand but Hermione truly did not dare use it this near Bellatrix Lestrange. Besides the obvious things that could go wrong, she truly did not want to see and experience Bellatrix' reaction upon seeing her treasured possession in the hand of a Mudblood.

And still, I carry it in my left hand, uselessly. As a light source to a moth.

The Muggle-born's spells scattered around Bellatrix' feet, just like she had wanted, for they were all Bomborda's. It made the stones on the ground explode which created a distraction. Though the sole reason why Hermione had done this was to startle the Death Eater.

Bellatrix did not even flinch, the only response Hermione got for her magic was a snarl and a glance filled with anger. Hermione was barely on time to create a shield big enough to defend their whole group against the force field the Death Eater shot in their direction. The wind rushed past them, howls filled the corridors of the cavern as the gust of wind travelled around and past them, to disappear into the adjoined corridors. Still, the Muggle-born had noticed, to her shock and dismay, how a bit of harmless gravel had come through her shield; Bellatrix is powerful. It was amazing what the Death Eater could do with magic. Hermione berated herself inwardly for the admiration she felt, still the feelings stayed.

Harry and Ron renewed their attack the moment Hermione's shield went down. Colours shot through the air, Bellatrix parried them all and shot her own, far more dangerous, magic in response. Hermione had become their main defence and did her best not to let a single spell come through. She deflected, shielded and shot her own spells to collide with as much of Bellatrix' magic and curses as she could.

She was attuned to both Harry and Ron, knew them too well and could, therefore, predict whatever step they would likely do next. The only ones that were harder to protect were the Goblins, but Griphook had made sure that they stayed in the shadows so far. Still, Hermione glanced at them every few seconds, too afraid that Bellatrix had something horrifying in mind. Like hexing the boulder the Goblins hid behind.

Their battle had been mostly in silence; incantations, grunts and shouts being the only noise from the duellers. No insults were traded. As she realized this, Hermione thought that maybe one of the simplest ways to win could be their salvation in this duel; distraction, more precisely, taunting and infuriating distraction. Everybody knew Purebloods to be proud people, their whole social circles were built on pride, and it was rumoured, or rather a well-known fact, that Bellatrix was among the proudest, together with Lucius and other 'most loyal Death Eaters'.

Hermione tried to think of other tactics they may win with. Yet nothing that came to mind would succeed, there were too many reasons why the ideas could not work. She sighed, she was not one to insult others, but this would have to be an exception.

The first verbal prod left her lips easily, "You can't seem to win from a group made up of Blood traitors and a Mudblood, maybe you are getting too old for this, Lestrange?"

"You wait till I have you in my hands, filthy creature!" Bellatrix shouted, with a dangerous glint ignited in her eyes, "I will scalp you, flay you alive, make you scream - " The insults and threats were accompanied with powerful jinxes and hexes. The woman snarled the words, though not all could be heard over the clamour of their battle.

Harry shot a few jinxes in short succession, to literally show that Bellatrix first needed to defeat him to get to Hermione. After this, the Muggle-born showed her most infuriating and mocking grin. The timing seemed perfect, for those black eyes began to blaze with anger. It was not fury yet, but it would not take much more. Hermione was surprised at how easy it was to rile this woman up.

The Death Eater shot curses their way, shortly followed by a hand gesture Hermione was unfamiliar with, though her instinct told her this was bad. It made the flames of the torches grow and become uncontrollable. The Muggle-born shouted the defensive spell in response, she deliberately used the tone of her voice to serve as a warning to the group, for she had no time to otherwise warn them. First and foremost came their safety.

Hermione forced her Protego Duo to enclose around them like a bubble and held her hands up to keep the magic from disappearing. The conjuration was all within a second, the action actually hurt her and made the black spots reappear before her eyes for a moment. Hermione demanded too much from her body, her magical energy, yet she could not stop now. They would die otherwise.

As the black spots slowly disappeared from her eyesight, Hermione turned her attention to the flames that licked at her magical shield from the outside. The colours were terrifying all on their own, but worse was the heat, for it was smothering them. It was as if they had become minus magnets and the flames their magnificent others, the plus magnets. The oxygen was quickly taken from the air, Hermione could keep them from being burnt but not from being suffocated. Not at the same time anyway.

The Muggle-born braced herself and strengthened her shield as she felt more magic crash against it. Bellatrix' cackle pierced through the air and through the roaring of all the flames. It reminded Hermione of a night of humiliation and helplessness, shudders ran through her spine mercilessly.

She had to reposition. Hermione stood wider, her feet a step further apart, her hands and arms wide and stuck out above her head. It was to give her magic an easier way to flow around her, a technique Minerva had taught her on one of the many evenings she had been with her mentor for extra curriculum.

From between clenched jaws, Hermione hissed, keeping the shield from breaking apart under the constant attack was becoming harder with each passing second. She had a frown of concentration on her face while her eyes scanned the bubble for any weaknesses.

From the corners of her eyes, she saw the Goblins. Despite their hardy personalities, she could see the fear in their postures, the flames were easily mirrored in their beady black eyes. Griphook caught her eyes and she motioned for him to come and stand behind her with a tilt of her head. Hesitation was visible, yet he did as she asked and came with Bogrod from the shadows to stand and hide behind the Muggle-born.

Meanwhile, Harry and Ron rushed to extinguish all the flames without disrupting the shield with their own magic. They had to make their magic wave together with Hermione's and separate without tearing the cadence apart as it went through her shield. It was an incredibly difficult task, to say the least. Hermione's whimpers did not help, she barely refrained herself to plead for them to speed things up. Not that they needed her to, for it was obvious to anybody, her eyes conveyed the struggle she was in, that the pain she was in grew.

"Harry!" Hermione begged as more green curses hit her blue defence, it hurt to redirect such hateful magic. The energy it costed her to keep her shields up was taking its toll on her. Sweat dripped from her hairline down her face. A tremble had permanently manifested in her fingers, her hands cramped.

"Almost, love, keep going, you can do this!" Harry's desperation cracked his voice, he pushed himself to work even faster. When the last flame was extinguished he barked, "NOW!" Hermione let her magic go with a gasp and Harry was the one to shield them at once. Their communication and teamwork were seamless, not a single spell got through their defences.

She took deep breaths as she leaned with her hands on her knees, mindful that she still stood before the Goblins. She had asked them to come from the shadows because she had been suspicious of Bellatrix using the environment against them, she would not abandon them now.

"Hermione, think that you can protect yourself for the moment?" Harry asked, his voice strained because of the force of Bellatrix' attack.

She took one last deep breath and spoke with determination in her voice as she straightened herself and swept sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand, "I can protect us all, you two focus on getting her down." This was a crazy notion after all the energy and magic she had just conjured, she knew, but what else was she to do?

"Ron, are you ready?" Harry yelled.

"Yeah," he barked out as he shot more hexes, glanced at Hermione with concern in his eyes and then steeled himself once more. "Let's get this over with," he barked with false bravado, though it earned another growl from the Death Eater.

When Harry's shield went down a wave of jinxes were shot in all directions from both sides. Hermione was able to disable most, but she could not deny that there were more spells that evaded her shields.

A hiss from her left caught her attention, but she could not take her eyes from Bellatrix, who shot an onslaught of curses at them. As Hermione redirected a few and made others collide with a Protego, she whispered Harry's name inquisitively, she wanted to be sure he was alright.

"Nothing, not hit by anything. It's Him. Angry," Harry huffed out between breaths as he duelled with the Death Eater, "He is becoming very angry. Just now realizing - " he was barely able to dodge a green jet, " - that things are not going as He had planned."

Another hiss, this one barely audible to Hermione, yet her ears were attuned to the sound. She could not help but hear. For it was feminine... From a woman that never showed any emotion other than anger and hatred. Yet Bellatrix' hiss was one of surprise. Whatever had the woman make such a noise? Or had Hermione imagined it? For nothing in the Death Eater's facial features conveyed any feelings of shock.

She took a deep breath to prepare herself, her eyes sought those dark brown ones, but they would not look at her. Bellatrix was too busy with the battle, trying - and succeeding - to parry, attack and defend all at once. Was Bellatrix deliberately not looking at her? Hermione's grip tightened on her wand and that gave her the most foolish idea she had during this duel. Then again, had she not carried it in her hand for this very purpose from the start? Hermione felt as if she was about to dive into ice-cold water. "Haven't you noticed something, Lestrange?"

"Indeed I have: why the fuck have not you died already, Mudblood? Are you truly such a miserable dueller that all you do are the defences?"

"You have no idea what you are talking about, bitch!" Ron yelled and shot several spells.

Bellatrix' comment hurt Hermione's pride, though she did not rise to the bait. "You are truly obnoxious, at least there is one thing Skeeter got right," Hermione said between casting Protegos, though not loud enough for Bellatrix to be able to hear. But Harry and Ron did and it made the first chuckle and the latter grin despite their current situation.

That was something Bellatrix could hear and see, and it was easily deduced that Hermione was the cause of this. Bellatrix' eyes were sharp and hateful as they landed upon her. It brought forth the feeling of rebellion in the Muggle-born, she did not waver in returning the glare.

Another hiss from Harry and Hermione only needed one word to know for sure, "Again?"

"Again," Harry repeated, one hand on his forehead. Another vision of Voldemort.

A tremble in Bellatrix' hand, her eyes ever so slightly bigger. Hermione saw it happen and knew that the Death Eaters must be summoned at the moment. Yet the battle continued, she bit her lip and could not help but feel hope for this to end soon.

"I believe he is summoning the Death Eaters," Harry said to no one in particular as he shot jinxes towards their opponent.

"Yet this blasted witch won't leave," Griphook spoke from behind one of Hermione's legs and glared daggers at Bellatrix. Somewhere during the battle, he had placed his hands on the aforementioned leg, to be a sort of support to her. It was a gesture that had heartened her, gave her the feeling that they were an actual team, even with all their differences.

Hermione yelled, "You are truly blind, Lestrange, maybe you should think about retirement."

"What the fuck are you talking about?! You filthy Mudwhore! Stupid, helpless, useless, uggl- " the insults halted as those eyes became as big as saucers, Bellatrix' eyes had, finally, landed upon the object in Hermione's left hand.

Despite the shock, Bellatrix was able to function, though she had her eyes trained on the wooden object. She avoided whatever came her way with simply sidestepping or conjuring whatever kind of shield was needed. Though Hermione noted that not a single curse, or any other offensive spell for that matter, came from the Death Eater anymore.

With her eyes trained on the wooden object Bellatrix opened her mouth, the shrill sound of her voice nailed Hermione on the spot she stood. She had never before heard someone make a demand with such an angry desire in it.

"Give me back what is mine!"

"Not a chance!" Ron yelled, his fury towards this woman showing in his voice. He was truly livid.

Hermione gripped the wood tighter, but made sure her face stayed impassive; which was not difficult, for she was of the opinion that this had become far too emotionally complicated in the middle of battle. It was far easier for her right now to shut down her own emotions and just act with her rational mind. Later there would be time to try and understand. If she would make it out alive... With the growing fury in Bellatrix' eyes that was something to doubt.

The Death Eater took a step towards them and demanded once more that the wand was to be handed over to her at once. It even seemed that the woman believed they would.

"Purebloods," Hermione said exaggerated.

Somehow, somewhere during this argument, the spells to and fro had stopped. Harry and Ron stood ready to attack any moment, Hermione was ready to defend and Bellatrix just looked torn. Something that indicated that there was more going on than met the eye. Hermione had never before envied Harry for his connection with Voldemort; if only she could better understand the situation. Yet at the same time, she told herself that she was a sick person to envy such a horrid 'connection'.

It was just that her desire to know and understand what was going on in the dark witch seemed fathomless.

Shouts and insults were traded between Harry and Ron and Bellatrix. Hermione listened to them all but no longer commented, not even when they were directed at her. She just stared right back into Bellatrix' eyes, with a face void of emotion. And maybe this was what infuriated the Death Eater the most, for after the umpteenth insult about her heritage Bellatrix accompanied her words with green and dark blue curses. A snarl on her lips, mane dishevelled and eyes on fire with rage.

All were deflected, for the trio defended as one.

As Harry tried to cast another spell, for he had enough of this weird argument, something strange happened. Both he and Bellatrix gasped as one. Bellatrix balled her hands, jaw set and her eyes wild. Meanwhile, Harry seemed to have completely forgotten about the jinx he had been about to shoot, instead he gripped his head. Hermione had to redirect his spell away from Harry and made it crash into the ground between Bellatrix and them to ensure his safety.

Unfortunately, Hermione's moment of strayed focus created a hole in their defence and the Death Eater took the opportunity at once. A storm of common jinxes was directed at Hermione, the Goblins and at Ron.

The Muggle-born was on time to defend the Goblins and herself, thanks to Griphook's hold on her leg, for his grip tightened painfully as a warning. Ron, not having to defend others, could evade the magic with a sidewards jump.

Harry hissed in pain again, his voice strangled. He stumbled towards Ron, who held him upright and whilst he kept eyes on Bellatrix. With one hand he supported Harry and with the other, he was ready to defend.

Any noise Harry made was drowned out by a sound that would haunt Hermione in her wakeful hours.

Bellatrix howled in pain, seemingly without a cause, at least none they could see. However, one did not need a mental connection to have an inkling. The Death Eater screamed her denial, that she could not go now, that she was too close to victory, that He could not do this to her, that this had all been for His cause.

The inner conflict that followed caused tears to stream over gaunt cheeks. Bellatrix screamed as if in pure agony, dark brown eyes did not seem to focus on anything as her hands went into her own mane where they tugged at the roots of her hair.

The hollow sound made shivers crash through Hermione and she felt ill, yet she could not avert her eyes. She needed to understand and therefore did not want to look away.

Bellatrix repeated words without a chronical order, then, all of a sudden, her eyes focused again. From the corner of her eyes Hermione saw Ron readying himself to shoot a spell, she raised her free hand to keep him from doing anything.

Dark brown eyes gave a forlorn and longing glance at the wood in Hermione's left hand before the Death Eater disappeared in a puff of black smoke and a bang that shook the walls. Common knowledge was that Apparition and Disapparition were not meant to be possible in the bowls of Gringotts. Yet, obviously, Bellatrix had found a way around the wards. At least for the latter.

Or, Hermione thought, it has something to do with the dark mark. Unfortunately, it was unlikely that she would ever come to know the truth.

Silence, in which their heavy breathing was all that filled the air.

Hermione blinked and looked around the corridor carefully, suspicious of all the shadows. There were holes of varying sizes in the ground and walls, rubble covered the floor and scorch marks were all over the ceiling and other surfaces in general, except for where their bubble had been.

We have survived, the thought made her inhale deeply, no one has died. No one is severely hurt.

"Why did you wanted me to stop, Hermione? That bloody bitch could have been lying unconsciously on the ground now," Ron looked angry, but he looked tired too. And as Hermione eyed him she saw that he had a small head wound and that he tried to avoid leaning on his left foot. Maybe the last of Bellatrix' jinxes had done more damage than Hermione had realized, or they could be injuries from the explosion.

"Don't underestimate Lestrange, Ron," she said matter of fact and thought, your skill is non-existent compared to hers.

"Is you had shot anything she would only have had more reason to stay, at least now she is gone," said Griphook gruffly as he started to move around a bit, though he stayed close to them. Meanwhile, Harry could stand on his own legs again, though he had his hand still pressed against his forehead, a grimace on his features.

Slowly they started to move about, with Griphook and Bogrod at the front. The trio followed them cautiously.

"Stop walking like fools!" Griphook's voice held annoyance, "This is ridiculous. There are not any more of those traps. Mistress Lestrange would never be able to set them. Our - " He cut himself short, his lips tightly shut. His eyes filled with stern disdain, he would not allow himself to continue, he would not disgrace his code of honour.

The trio looked at each other, Harry was the one who nodded and said, "If you are sure."

They walked on, still cautiously, but without the same feverous glances at everything.

Yet as they went further into the cave Hermione felt the hairs on her neck stand on end and yelled for everybody to stop. Everyone halted at once, they did not dare to move a finger.

This time she had Bellatrix' wand in her right hand and flicked it through the air, a white fog came from the tip of the wand and became gradually invisible. Which, at the same time, enabled for a shimmering web to slowly appear, it hung at the ceiling. The creation was a complicated construction of strings. Hermione was mesmerized by it and would have spent hours, if not days, to observe the formula. To find the answers to the riddle that had revealed itself before her. What had Bellatrix used to create this masterpiece?

Ron had a smug sneer on his face as he looked down upon the Goblin, "No more traps, you said?"

"Shut it, Ron," Harry mumbled as he looked around, a frown on his face.

Griphook glared murderously at Ron but said nothing.

Hermione had stars in her eyes, unbeknownst to herself she had a smile on her face. She reached outwards. As if she wanted to actually touch one of the strings. Harry couched, his eyes tentative and worried, "Hermione, I take it that you can dismantle this... whatever it is?"

She looked at him in silence for a moment, then she nodded. Reluctance was evident in her eyes. She could not help but want to dissect the trap and take a closer look at the combination of curses and charms and how they were interwoven.

"Can you protect us while I get to work, just to be sure?"

Harry nodded and put up a strong shield, another bubble. As Hermione let her hands hover in the air, she grabbed at the air, pulled a bit, let go and grabbed some of the other strings. Some would glow, others would cause pain, but as long as Hermione kept her mind focussed she could discharge most of the magic.

The whole ordeal took her longer than her companions had expected, but they had no clue what this was supposed to be in the first place. Thus, they kept quiet and watched her work.

Another hiss from Harry interrupted the silence, but it was the words he spoke thereafter that made Hermione speed up her work, "He knows, Lestrange has told him..."

It was with a slight regret that she dismantled the trap. The web of enchantments dissolved in dust and they resumed their walk at once. No time to linger, who knew what would get to them if they stayed here much longer?

Griphook took the lead again, he had grown annoyed, wanted to be out of here.

Before he led them around a corner he turned and motioned to the clankers on his (for he had taken the clanker of the lesser Goblin), Ron and Hermione's belts. "We need them now, shake them hard. Follow my example. Now hurry, if Mister Potter is right we don't want to be here in another half hour."

In one hand she held her wand, in the other the clanker. As she followed her heart skipped a beat, because before them towered a giant dragon. Hermione was astounded. She just stood there, too enraptured to continue walking.

Over the years she had taken to sit down on several, very rare occasions with Charlie, who was not often present at Weasley family gatherings or birthdays, to talk about dragons and all that he had experienced thus far in Romania. And he had always been glad to tell all kinds of tales or give information about all the different species which were still alive.

But this creature did not look anything like the majestic Ukrainian Ironbellies she had seen sketches, drawings and even a few moving photos of. The Ukrainian dragons normally had black scales with silver highlights on the belly and other smaller silver-white markings scattered over their whole body.

This poor creature did not even come close to the images. It was of a matted grey colour, with only a handful of blackish scales here and there. Not to start about the scars that littered its body, head and wings; as if it had been whipped by a white-hot iron cord its whole life. From its neck hung metal chains - dirty and heavy looking - with seemingly no real purpose other than to make it impossible for the dragon to look up or stretch out its neck to its full length. Its eyes had a milky gleam over the irises creating the impression that it was blind or close to it.

All these signs were proof of the horrible life it had lived thus far. In a cave that was not its natural habitat, without the needed nutrients in its diet and the abuse it had endured. Hermione became enraged, to say the least, her sympathies for the Goblins and the discrimination they received in the wizarding world was momentarily completely forgotten.

She clenched her jaws together to keep from demanding retribution on the Ironbelly's account. Though it did not keep her from creating a whole new escape plan.

An awful noise pierced through the damp air and made not only Hermione startle, to her horror she saw the creature curl up, whilst trying to sprint away from the people creating the sounds. It was only then that Hermione saw the shackles around the creature's ankles. For the dragon could not even move ten metres away.

It was not a surprise to her that it was the clankers that made the noise, the effect it had on the dragon made her dislike the items greatly. She decided to not participate in it, instead of using the device herself she jogged to catch up with the group.

"You don't approve of our methods, Miss Granger," it was not voiced as a question, yet Griphook looked up, expecting an answer.

"I haven't said anything."

"You don't have to," he sneered slightly, "when you aren't acting, your thoughts are easily read in your features."

She did not comment on that, she did not want to have this conversation.

They arrived before the Lestrange's vault without any other incidents, though Griphook grew more agitated with each passing minute and this was obvious to anyone. It made the tension in the air double.

As Bogrod was made to open the door they all watched without making a single sound, Hermione did not even dare take a breath.

The torches in the vault itself did not lit up until they stepped inside.

What greeted them behind the grant doors was wealth; an immense, unhealthy amount of gold, the most exotic magical hides and stuffed creatures Hermione had ever seen. On the walls hung shelves littered with potions and books, she had no doubt that some were centuries old. It did not affect the Muggle-born much, she generally did not envy the rich - no, her envy came for those with knowledge, experience, and natural skill - but she could not help the desire to want to browse through the books, to see what crude dark magical rituals would be described. She forced her eyes from the shelves and took part in the conversation that was currently going on.

She listened to Harry and Griphook argue about how to proceed from here. Apparently, there were certain curses active in this vault. Her eyes wandered over everyone in the group.

Harry looked as tired as she felt. His hair was a mess, dirt and sweat had mingled and dried upon his skin, his glasses were still slightly askew and his clothes were torn and scorched at places. Luckily, he had only a few visible injuries, none which made her worry.

Ron's health did worry her, for Bellatrix jinx - or the explosion - had caused him to limp. Though determination showed in his whole posture, he would rather die than give in to the pain. However, she saw more in his eyes than mere determination. And it was something that made her worry. For she saw greet as Ron looked at all the gold. He had been poor his whole life, using and wearing second-hand stuff all his life. But she had not realized it had bothered him this much, she had always been under the impression that the Weasley's made a good enough living - Molly being ever the successful negotiator and businesswoman regarding everything that had to be bought.

She averted her eyes, she no longer wanted to see this side of Ron. The Goblins were her next culprits. One stood stoic and showed no sign to hear anything or be aware of anything that happened around him, the other made curt gestures whilst he spewed heated words to Harry.

Hermione opted to interrupt at last, "Griphook, what about Bogrod, he is the Head Goblin, should not he be allowed to -"

"It is not as simple as you like to think, Granger," he snapped, yet a thoughtful frown creased his forehead. His beady eyes travelled to the other Goblin and stayed there for a while. Then his stern gaze pierced Hermione's, "Tell me, is there a spell that can keep someone in the air? And what about the magic that can contain an object to a place and make it impossible for it to grow, or, let's say, multiply?"

"Yes, yes and maybe. The latter depends on what it is exactly and since we are in a vault full of objects, small and big, I have the feeling that you would want most to be affected by the spell, to keep them all from multiplying? But I can tell you already, that is too big a feat for me to accomplish, I would need a hand, an experienced one. And no, Harry and Ron don't even know the incantation, since it's not taught in our school's curriculum. The only reason I know it is because I had the luxury to have had extra training in certain subjects. Charms being one of them." As she said this her mind raced to think of other possibilities, thus she continued without taking a breath, "However, it wouldn't be impossible for me to conjure a simple barrier between objects, it may be invisible but I believe that you would feel it when you passed through it. Sort of like a warning?"

She got a nod from Griphook and in the silence that followed he observed the pile of gold.

Suddenly Harry clutched his head with his hands, a surprised shout accompanied it. Hermione reached out for him and let her cool hand nestle comfortingly in his neck. Her thumb caressed his skin. Slowly she felt the tension in the muscles underneath her hand lessen.

He let a heavy sigh escape him as his eyes met hers. Neither one smiled, they would just be fake. Instead, they looked back at the others and their environment simultaneously. Somewhere in this trophy room, their desired object was supposed to be. The heirloom of Madam Hufflepuff.

"Why can't it just be simple for once," Ron grumbled as his eyes searched through the sea of objects, "Just a simple Accio would be great right now."

"Don't even bother," Griphook snapped, "we know how to make things impossible."

"Yeah, impossible like before, with Bellatrix' second trap, right?" Ron argued.

"Could you two stop this," Harry said exaggerated, "this is not the time."

"Harry," Hermione felt panic rise at the new thought that had appeared in her mind. He heard it in her voice and had his alert eyes on her at once. "Harry, what if she has transfigured or charmed the cup?" She had not thought of this before, it was such a simple feat that it had not occurred to her at all. Now the idea held her in an icy grip.

He put his hand on her arm, "Hermione, look at me. Let's not start with doom-thinking, right now we have to find it, she may have transfigured the object, but we will feel the energy radiating from it either way. I bet no Confusion Charm can withhold such a powerful object, not when part of His soul is put into it." He rubbed her arm softly, he tried to look encouraging, but all Hermione could see was his frown and the tiredness in his features.

"Right," Harry took the lead again, "Enough searching from this point of the room, we need someone in the air." His eyes landed on the Goblins.

A few minutes later Griphook and Ron were in the air giving instructions to Hermione and Harry which way they should be directed. And it was not long before Ron gave a triumphant yell, he instructed Hermione with hope once more evident in his voice.

Meanwhile, Griphook was brought back to the ground, but the Goblin was still above the last metre of gold when Harry yelled in pain and gripped his head. This broke his concentration on the spell and to Hermione's horror, she saw Griphook land in the mountain of galleons.

Galleons multiplied and the Goblin screamed in pain, yet Hermione could not do anything for she had to keep Ron in the air. Which costed all her willpower at this moment.

An outraged shriek came from behind. Bogrod had obviously freed himself from his mental confinement. Yet, before he could do anything Harry had his wand in hand and produced Imperio anew. Then he rushed to the rescue, he lifted Griphook from the pile, who was now covered in blisters; his face was contorted in anger and pain.

Harry gave his sincere apologies as Griphook landed on the safe ground and explained himself, "He has found out that we have got knowledge of his Horcruxes and is about to look them all up..." a moment of hesitation, then he admitted, "He is furious."

At these words, they all felt the doom for what was to come, intensify in the air.

Hermione could not respond, for she had to rush Ron through the air, coins kept multiplying and she truly did not want more victims of blisters.

"Harry, my shoulder bag. A burn salve should be somewhere in there." It was one of the supplements Fleur had insisted she should take with her. Hermione had raised an eyebrow as Fleur had put it in the bag, she had not thought it likely for any of them to get burned. Now she was very grateful to Fleur's foresight. Because as Ron was finally on the ground himself, she turned to see that the worst blisters on Griphook's face and hands had been tended to. At some places, it had been applied too thickly, but that would not have any negative effects. Right now she wanted to get out of this vault before the still multiplying galleons would swallow them whole.

And everyone else had the same idea, before long the five of them stood outside the Lestrange vault. From there on Harry wanted to rush to the next step of their current mission: the escape. He looked at the cup in Ron's hand and patted him on the shoulder, thankful that they had found it despite all odds.

Hermione helped Griphook with the salve, even though the Goblin snarled at her and tried to swat her hands away. After half a minute of persistent stubbornness on her part he gave up with a horribly long and exaggerated sigh, "Isn't it humiliating enough already, Granger, that the Goblin was the only one to come to harm in one of the vaults he has protected most of his life?"

She gave a nonsensical hum, relieved that she could finally tend to his wounds, it made her feel less guilty, even though she had done nothing wrong. As a response she said sincerely, "I just want to help."

Someone opened her bag and put something in it. It became significantly heavier, which should not be possible with her Weightless Charm. It had to be the Cup of Hufflepuff. Griphook eyed the person behind Hermione and said in a harsh tone, "Mister Potter, the Sword is mine."

Harry opened her bag again and said without any ill will, "Yes, here you go."

If the Goblin was surprised he did not show it as the weapon was carefully handed to him, during which Harry urged for them to make sure they had everything so they could leave here as soon as possible. For he still felt Voldemort's rage and flinched every so often.

Meanwhile, Hermione closed the pot of the salve as she listened to Harry. When he was done she spoke up with a casual tone, "I want to escape with the Ukrainian Ironbelly, it is wrong to leave it here."

Griphook looked at her with a sharp turn of his head, the shock was visible in his eye and his voice was full of disdain, "No, it belongs here, we have trained it for decennia!"

At the same time, Ron's eyes bulged at the proposal, "Are you bonkers? We will be fried before we could take a single step towards the beast!"

She turned towards him, her face portrayed that she would fight for this cause to her death. "Don't speak of it so harshly! Dragons are intelligent creatures and even if they weren't you shouldn't - " then she was interrupted.

"Guys there is no time to argue, we have to get out of here!" Harry actually shouted from all his frustration, a second later he clutched his head and landed on his knees. "Arg!"

Hermione forgot her anger at once and reached out to her friend.

Then multiple things happened all at once. A shrill, panicked scream came from behind the two, it was Griphook. A thundering roar erupted ahead and made the ground and walls shake, soon followed by a noise that sounded suspiciously like a blazing fire, the red glow that accompanied it affirmed it. Screams were the response. And shouted incantations were followed by another thundering roar.

Harry turned away from it all, for a moment Hermione thought he would dash back into the vault, but then she saw the last slivers of movement that conjured the Imperius Curse. That was when her eyes fell on the bloodshed that had happened behind them.

Both Griphook and Bogrod were bleeding vigorously. The latter being stabbed in the gut with the Sword of Gryffindor, Griphook's hand still on its haft as he staggered backwards, whilst he had his other hand pressed against his neck. From underneath streamed blood, his clothes were already drenched.

The sword came loose with a sickening sound. Bogrod's eyes bulged at the pain, even with the mist that covered them. A gasp came from him, his eyes and head twitched ever so slightly. His clothes near the wound slowly reddened. Yet he kept standing, he was like a statue covered in red paint.

The unfamiliar voices and the ground shaking roars merged into the background as Hermione lunged forward and started to heal Griphook at once. She was just in time to catch the Goblin as he fell to the ground. Who did not try to stop her this time. His face was drowned of colour, his eyes unfocused.

Whilst the Muggle-born did her best at healing, Harry and Ron started for the battle that came consistently closer to them. We have been cornered in no time at all, Hermione thought helplessly as she pressed on the wound in Griphook's neck. Somehow it would not close, the flesh did not respond to her spells, much like her own wound on her arm. Could it be? Her eyes widened in fear, they searched in the shadows around Bogrod, in the hope to see the fallen weapon. She found nothing.

The Goblin in her arms tried to mutter something, blood gurgled in his trachea. The sound made her stop breathing. Whatever she tried, nothing worked. His blood was all over her hands and coloured her clothes red wherever it landed.

With one hand outstretched inside her bag, she summoned a salve - her last resort - with the other she supported the Goblin, who all but lay in her lap. Fleur had made her promise to only use this salve when the word on her arm would become unbearable. This was something she was willing to break a promise for.

Griphook's grip on her sweater loosened, his lips moved, eyes unblinking and unseeing, blood everywhere.

"No, no, Griphook," she whispered fiercely, desperate "don't give up. Stay here!"

Even with the clamour of a battle around them, Hermione instantly knew when - despite the salve she anointed to his wound - Griphook exhaled his last breath. The tension in his muscles gradually lessened. His lungs no longer struggled for the intake of oxygen.

The worst thing was that Hermione had to watch how the wound in Griphook's neck finally started to heal; too late, if only she had been faster to -

There was no time for self-punishment.

Hermione shook her head forlornly, muttered her sincerest apology and carefully laid Griphook down on the ground. She stood and walked before the other still standing and Imperiussed Goblin. Bogrod's eyes and head twitched still, and his body shook consistently.

"Harry, let the Imperius Curse falter!" Hermione yelled over her shoulder, all the while keeping her eyes trained on the only Goblin left in their midst.

Harry did not question anything, there was no time, the battle was too fierce. Still, she saw in a glance that Harry and Ron managed. Their opponents were likely the Snatchers from the tavern, the followers that had been closest to Gringotts. Though Hermione could not look if her assumptions were correct.

"Hermione," Harry yelled between his conjured spells, "hurry!"

She gulped, could not say anything in return. The Muggle-born had already been acting on instinct this whole time, she did not know how to speed things up without making grave mistakes.

A shot of adrenaline went through her as she watched the Goblin stumble backwards and fall on the ground. The Imperius was broken. He clutched his stomach and piteous sounds came from his mouth.

Hermione reached out to Bogrod, but she had not even touched him as he crawled out of reach.

"Don't touch me with your filthy magic, witch!" He screamed, the last word venomous as if it was the most horrid insult one could receive. Mudblood echoed in her mind.

She did not respond verbally, instead, she reached out again, with healing magic already circling around her fingers.

The slap to her hands was surprisingly painful, sharp nails had slashed at her skin.

This time Hermione did retract her hand, but Bogrod clutched her wrist forcefully. His nails dug into her, a sneer on his lips as he leaned closer. He wanted to hurt her, to scare her, to see her in tears, "You won't survive. He will kill you, eventually, and I will laugh as I watch him torture you."

Blood and spit landed on her face as he voiced his wish to see her dead. Her eyes widened, not in fear, but in pain; his grip was absurdly strong and painful for someone who sat presumably most of the day behind his desk.

She did not grant him the satisfaction of scaring her, instead, she deflected his threat with a question, "Why didn't you just help us? You knew from the start that I wasn't the real Lestrange, didn't you?"

He barked a humourless laugh that ended in a cough, more blood came from his mouth. "No I didn't," he admitted eventually, "You entered the hall just like her. The spitting image of Mistress Lestrange. It wasn't until you started to try and demand that I realized you had to be fake."

"But then why!?" Hermione asked exasperated, "If you had helped us, these people -" she gestured at Griphook and the ongoing battle, "- didn't have to die. You wouldn't be dying like this."

"It wouldn't have made a difference," a fierce hatred shimmered in his glassy eyes, "you are all the same; evil, self-proclaimed saviours."

"But... But we are the good guys?!"

"Are you?" A rhetoric question, "All I see are wandholders; stupid humans, who think themselves better than anyone else." Bogrod couched and tried to remove the blood from his lips with the back of his hand. His face contorted in pain as he did, his grip on her wrist weakened and he slumped slightly. Blood loss would be his death at this rate, though the Muggle-born would not be surprised if his organs' fluids were destroying his insides as well. Bogrod continued his croaked tirade, despite the obvious pain he was in, "It's like choosing between two evils, one even worse than the other. And I choose the better of two evils."

"How can you say that? How can you think of us as the worst?! We are the ones that want to defeat that bastard! We are on the good side!" Hermione truly did not understand this Goblin. But she did not stay any longer, for a shout from behind reminded her of the situation. If Bogrod would not let her heal him, to try and keep him from dying, then she would not waste a single breath. There was a battle to be fought and they had to escape.

She yanked her wrist from Bogrod's weakened grip and ignored the insults that sprouted from his lips. As she turned she carefully picked Griphook's body up, laid him in the shadows of a big boulder and placed charms to keep his body intact and from decomposing. Without a second thought, she laid the Sword of Gryffindor on his body and made his hands hold the haft.

Then she turned towards the battle and sprinted towards it, for she had decided in a split-second that she should create the distraction that would enable them their escape. And she could only be a distraction if her entrance was sudden and massive.

Harry and Ron battled still and she warned them with a short yell, "Behind!"

From the shadows she leapt, mindful to avoid incoming spells. And whilst in mid-air, she created a force that shot forward, towards the assaulters. It catapulted most backward, a handful had been fast enough to defend themselves, but still, they lost their balance, stumbled and fell.

The moment she landed she sprinted towards the dragon. Harry had already foreseen this, he was ahead and grabbed Ron as he passed him.

Meanwhile, the Ironbelly slammed its tail at all who came too near and breathed fire at the fools who had taken the responsibility to keep it distracted. A few dozen bodies, some still burning, littered the ground around it, but the dragon was not unscratched either. For it had one hind paw raised and close to its belly. As Hermione neared she saw that one of its fingers stood at an awkward angle and knew it to be broken or dislocated.

Harry was the first to cast a Revulsion Jinx at one of the shackles around its ankles, the loud bang of destroyed metal echoed through the cavern. And the result was immediate. The Ironbelly slashed out with its released paw and hit several of its assaulters. Panic rose in the dark-clad opponents, most screamed in fear and a few started to back away and run for their lives.

Ron destroyed the last shackle, now only the chains around its neck remained. First, the trio had to get on its back, but how?

Another burst of blazing fire came from the dragon's mouth, it passed over the trio's heads and caused ruckus behind them. None of them took the time to look behind, instead, they started to climb the moment they could launch themselves at the scaled body. It was not an easy task, for the dragon never halted in its movement, but that also ensured that the trio would not be harmed by spells either. In the back of her mind Hermione wondered if the dragon had purposefully defended them just now.

Somehow they managed to settle on top of its back, between its massive shoulder- or wing blades. All which came afterwards seemed to happen in the blink of an eye.

Harry destroyed the last chains, Ron deflected the jinxes that were shot their way and Hermione began the destruction of the cave's ceiling, she shot Defodio after Defodio in the hopes to create a way out. The Ironbelly breathed a wave of fire over the ground around it, lashed out with its wounded paw and tail. And the few of Voldemort's followers that still remained were overwhelmed by it all.

But they could not breathe in relief, not yet. Their situation was too dangerous, any moment real Death Eaters could appear from around the corner.

At the tenth Defodio the walls of the cavern started to tremble anew, a roar from the Ironbelly worsened it. Boulders started to fall. Yet, instead of cowering in a corner the dragon started to climb, it stretched its neck forward to search for an opening.

With one arm around Harry, Hermione kept herself anchored on top of the dragon, whilst she shot spells both upwards and downwards. Upwards to help the dragon, downwards to keep their opponents from advancing. Harry and Ron did much the same.

Despite the obvious struggle the Ironbelly never faltered in its ascending climb, it was determined to get out of this hellhole. And suddenly a gust of fresh air greeted them as a Defodio destroyed the last rocks on their paths.

A triumphant roar filled the cave; the loudest, most heart-warming and eardrum-splitting one yet. As the Ironbelly wriggled itself through the hole feverishly, excited beyond belief, Hermione blinked away the tears that suddenly threatened to fog up her view.

With an endless amount of fire, the dragon emerged from the hole and onto the streets - Diagon Alley. And the Ukraine Ironbelly made sure that whatever awaited them outside was burned before they could form a threat.

The dragon left destruction in its wake, the houses it climbed upon before it had enough space to spread its wings were reduced to rumble. It walked forward on its hind paws and beat its wings; the roofs of the houses were like its take-off course. Slowly it took to the air. At first unstable but it gradually grew certain of its flight. Its tale smashed buildings it had not even touched for its take-off as if the dragon wanted to leave a lasting impression for anyone to see.

The destruction mattered nothing to Hermione, all that did matter was that they had escaped and that the Ironbelly was free. She smiled and even laughed as the dragon opened its beak for another triumphant roar.

That is, until she looked down and saw the rapidly growing distance between herself and the ground.

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