Chapter 4: Two Heists

With Harry

Dingy Hotel Room, Istanbul

"So, let me get this straight - you got the Locket Horcrux, captured the infamous WidowMaker, and met Elizabeth, who is supposedly a fortune-teller," Holly summed up.

Harry scowled. "Way to boil an epic adventure down to a single sentence. And well, fortune-teller's just the tip of the iceberg."

Holly waved off his objection dismissively. "Your epic adventure probably gave the Turkish Ministry a heart-attack. You did wear glamours right?"

Harry looked offended. "Holly, I'm a pro. How many such missions have I done by now? I wore both the glamours and my own special Notice-Me-Not field, which ensures that even if the glamours slipped, people would only remember seeing a black-haired person and nothing more."

Holly snorted. "And the reason that you even started disguising yourself was -"

"Because Malfoy recognized me during the Raid on Malfoy Manor, yeah yeah. But that was so long ago. I was only nine years old then and hadn't even gone on a single mission. Like I said, I'm a pro now."

Holly ruffled his hair fondly. "Even if you are a pro, that's one more tally in the Potter Effect column. I mean, a simple extraction turns into a high-speed chase above Turkish rooftops? Only you, Harry."

"What about the Hamburg Incident?"

"We are never going to discuss that - ever. Whose neck do I need to wring - I mean, who told you about it anyway?"

Elizabeth cleared her throat to cut short the pair's bantering. "Captain Short, contrary to your initial suspicions, Artemis Fowl has nothing to do with the current goblin insurrection."

"Listen ma'am, you might have convinced Harry that you're a fortune-teller of some sort, but I'm going to need some evidence myself. Why should we trust you, and how can you help us stop the goblin rebellion down below?"

Elizabeth calmly turned and made a clawing motion with her hands, almost as though she were trying to rip a hole in the air. Which frankly shouldn't be possible, except for the fact that it was. Because Elizabeth was now standing in front of an elliptical hole that she had torn into the air beside her, and Holly could see a room similar to the one that she was currently standing in on the other side of the hole. There were several differences between this room and the other room though - it was well-lit, the bed was palatial, and judging by the sunlight pouring through windows, it was daytime. But the architecture was similar enough that Holly could tell that it was still the same room.

"What in Frond's name is that? What, what -"

"Yeah, that was my first reaction too," Harry said, eyes sparkling with amusement and wonder. "Pretty neat, huh?"

"It's a tear, a pathway to an alternate reality. This tear is showing an alternate reality where this room was actually one of many in a five-star hotel; interestingly, the point of divergence between these two realities' hotels rests upon whether one of Ezio Auditore's Assassin recruits in the 1500s accidentally assassinated a certain Byzantine deacon. If he didn't, then the deacon goes on to have a son who opens a hotel at the peak of Suleiman the Great's reign, and his descendants continue to build it up until it's one of the best in Turkey. If he did, then the deacon's younger brother opens the hotel instead, but he completely bungles the entire thing, and we get this dump."

"So you can see -"

"Every possibility."

"But how does that tell you that Fowl is innocent?"

Elizabeth closed the tear and opened up another one nearby. This time, instead of the hotel room, the tear showed an unconscious Fowl tied to a chair much like the mercenary in the room with them.

"Go on, then. Drag him over here," Elizabeth ordered Holly.

Had it been any other situation, Holly would have bristled; only Root could take that tone of voice with her. Now though, Holly simply reached out uncertainly and grabbed hold of the chair. 'I shouldn't be surprised, but it's solid? So, this is all real. What have I gotten myself into?'

She yanked the chair forcefully through the tear, and the captive fell through onto their side.

"Here's some Veritaserum - truth-telling potion," Harry said, giving a bottle of clear liquid to Holly. "Don't worry - I didn't make it," he added hastily when Holly eyed it warily. "Elizabeth managed to pull it through one of the tears; apparently, there's not a single universe where I'm good at Potions."

"Well, there probably is, simply due to the sheer size of the quantum possibility space," Elizabeth said airily.

"It's just exceedingly hard to find?" Harry quipped.

Elizabeth levied an indecipherable look at him. "Not so much that it's hard to find as it is to find the right version - one similar to yourself - that is also good at Potions, among other considerations."

Holly turned to the slumbering Fowl heir and zapped him awake with a spark of magic from her fingers.

Fowl awoke instantly.

"Captain Short, Harry, to what do I owe this pleasure?" Fowl said coolly, his ice-blue eyes absorbing every detail of the milieu.

"Drop the act, Fowl," Holly said tersely. "We know that you're in league with the goblins."

Fowl cocked his eyebrow. "I assume that the People are currently facing a goblin insurrection. Given that you're holding me captive and interrogating me, there must be wizarding involvement as well - so, the wizarding goblins joined their underground brethren?"

"Impressive," Holly admitted. "Or it would be if you weren't backing the goblins and masterminding the siege of Haven."

Adding a thick layer of mesmer to her voice, Holly said, "So, talk, Mudboy."

Fowl rolled his eyes; Holly was reluctantly impressed since most humans would have been drooling from the level of mesmer that she had used. "Thank you for confirming my assumptions, Captain Short. I am sorry to hear that Haven is under siege; I would not support any such plots since that would be detrimental to my bottom-line. At the end of the day, I am a thief, and most of my profits with regards to the People and the wizards come from smuggling between the surface and the underground. The siege is only going to hurt that."

Holly searched the Mudboy's eyes and did not see any signs that he was lying; her gut agreed and told her that he was telling the truth.

Still, better safe than sorry.

"Well, I hope you won't mind if we confirm your statements with this, hm?" Holly said, raising the bottle of Veritaserum.

Artemis' eyes widened. "Butler may not be around here, but my suit is loaded with explosives. I'll answer any questions you have so long as we can come to an agreement on them before getting started. If you ask me any questions outside of what we agree upon, then I will detonate the explosives."

Harry took a noticeable step away from Artemis; he was looking at the teen with grudging admiration.

"I have my secrets, and I am willing to guard them through any means necessary."

"Very well," Holly acquiesced.


Fifteen minutes later, the duo had concluded the interrogation.

As Holly pushed Fowl across the tear, he stared directly into Harry's eyes and said casually, "Do remember that both you and the People are welcome at the house anytime, so long as you don't intend any harm to me or my loved ones. It might be useful given that Haven is currently under siege."

Harry's eyes widened, and as soon as Elizabeth had closed the tear, he burst out, "We should setup portkeys to transport as many fairies as possible to Fowl Manor."

Holly gaped at Harry in shock. "What? Harry, did the tear emit some kind of hallucinogenic gas or otherwise mess up your mind? Because I could swear that you just said that we should move the fairies to the place where our former kidnapper lives."

"Remember how we used my blood to hijack the ward stones and free you from Artemis' orders before escaping Fowl Manor? I might have forgotten to mention that I essentially set up blood wards in the process. As long as Artemis or any of Fowl Manor's inhabitants don't intend to harm me, the wards will remain fully powered and are virtually impregnable."

"I KNEW IT! The Mudboy must have figured out a way to circumvent the Veritaserum; it makes sense that he's behind all this since this would put us in his debt and power -"

Elizabeth interrupted. "Trust me, there's no way in the multiverse to beat Veritaserum. It's a constant."

Harry added, "He's probably just looking to win back some good will from the People after what happened five years ago."

Both Holly and Elizabeth snorted at that, but before Holly could continue, Elizabeth noted, "I think it's more a case of, 'an enemy of my enemy is my friend.' I don't think either set of goblins like him; they'll most likely come after him once they've taken over Haven. At least this way, he gets some protection because it's not like we'll leave him to the goblins' mercies if there are other fairies with him."

That quickly quashed any guilt that Harry's statement had caused, as unbelievable as it was; to think that Holly may have been starting to feel guilty about leaving the vile Mudboy tied up!

"So, convinced, Captain?" Elizabeth inquired.

Holly nodded. "I've got one other question though - that Fowl acted similar to the one that we know, but he's from an alternate universe. So what he said still -"

"Applies, yes. I made sure to pick out a Fowl who was virtually identical to the one in this universe; in that universe, we actually went on a mission to Fowl Manor, caught him at the right time, and tied him up. Unfortunately, we never managed to interrogate him because Butler showed up at that moment."

Both Holly and Harry winced. "Let me guess, Butler tosses us around like rag dolls," Harry said dryly.

Elizabeth shrugged. "Pretty much."

She continued, "At any rate, Captain, not that you'd be interested, one of the constants across ALL of the universes is that no matter what type of Fowl we're dealing with, he has nothing to do with the goblin rebellion."

"So, you know the culprits then?" Holly asked hopefully.

"On the fairy side, sure. Opal Koboi and Briar Cudgeon. On the wizarding side, Lord Voldemort."

Holly and Harry shared a knowing look. "Guess this confirms my vision of his resurrection then," Harry said glumly. "I knew he was being too quiet, given that he'd finally acquired a body after so long."

"Wait, Lord Voldemort has a body, and you saw his resurrection?" Elizabeth asked, showing the first signs of surprise since the pair had met her. "I thought that he was still stuck in spectral form; none of my tears indicated that he had a body now."

Harry tapped his scar. "I get visions of his activities from time to time. About two years ago, I saw Malfoy and an unknown female bring him back in a graveyard; the female..."

He looked sick but forced himself to continue. "Carved out her heart, and Malfoy added a bunch of other ingredients along with that to a cauldron. Voldemort rose out of it at the end."

Elizabeth looked troubled. "Strange. I should have seen that," she whispered. "How did I miss it?"

Turning to Harry, Elizabeth asked, "You mentioned that there was a woman along with Malfoy during the ritual. Did you get a good look at her? Did you recognize her at all?"

Harry frowned and shook his head. "No, she was hooded, so I couldn't see her face at all, even when she was dying on the ground. But the ritual required a 'daughter's heart,' and Voldemort confirmed to Malfoy that she was his daughter in a sense."

Elizabeth mused to herself, 'This is...unexpected to say the least. Is there a rogue version of me that's trying to resurrect Comstock? That would explain why I haven't been able to eradicate him altogether; every Comstock I kill is probably matched by a Comstock that she is saving.'

The word "Horcrux" shook her out of her musings. "What did you say?"

Harry repeated his question. "You know that I'm hunting for Horcruxes, and so far, I've eliminated the diary, ring, and locket. I still need to get the cup and diadem though. I'm guessing they're in Gringotts, but can you confirm that?"

"I've already taken care of the diadem," Elizabeth replied brusquely. "It was in Hogwarts. The cup's in Gringotts, most likely in the Lestranges' vault. But as with Hogwarts, I can't open a stable tear to the right spot due to the strong wards and magical concentration."

To demonstrate her point, Elizabeth opened a tear, and for a moment, Holly and Harry could see the entrance to Gringotts. Within a few seconds though, the tear started shaking, and the image shattered, showing only darkness.

"Yeah, I'm not going through there," Holly said wryly. "Harry, why are we focusing on the Horcruxes right now of all times? Shouldn't we, oh I don't know, focus on the fact that HAVEN IS BEING BESIEGED BY GOBLINS?!"

"Right now, Gringotts' security is most likely significantly weaker than usual since a majority of the wizarding goblins are down below, attacking Haven. If we snatch the Horcrux and rob a few vaults, then they'll be forced to send a large contingent back to the bank," Harry explicated.

"Not to mention that such a robbery might force the Ministry to investigate the goblins' recent activities and could potentially instigate punitive measures," Elizabeth added thoughtfully. "Wizards are (rightfully) wary of goblin armies, so they'll be eager to dismantle the latest incarnation as quickly as possible."

"And we can divert Voldemort's attention away from whatever plot Koboi and Cudgeon cooked up; that way,

"Divide-and-conquer. Not a bad idea, except for one tiny little detail - Gringotts is virtually impenetrable. I mean, from what we've read in that library of yours, nobody's ever managed to break into that place," Holly countered.

"Guess we'll just have to be the first then," Harry said with a determined smile.


With Artemis

(Disclaimer: Some of the text below is paraphrased from "Artemis Fowl: The Arctic Incident.")

St. Bartleby's School for Young Gentleman, County Wicklow, Ireland

"Please take a seat, Mr. Fowl," Dr. Po, newly minted counselor at St. Bartleby's School for Young Gentlemen, motioned to the ornate chair in front of him.

Unlike others in his age group, the 16-year-old moved gracefully and efficiently to the chair and sat down, almost as though he were the CEO, and Dr. Po was the errant executive who had been called in for a meeting to discuss his ineptitude.

Dr. Po quickly shook off the impression, vivid as it was; he was one of the premier psychologists in Europe, dammit.

"So, Artemis, what do you want to talk about today?" he said, forcing a smile onto his face.

Artemis arched an eyebrow and steepled his fingers. "Let's discuss your chair, Doctor. Family heirloom, I take it?"

Dr. Po rubbed the armrests warmly. "Yes. Apparently, it was a favorite of Stede Bonnet, "The Gentleman Pirate" and one of my ancestors, back when he was just a moderately wealthy Barbadian sugar plantation owner; later on, once he'd become a pirate, he took it along with him on The Revenge as a memento of his former life. After his demise, it was lost for years until my grandfather finally rediscovered it in Sivakasi, a quaint Indian town, and bought it for a steal."

"What a heart-warming tale," Artemis replied dryly. "Or it would be, were it not for the fact that your grandfather and successive generations of Pos have been successfully duped by a fake, albeit a high-quality one."

"Pardon me? Master Fowl, I assure you that this chair is a completely authentic relic from the Age of Piracy."

Artemis stood up and moved closer to the chair.

"Look here." Dr. Po's eyes followed his finger.

"Those furniture tacks - see the criss-cross pattern on the head? Machine-tooled, 1920 at the earliest. I rest my case - your grandfather was duped. But what does it matter? It's just a chair, right Doctor?"

Dr. Po snatched his notepad and began scribbling furiously, vainly attempting to hide his dismay. "Yes, yes, very clever, Master Fowl. Playing your little games just as your file said. I was hoping that you would share something about yourself instead, Master Fowl."

Artemis returned to his chair and smoothed out the creases in his trousers. "There is a problem here, Doctor."

"Oh? And what would that be?"

Artemis gave the good doctor his patented vampire smile; previous recipients had claimed that they fully expected fangs to sprout from the youth's gums and had opted to cut off further interaction with the youth rather than risk receiving the smile again.

Dr. Po could sympathize.

"I know the answer to any question that you could possibly think of asking me." Particularly since Artemis himself had read more psychology papers and books than the counselor and had even contributed to several journals under the pseudonym Doctor F. Roy Dean Schlippe. 'When will these idiots realize that they have no hope of analyzing, much less comprehending, a mind such as mine?'

"That's not the problem, Master Fowl."

"Oh?" Artemis was looking forward to this part. 'What is this quack going to diagnose me with today? Multiple-personality disorder? Or maybe I'm a pathological liar?'

"Your problem is that you don't respect anyone enough to treat them as an equal."

That was...unexpected to say the least. This doctor was smarter than his predecessors, but then he'd have to be given that Artemis had gone through sixteen counselors by this point. The school had no choice but to up the ante.

"That's ridiculous. I hold several people in the highest esteem. Einstein - his theories were usually correct -, Archimedes, Agrippa, and Ptolemy, among many others." Especially since the latter two straddled the lines between the wizarding and mundane worlds, so much so that the wizards mistakenly thought of them as members of their insular community.

Much like himself.

"That's not my point. How about someone who you actually know?"

Off the top of his head, Artemis could list Butler and his father. The latter had shaped his very core and had instilled in him a sense of grand purpose and destiny. 'Aurum est potestas. Gold is power. I have not failed you in that respect, Father - the Fowls are once again at the apex of the criminal world.'

The former had been his steadfast companion since birth and had evolved into a surrogate father after the disappearance of Artemis Fowl Sr., a role that Artemis came to fully appreciate after Butler saved his life when Jon Spiro sabotaged a business meeting; Spiro had attempted to steal the CCube, a supercomputer that blended fairy and human technology and was decades ahead of potential competitors, and ended up firing a gun at Artemis in the process. Butler had unflinchingly shoved Artemis aside and taken the shot for him instead.

'Butler nearly died that day. I suppose that Harry Potter deserves some praise.'

Harry had been capturing a rogue dwarf nearby just when the shooting began at the restaurant. Fortunately, for Artemis and Butler, Harry had a horrible sense of self-preservation and had actually run in the direction of the shooting to investigate the situation.

He arrived just in the nick of time - Spiro had turned the gun on Artemis and was preparing to fire. Harry simply thrust his palms outward, and a wave of energy burst the air, hurling Spiro and his goons away from Artemis and into the wall. Several dining tables followed in their wake.

Any goons who had somehow escaped the onslaught of dining tables didn't get much time to recover as Harry weaved his hands through the air, and all of the knives and cutlery in the restaurant picked themselves off the ground and promptly began chasing after them.

Artemis had barely processed the situation when Harry strode over to him and helped him onto his feet. Putting one hand on Butler's shoulder and another on his own, Harry promptly apparated them to a nearby hospital.

Harry then handed him several bottles. "Potion to stop further blood loss, potion to restore any blood lost, and pepper-up potion. Just bought them today as a part of a standard medical kit."

Without further ado, he disappeared with a crack.

Artemis had proceeded to commit Butler into the hospital using an alias and had used his emergency portkey to return to Fowl Manor, if only to escape the British wizarding authorities who were undoubtedly investigating the bout of magical activity at the heart of London and would snap at a chance to capture the infamous Artemis Fowl. Had this happened in Ireland, Artemis wouldn't have had to even worry about that since he still maintained a great relationship with the Irish Ministry, and the Irish Minister frequently consulted him on wizarding affairs that could potentially impact mundane Ireland. For all practical purposes, he was the mundane Irish Prime Minister in the eyes of the Irish Ministry of Magic.

But that wasn't the main point. The experience had forced Artemis to acknowledge the fact that Butler was like a father to him. 'And Harry Potter has my...respect, I suppose. If only he had more experience with technology and committed more robberies in the mundane world - I mean, this is the age of hacking for God's sake. He should at least be a novice hacker on the side. And it would be nice if he could cover his tracks more effectively - it's not exactly that difficult to uncover the secret identity of the wizarding thief Mort, glamours aside, or to predict his next victim (a Death Eater family, to say the least). Honestly, wizards lack an ounce of common sense.'

To return to the doctor's probing questions though, Artemis wouldn't admit any of this in public. 'Sentiment is a weakness, one that my enemies won't be afraid to exploit. And the walls are always listening.'

"I respect myself, Doctor."

Dr. Po smirked triumphantly and opened a window on his laptop. "Extraordinary. Every time I read this -"

"My biography, I presume?"

He nodded. "Firstly, there's your associate, Butler. A bodyguard, I understand. Hardly a suitable companion for an impressionable teenager. Then, there's your mother. A wonderful woman in my opinion, but with absolutely no control over your behavior. Finally, there's your father. According to this, he wasn't much of a role model even when he was alive."

That stung, but Artemis ignored it with practiced ease. "I believe there is a mistake in your file, Doctor. My father is still alive. Missing perhaps but alive."

Dr. Po re-checked the file, and his eyebrows raised. "Really? He's been missing for over seven years, and I believe that the courts declared him legally dead three years ago."

Artemis replied in a voice devoid of emotion, "I don't care what the courts or Red Cross say. He's still alive, and I will find him."

"Even if he were still alive and were to return somehow, what then? What are your plans for the future? Will you follow in his footsteps and become a criminal? Perhaps you already are?"

The doctor didn't know how accurate his statements were. Although Artemis did feel compelled to correct him slightly, "My father is no criminal. He was moving our assets into completely legitimate enterprises; the Murmansk venture was meant to be emblematic of his efforts."

"You're avoiding the question, Artemis."

But Artemis had had enough of this little conversation. 'Time to play a game.'

"But Doctor, this could be a sensitive line of questioning," he said, acting as though he were shocked. "For all you know, I could be suffering from a depression."

Dr. Po leaned forward unconsciously, sensing a breakthrough. "I suppose you could. Is that the case?"

Artemis dropped his face into his hands. "It's my mother, Doctor."

"Your mother?" Dr. Po prompted excitedly. Finally, a chance to salvage this conversation; truth be told, he had been considering the merits of becoming the 17th counselor to resign from St. Bartleby's and possibly retire from practice of psychiatry entirely.

"My mother, she -"

"Yes..."

"She forces me to endure this ridiculous therapy when the school's so-called counselors are little better than misguided do-gooders with degrees."

Dr. Po sighed and slumped back into his chair. "Very well, Artemis. Have it your way, but you are never going to find peace if you continue to run away from your problems."

"Excellent. I trust that our session is over then?"

Dr. Po waved irritably, and the youth left the room just as gracefully as he had entered.


Rather than returning to class though, Artemis strolled to the main gate and entered the Bentley waiting at the school's entrance.

"It appears that I will be able to join the class trip after all, Butler."

Butler chuckled at his charge's antics and began driving. "I assume that our mission is still -"

"On track, yes, Butler."

"Are you sure that you want to do this though? Granted, you would be the youngest master thief ever if you pulled this off; I understand that this painting is a bit like a Nobel Prize for thieves. But the risks -"

"have been calculated and accounted for. My current plan has a 62.7% chance of success."

Artemis paused. Suddenly looking more his age, he continued softly, "Not to mention that we have not been able to find my father anywhere on Earth during the last 7 years. The painting is the key to investigating other possible locales."

Silence reigned for the rest of the drive.


With Harry

Leaky Cauldron, London

"Your plan to rob the wizarding world's safest bank is to Polyjuice into an imprisoned Death Eater and improvise the rest? Are you out of your Merlin-forsaken mind?" Bill Weasley asked incredulously.

"When you put it like that, any plan would sound horrible," Harry retorted indignantly. He was using the Egyptian glamours this time, so Bill Weasley was currently looking at a bald, chocolate-skinned, brown-eyed teenager who reached up to Bill's shoulders.

"Listen, Mongoose, I know that you're an extremely talented thief and am deeply grateful to you for saving my baby sister from the Chamber of Secrets, but I can't help you with this unless you give me more details. If this goes sideways, it's not just my job that will be on the line - it's my life. The goblins will execute anybody who was even remotely involved with a break-in attempt."

Harry sighed before complying reluctantly, "A majority of the goblins aren't even at work right now."

Bill frowned in confusion. "It probably looks that way when you enter Gringotts, but I assure you that there are a lot more goblins once you get past the lobby. They're really good at hiding themselves away from prying eyes."

"No, trust me - they've formed an army and are involved in a siege at the moment. The only goblins in the place right now are stationed at the front desk."

Harry forestalled further questions by raising his palm. "The more you know, the more involved you are in our scheme, and the more likely it is that the goblins will be able to pin something on you. Also, I can't give away my sources - their identities are too important to risk. Anyway, my sources tell me that they're not going to be interested in cooperating with wizards any longer, so you might want to get out of the banking business sharpish."

Bill looked at the teen thoughtfully. "At least tell me why you're doing this. I'm pretty sure that this isn't just an attempt to seize the gold belonging to Death Eaters' families. Merlin knows that it would be easier to undermine them by continuing to rob and burn down their manors as you've been doing."

"You're close to the truth. Let's just say that one of the Death Eaters' vaults contains an item of great importance to Voldemort. Destroying it would bring us one step closer to beating Voldemort."

Wincing at Harry's repeated use of the Dark Lord's name, Bill replied, "Since you're obviously not going to tell what that object is or why it's so important to You-Know-Who, which family's vaults are we talking about?"

"The Lestranges, to start off with."

Bill groaned; he really wanted to hit his head against the table. "So, you want to rob one of the deepest, most securely guarded vaults in the safest bank in Britain? Again, are you out of your mind?"

"Yes." Harry paused before adding, "If you want, I can also hit the Malfoys' vaults along the way."

"As tempting as that sounds, let's just focus on getting you out of this venture alive," Bill muttered. Shaking his head, he began delineating the security measures that Harry and his cohorts would likely run into.


"First level - the lobby's intent wards monitor incoming customers' thoughts and emotions and try to steer them away from any notions of robbery, mostly by making them fixate on the possible consequences of being caught. The engraving at the entrance marks the wards' starting point. Your old-school Aurors like Mad-Eye Moody could easily bypass these since it's a bit like resisting a strong Imperius."

"Second level - once you get past the lobby, the goblins will guide you into one of the carts. To get to the high-security vaults at the lower levels, you'll have to go through a waterfall called 'The Thief's Downfall.' It will wash away any and all enchantments on you - runes, blood magic, Polyjuice, ANYTHING. It's a case of 'no plan survives contact with the enemy.'"

"Third level - a blind dragon per family vault; each dragon has been conditioned to cower upon hearing the Clanker, which is essentially magically enchanted bell. I could...misplace one of them."

"Fourth level - the Lestrange vault almost certainly has an additional blood-based check at the entrance. So, you'll need their hair for Polyjuice and blood for entry (just in case)."

"Fifth level - burning, boiling, and duplication curses on all items in the vault, along with curses that may have been applied by the family itself."

"Sixth level - there's rumors that the high-security vaults are arranged around a pit of Inferi, which consists of the reanimated corpses of previous robbers who had gotten that far."

"Normally, you'd be stopped right after the second level since the goblin warrior squads are on standby in a tunnel near the Thief's Downfall, which will alert them through a ward if any enchantments are removed. My guess is that you won't make it past level 4 - unless you have a new plan for breaking into Azkaban, in which case you're all alone on that one."

"And don't forget - you still need to get back out even if you somehow manage to get into the Lestrange vault and nab the target."


Bill stared at Harry after saying his piece. "Have you changed your mind then?" he asked hopefully.

"Nope. The op's still a go; the hardest parts are levels 5 and 6," Harry retorted cheerfully. "Goblins can't apparate, so how long do we have till the wards' pull gets strong enough to force the goblin squadron to return to the bank?"

"They still have portkeys though. My guess is ten minutes tops if they're really out waging war like you say. Do your sources say there's a goblin rebellion on the cards, Mongoose?"

"It's looking like there will be in the near future; we know for sure that they've allied themselves with Voldemort. As soon as they finish crushing this enemy -"

"Wait, they're attacking the fairies, aren't they?" Bill interjected shrewdly.

"Fairies? What are you talking about?"

"They're not attacking any of the wizarding communities; believe me, there are so few of us compared to the mundane population that we would have heard of that even if they were attacking the Irish magical community, which has pretty much been a black hole since we broke off relations with them for helping out Fowl during the entire hostage crisis. That leaves only the People; they're a new factor in this entire game, and Voldemort is probably taking them off the board before making his play for Wizarding Britain."

Harry looked at Bill, impressed.

Bill merely shrugged. "My dad's really into the Muggle world, and it kind of rubbed off on me, this idea of looking to other cultures and societies to re-energize our world. I thought that it was fascinating when we discovered a whole new hidden society during the Fowl Affair and regretted the fact that we didn't bother furthering relations afterwards."

Harry stood up from the table. "Bill, thank you for the information. Hope you enjoyed lunch."

"No problem, Mongoose. Thanks for the great lunch. Also, could you tell your sources to keep an eye out for Harry Potter? If they hear anything, could you please pass it along to me?"

"Why?"

"Some people that I know are really eager to meet with the kid, especially since You-Know-Who's back now, and he's his #1 target. We want to get him to safety as soon as possible."

"...I'll see what I can do."

As Harry walked away from the table, he realized that he'd forgotten something and turned back; he tossed a coin towards Bill and said casually, "Oh, before I forget, your girlfriend's the WidowMaker. Just say, 'There and back again,' and the coin will transform back into her."

Not for the first time, Bill Weasley bemoaned his tendency to attract rogues. 'Maybe Mum's right, and it is the earrings?'


With Artemis

The Louvre, Paris

Thanks to a donation from an anonymous art lover, an entire class of students from St. Bartleby's School for Young Gentlemen, including one Artemis Fowl, were currently visiting the Louvre.

"Sir, please step through," a security guard said, motioning towards the metal detector.

To anyone who knew Artemis in the slightest, his slouched posture and casual gait would have screamed trouble, but the guard only saw a regular teenager who was being forced to visit an art museum.

"Geez, kid, you should feel privileged to visit this place. I mean, this is THE Louvre, the crown jewel of art museums. Don't look so down."

Artemis scowled at the security guard. "I guess."

"Kids these days - they don't know how good they've got it, privileged brats."

As Artemis stepped through the metal detector, he stumbled at the last step. The guard raised his hand to catch the fumbling boy, and Artemis reluctantly accepted it.

"Sheesh, a thank-you won't hurt, you know. Next time, I should just let you face-plant on the ground."

What the poor guard didn't know was that Artemis had soaked his hand in the Liquid Imperius potion just before exiting his Bentley and joining his class at the Louvre's entrance. Incredibly difficult to prepare but undeniably effective, the Liquid Imperius could be administered through the barest of skin contact and effectively functioned like the Imperius Curse. Surprisingly, it was outlawed well before the Imperius Curse as the pure-bloods in the upper echelons of the International Confederation of Wizards (ICW) were afraid of falling victim to the potion themselves; after all, an action as innocuous as a handshake could very well lead an unsuspecting pure-blood to renounce his wealth and confess to a multitude of imagined crimes, thereby catapulting him from the upper reaches of society to the very dregs or even Azkaban.

Unfortunately, the ICW did not count on the fact that one did not need to be a wizard/witch in order to prepare potions. They also did not account for someone like Artemis, who had deep connections in dwarven smuggling circles. Circles that had specialized in acquiring and trading contraband and rare magical ingredients between the mudane, wizarding, and fairy worlds for centuries. Finally and most importantly, by banning the Liquid Imperius early on itself, the ICW both succeeded and failed in that the Wizarding World soon forgot about its existence entirely (with the exception of one Horace Slughorn, who was happily retired now); they succeeded in that the potion was no longer used but failed since no one would be able to identify its use if it were somehow rediscovered.

After his enormous success in acquiring both fairy and wizarding gold during the Fowl Affair, the dwarves had been more than willing to help him, partly because they feared the consequences of having him as their enemy and partly because they were impressed by his cunning. In short, Artemis helped the dwarves expand their presence in the mundane world and received both fairy technology and magical items (primarily potions) in return.

For example, Artemis had set up false identities for Mulch Diggums and several other "retired" smugglers; Diggums was currently posing as an upcoming actor, Lance Digger, in Hollywood without the LEP being any the wiser. Additionally, Artemis had set up several shell corporations to market the dwarves' contraband in the mundane world, for a healthy consultation fee of course.

Anyway, back to the guard - "Enjoy your visit, kid."

Artemis flashed his signature vampire smile in response. "Oh, I will."

Two minutes later, the unsuspecting guard high-fived one of his peers, who had come in late today since his wife had given birth to a daughter yesterday evening. That guard in turn shook hands with several other congratulatory peers, including the guards who screened tourists' baggage and belongings.

Ten minutes later, one Colonel Xavier Lee was successfully waved through the entrance security checks; he was carrying only a simple backpack. Normally, his size alone would have draw some scrutiny, but the guards were so HAPPY! The world was so great and blissful; all they had to do was obey that wonderful voice in their heads.

Fifteen minutes later, the prime vector (the first infected security guard) decided to take a bathroom break, per the voice's recommendation. When he'd gotten halfway to the bathroom, the voice urged him on to the power supply room instead, and he complied instantly. The voice was always correct; it would never lie to him.

Of course, the hidden security wizards didn't suspect a thing; they were looking for overt spells, not covert potions (especially arcane or long-forgotten ones). And not a single wizard tourist had dropped by today, and it wasn't like the Muggles were any threat in terms of magic usage.


With Harry

Gringotts, Diagon Alley

Bellatrix Lestrange leered down at the goblin clerk. "Are we done yet? Can I go to my vault now?"

"Pardon me for my skepticism, Ms. Lestrange, but I believe that our latest reports placed you in Azkaban."

"You filthy - How dare you question me, the most loyal and devout follower of the Dark Lord? If he didn't require your services at the moment, I would rend you right where you stand."

The goblin merely sniffed at her ravings. "Well, you certainly have her rants down to a tee. Be that as it may, could you submit your blood for additional verification?"

Harry-as-Bellatrix was stuck in a bind. He only had a single vial of Bellatrix's blood on him, and he needed that to bypass any blood requirements imposed by the vault door. Also, Bellatrix was more likely to Crucio the poor clerk for his request than to submit to him; the only problem with that was Harry wasn't sure that he could cast a Crucio. His only previous attempt, which had been against Malfoy while he'd been fleeing for his life, had failed pathetically. Decisions, decisions...

The goblin began screaming loudly in pain; his fellow clerks merely glanced aside as none of them wanted the madwoman to turn her attention onto them. Normally, they would have alerted the Ministry surreptitiously to her presence, but at the moment, the last thing they wanted was for the Ministry to investigate the bank and discover that most of their armed forces were otherwise occupied. What if they decided to invade?

Harry-as-Bellatrix stared at the writhing goblin bemused. As goblin gradually fell unconscious, one of his fellow clerks calmly strolled over and offered to help them complete their business, acting as though nothing-out-of-the-ordinary had happened.

Harry was saddened by the thought that this could possibly be an ordinary occurrence in Wizarding Britain. 'Yep, no regrets in considering myself one of the People. Thank you, Holly, Foaly, and Root.' The thoughts of Voldemort's Horcrux and the siege of Haven were the only things that prevented him from abandoning the entire charade and high-tailing it from the bank.

A few minutes later, Harry-as-Bellatrix and the goblin had gotten a cart and were rapidly accelerating downwards into Gringotts' caverns, towards the high-security vaults.


With Artemis

The Fairy Thief.

What the Nobel Prize was to scientists, poets, and diplomats, Herve's "The Fairy Thief" was to thieves. Unlike the Nobel Prize though, the owner of the "Fairy Thief" was usually unknown to 99% of his fellow thieves; only the most enterprising, cunning thieves ever uncovered that knowledge. Of that select group, even fewer got close enough to touch the painting; still fewer actually succeeded in obtaining it.

Ironically, till recently, the painting was viewed as a myth by most art historians and the rest of the general public; the only proof that it existed lay in a footnote in Herve's journals, which noted that he had gifted the painting to a lovely Turkish woman in an attempt to win her heart but she had promptly sold the painting off for a pretty penny.

Then, out of the blue, the legendary painting had arrived at the Louvre a few weeks ago, with a simple note stating, "More to come."

Artemis was instantly hooked. Over the last five years, he had restored Fowl Empire (not that it was publicly known as such) to its former billionaire status; the best part was that Interpol and other international police agencies had no idea who the head of the empire was or that the various groups in the Empire were actually not autonomous units.

But none of that could compare to the prestige of obtaining "The Fairy Thief."

Furthermore, while studying tourist photos of the painting and its milieu, Artemis' discerning eyes had caught the Gnommish symbols inscribed around the edges of the painting; he was ecstatic to discover that the words essentially translated into, "The door to other worlds lies on the back. Lutece was the architect, and I am the prophet."

Much like "The Fairy Thief" itself, Rosalind Lutece was nigh mythical among physicists. Legends say that she discovered a "Lutece Particle," which would have revolutionized quantum mechanics; apparently, in her first public demonstration of her findings, she used technology powered by the particle to levitate an entire city block and to open a door to other worlds, thereby successfully proving the multiverse theory.

Unfortunately, a day later, Lutece's mansion exploded into flames in a freak accident, which obliterated both Lutece and her work. Pity that Lutece worked alone since her life's work died with her.

What intrigued Artemis about the entire situation, though, was the fact that there were no photos or other physical evidence that the presentation had ever occurred; in fact, newspaper articles and venue records showed that an ornithology group had presented their findings on several newly discovered bird species at that time and place. Similarly, a majority of the presentation's audience declared that they were either busy elsewhere or that they clearly remembered a droll talk on birds; the only reason that Lutece's legend even endured was the fact that, as the years went on, some audience members remembered parts of it as though it were a long-forgotten dream and dutifully recorded it.

As with the apocryphal tale of Isaac Newton's apple, it didn't help that all records on Lutece's presentation began only decades after her death.

But Artemis' instincts hadn't let him down yet; he had uncovered the existence of both wizards and fairies five years ago when the rest of the world had consigned the two groups to fairy tales. He could feel a similar tingle of electricity racing along his spine whenever he thought about the words on the "Fairy Thief."

There was also the fact that he hadn't been able to find his father over the last 7 years, despite personally leading several expeditions into the Arctic and brutally bringing down high-ranking figures in the Russian Mafia. If the painting's words were true, then maybe he could find a world where his father had never been lost in the Arctic, or even if he had, he could at least obtain some clues as to where he could be held.

And now he was standing right in front of it. 'I'm coming for you father...'


With Harry

Despite the goblin's best attempts, the cart didn't even slow down and simply barreled through the Thief's Downfall.

Harry felt himself shrink and his long, straight tresses shorten back to their usual curly, unmanageable levels, among numerous other physical changes. Coughing and spluttering, he took out his glasses from his robes and put them on again.

"As despicable as Bellatrix is," Harry remarked, "I'm going to miss being able to see without glasses."

He turned and saw that Holly and Elizabeth were both visible again; the waterfall had disabled Holly's magical shielding, returning her to the visible spectrum, and shorted out Elizabeth's cam-foil.

"What about iris-cams?" Holly queried.

"I've been wearing glasses as long as I can remember, so it's partly a matter of habit," Harry admitted. "But the iris-cams and contact lenses in general cause me quite a bit of eye-strain; I end up tearing up quite often."

"Eight minutes," Elizabeth called out tersely, stunning the bewildered goblin and marching towards the series of vaults marked with the Lestrange coat-of-arms.

The pair sobered and quickly followed Elizabeth.

"About the guard -"

"Yes, I Imperiused him, and yes, I cast the Cruciatus on the clerk earlier," Elizabeth admitted bluntly.

Harry couldn't help pointing out, "Couldn't you have Confunded the clerk into escorting us instead? Or Imperiused him like you did this one?"

"It was either the Cruciatus or the clerks suspecting that you weren't Bellatrix and immediately calling for help before attacking us. Goblins respect strength above all else," Elizabeth responded.

Still, Harry couldn't put aside his misgivings about putting that goblin clerk through that much pain. Sue him for being sentimental, but he'd felt a part of himself die at seeing that goblin suffer from mind-numbing agony.

'Maybe the ability to see and know everything in the multiverse isn't as cool as I thought it was...'


"Why couldn't we have just gotten the bloody guard to wait a bit before the Thief's Downfall while we got rid of offending tools and waited for Harry's Polyjuice to wear off?" Holly grumbled. "We'd have a lot more than 8 minutes then."

"Because our escort needed to remain under the Imperius in order to get us through the waterfall in the first place; the tracks are charmed to accept only contact from the cart's wheels, so we couldn't have walked or otherwise traversed the distance without the cart. And the cart requires a goblin operator," Elizabeth responded. "At any rate, the goblins upstairs are monitoring all of their fellows' vitals, and the moment we stunned this guy, they knew and promptly activated their alarms."

As the trio marched on, Holly reflected on how Harry had fundamentally retained his innocence over the last five years, despite his prodigious improvements in magic and extensive experience in completing surface-side missions for the LEP. She was proud of the fact that he had never killed anyone in any of his missions; even when he burned down the Death Eaters' mansions as Mongoose, he always left a way out for the victims, whether it was a lone house-elf or a portkey. (Malfoy was the lone exception, but Holly knew that was actually more a case of adrenaline and carelessness.) In many ways, he fully believed in the sanctity of life, much like the People themselves rather than the race that he belonged to.

'He hasn't even gone back to get revenge on the Dursleys.' Which was something that Holly would have understood (and implicitly supported). Instead, Harry had chosen to forget and move on; he had explained to Holly that as far as he was concerned, they just weren't worth his time.

'There's also the fact that others with his power and skill would have probably launched a wold domination attempt by now rather than working with the police.'

Yet, in the case of Elizabeth, Holly now saw Harry's innocence and optimism as a double-edged sword; he had granted the woman his full trust mere moments after meeting her and seeing her special abilities. As far as he was concerned, since she was "special" like them, she was trustworthy.

On one hand, Elizabeth was undoubtedly a valuable ally; she had managed to absolve Fowl of involvement in this entire affair and had obtained both Bellatrix's hair and blood - all through tears alone, whereas previously they would have had to engage in two additional time-consuming, arduous break-ins.

On the other hand, seeing Elizabeth cast the Cruciatus on the goblin reinforced Holly's wariness towards the woman. Ultimately, Elizabeth was a human and an unknown quantity; she claimed to possess the ability to see all possible outcomes, but...

'I am the master of my fate.'

Holly believed in free-will above all else; what made her such an excellent LEP officer was the fact that she could see a third way where others only saw in binary. Elizabeth's claims of omniscience made her queasy, especially because the woman showed her willingness to justify some atrocious actions based on her abilities.

'What if "The Fates" or the multiverse suddenly shows you that it is no longer advantageous to you to work with us? Will you just eliminate us outright? Or abandon us at a crucial moment? I'll be keeping an eye on you...'


With Artemis

Colonel Xavier Lee surveyed the Mona Lisa pensively while a gaggle of students from St. Bartleby's chattered incessantly near the Fairy Thief exhibit; the two Salon Carres were on the opposite ends of the long hallway.

5, 4, 3, 2, 1...

The lights went out.

4 minutes.

Xavier Lee (a.k.a Butler) leaped into action; he bounded the length of the hallway in mere seconds. Thanks to a stint with the US Marines under one of his many aliases, Butler possessed excellent night-vision, so he quickly pinpointed Artemis in the gaggle of kids and subtly handed off a backpack to him.

Artemis felt the weight of a backpack being pressed on him, and he accepted it gratefully. His aloof demeanor and ice-prince reputation worked greatly to his advantage as there was a small but noticeable amount of distance between him and the other students, which gave both him and Butler room to maneuver.

The first thing he took out were what looked like a pair of contact lenses; in reality, they were iris-cams, which possessed an additional night-vision feature.

Once Artemis' visibility was restored, Artemis and Butler smoothly stepped over the security cordon around the display and walked over to the glass case.

3 minutes.

The teenage criminal mastermind took out a smartphone from the bag, started an app, and attached it to the bottom glass pane of the rectangular case; after a few seconds of subtle vibration, the pane and phone fell, and Butler caught it almost instantly. Four nails were attached to the phone.

As Butler set the pane down carefully onto the ground, the youth proceeded to reach into the glass case through the now-exposed bottom and pull out the painting, frame and all. He stopped when he felt a slight tug against the painting from the wall.

'A trip-wire. Fortunately, the power's out for the moment.'

Artemis gently detached the square patch connecting the painting to the wires in the wall from the back of the painting; he then removed the painting from the glass call.

2 minutes.

Butler quickly and efficiently detached the painting from the frame and transferred it into an expandable pneumatic glass case, which had previously looked like an innocent water-bottle.

At this point, thieves with less elan or pride would have simply placed a careful forgery into the frame and moved on with life. Not Artemis.

As Butler restored the now-empty frame to its former position inside the glass case, Artemis reached in and attached the security trip-wire patch to an adhesive on the back of a second smartphone. Butler brought up the bottom glass pane, and Artemis restored the four nails attached to the first smartphone to their original position. With a subtle "Whirr," the first smartphone vibrated, and the four nails instantly turned clockwise.

There were no signs that the glass pane had ever been breached, other than the missing painting.

1 minute.

The duo stepped back across the security cordon; Artemis returned the first smartphone and his night-vision iris-cam to the backpack, which also contained the painting.

While Artemis returned to his original position in the rabble, Butler bounded off with the bag, back to the Mona Lisa.

Time's up.

At the exact moment that the lights came on, the second smartphone attached to the wall activated with a "Whirr" and began projecting a holographic image of the Fairy Thief. So, as frantic security guards surveyed the cameras and tourists looked around bemused, nothing seemed to have overtly changed.


With Harry

"And I thought there was a lot of gold in my vault," Harry muttered, drinking in the sight before him.

There were piles of coins reaching up to the ceiling of the Lestrange vault. Near the back of the vault, there were myriads of treasures - swords, exquisite paintings, medieval armor, piles and piles of books...

Harry stretched tendrils of his magic outwards and searched for a signature similar to the one in his scar. After a minute of questing, he finally found it and tugged on it with his will.

A golden cup endorned with a badger and a large "H" flew out of the piles of gold and into Harry's hands. Even as a dozen copies sprang out of his hand, and Harry cried in pain from the boils erupting around his fingers, he held onto it with all his might.

"Mission accomplished," he gritted out, and he threw the cup into his bag.

The trio did not get a chance to celebrate though as they heard a dull roar behind them; they exited the vault with great trepidation and saw a sea of raging goblins advancing rapidly towards them.

"They had to arrive ahead of schedule," Harry mumbled.

Unlike Harry and Elizabeth, Holly didn't waste time gaping at the goblins; it helped that she'd seen something similar before.

She grabbed hold of the pair's hands and dragged them towards the dragon, whose ears had perked up upon hearing the goblins' roars. "Get on!"

The trio clambered up the dragon's scales, onto its back. Harry began ringing the Clanker, hoping that it would induce the dragon to begin moving away from the vault.

Instead, it backfired, and the dragon roared in fear and agony, rearing up like a frightened horse; the trio nearly slid off but fortunately managed to retain a hold on its scales.

"Ok, that totally failed. Harry, can you enter the dragon's mind and point it towards the goblins?"

Harry nodded. "I can try."

"Err, not to go all Star Wars on you, but there is no try here. It's do or die."

Harry pushed as much magic as possible towards his eyes, and the world suddenly dissolved into a series of lights. He looked down and saw that the dragon's light was golden-orange - 'probably the same color as its flames.'

He had a flash of inspiration and looked for similarly-colored threads of magic around him; through the walls, he could see four, wait no five, others.

Inhaling sharply, he sent out his own green threads to the golden-oranges with a simple image - one of the goblins advancing towards them from the base of the Thief's Downfall.


Drogon missed the light and the air.

Ever since the goblins had blinded him as a hatchling, he had lived in darkness. As a creature of fire and air, he hated the stale air of the underground caverns in which he lived, along with the fact that he couldn't see the vivid colors of the world around him.

To make matters worse, he never knew when one of those vile creatures would come down those atrocious bells; when he had been younger, those bells meant flame-whips, lacerations, lightning-laced pikes, and various other tortures. Now, even if the bells weren't accompanied by any actual torture, the mere memory was enough to make him quail.

He had long given up any hope of exacting vengeance upon the goblins. How could he, when he was blind and chained and feared a stupid bell? Oh, how he had disgraced his mighty, fierce forefathers!

Then, out of the blue, he received an image in his mind's eye; he could see. Oh, he knew that he wasn't physically seeing anything, but still - how he'd missed the colors! The browns, the greens, the vault doors' and weapons' steel grays!

As the chains tying him down loosened, he let out a deafening roar. At last, here was a chance to attain freedom! At last, he could strike down his hated foes!

Drogon's joy increased exponentially as five other roars joined him in a chorus.


The trio barely held on as Drogon charged the goblin army, letting loose large, uncontrolled bursts of flame.

The goblins began screaming and striking the enraged dragon with their pikes, but Drogon had tasted freedom for the first time in centuries; he would either acquire liberty or die trying.

With a mighty swing of his tail, he swept scores of surrounding goblins into the pit around which the vaults were arranged. As they fell down screaming, they collided with several Inferi who were climbing upwards and took them back down.

The other dragons quickly joined Drogon near the pit; one of them actually stumbled into it but managed to stay aloft with its wings. The powerful bursts of air sent the waves of Inferi that were close to the mouth of the pit back down to the bottom. For good measure, the hovering dragon, which sensed the cold, vile energy emanated by the pit, directed a burst of fire straight into its mouth.

Harry was exhausted; he had managed to transmit his message to the dragons and unlock their chains. The rest was up to them now.

"Harry -"

"Five minutes," he mumbled back.

"Harry, I just need you to send out 1 more message. Tell the dragons to smash down the vault doors and lead the goblins inside. In the close space, they'll have to contend both with the vault's curses and the dragons' large mass.

The voice - Holly - paused. She added for good measure, "Think of it as a good prank on the Death Eaters. The combat will most likely end up destroying a majority of the contents of their vaults."

THAT woke Harry up. "Sure, why not?" he said grinning.


With Artemis

"So, what did you think?" the prime vector (the first infected security guard) queried as Artemis was leaving the museum. Butler had already left 20 minutes ago, with 5 minutes left to spare before the Liquid Imperius expired, and the victims' bodies flushed it out without them being any the wiser.

"A truly enjoyable visit," Artemis replied wryly. "I was inspired by the works of genius surrounding me. I think that the field of art will see some of my best work."

"Looking forward to it, kid," the guard laughed.


Two days later, the battery of the smartphone attached to the wall expired, and the holographic image fizzed out and died. Simultaneously, using the last remaining bit of power, the phone exploded and sent pieces of glass shattering outward.

According to the footage from security cameras, it appeared as though the Fairy Thief had been incinerated by a bomb of some sort; investigators were puzzled by the fact that none of the tourists in the area were carrying any explosive material and that pieces of the glass pane had been launched outwards, which implied that the explosion occurred inside it.

But that didn't make any sense, did it? After all, the painting was seen inside just mere moments before the mishap.

The entire affair seemed like magic, as absurd as that sounded.


With Harry

Drogon roared as he began flying for the first time in centuries.

The air, the thrill of feeling the winds buffet his body - this was power! He was a god in the sky, and nothing could bring him down.

Numerous goblins valiantly tried to launch themselves off walls and land on Drogon's body, but he defied them by executing spins and turns in mid-air, zooming upwards past their shocked eyes.


The clerks continued to soldier on at Gringotts' front desk valiantly; the troops should be taking care of the intruders down below, and the Goblin Nation could then turn its attention back to subjugating the people and reuniting with their brothers down below. Yes, business was proceeding smoothly.

The iron doors between the lobby and the cart rails leading to the vaults exploded outwards. One angry dragon came barreling out, firing flames all over the place and killing a fair few goblins. Before it had even gotten to the entrance, it launched itself upwards and crashed straight through the stone ceiling of the bank, soaring into the sky with three small figures hanging onto it like limpets.

Even though the goblins and the awestruck wizards outside in Diagon Alley had lived around magic for all their lives and seen many feats of impossibility, to the point that they were almost laughably commonplace, this still took the cake..

The entire affair seemed like magic, as absurd as that sounded.