Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, the characters thereof, the themes thereof, or the billions of dollars thereof. (Shucky darn!)
Chapter 8: Old Acquaintances
Hermione ran a hand through her damp hair, wrinkling her nose at the sticky film it left on her fingers. "Malfoy? Are you absolutely sure about this?"
He glanced at her, eyebrows raised. "Huh? The dye? Of course." He looked away again. "Gringotts has all sorts of defense lines for magical disguises, but they mostly ignore the muggle stuff." He spoke somewhat icily, letting her know that their disagreement had not been forgotten. She tried to push it out of her own mind, though. Holding resentment will not help us... break into Gringotts. She winced. It sounded crazy, even still. Break into Gringotts.
"And you learned this dying trick from your mother?" Harry asked doubtfully.
"Yeah. Like I said before, she started to use muggle dyes when she began to grey – "
"Which must have been pretty early, with you for a son..." Ron snorted softly.
Malfoy ignored him, continuing, "Because she didn't want to trigger the alarms whenever she visited the vault at Gringotts."
"But... dying our hair? And make-up? Are you sure that's really enough?"
"We've discussed this already! Many times, if I remember correctly! So, it'll be convincing enough, underneath those robes we got you guys. Besides, the only person who's got to convince them of anything is me."
"Alright..." Hermione sighed, pushing a lock of her now dark blond hair away from her face. She glanced at Ron, who was fiddling with his dyed-brown hair. He looked different, certainly, with his hair darker and his freckles hidden beneath layers of make-up... but he still looked like Ron. She bit her lip doubtfully. "But say someone recognizes – "
"Look, I've said it a million times," Malfoy snapped at her, "They didn't recognize you back home, at the manor, did they? A house full of people looking for you three, and they had to get me to identify you! And you're worried about goblins, honestly!"
"Goblins are smart, and they'll – "
"I've heard it already." He sighed. "Just get those cloaks on, and let's go. I've got it under control... how hard could it be for me to get to my family's own vault?" He rolled his eyes.
Hermione fought back the urge to argue further, knowing that all of them were high strung and irritable. She instead grabbed a dark cloak that she had found earlier and pulled it over her head. Next to her, Ron did the same. They both pulled the hoods up, shrouding their faces in shadow. Harry gave a forced laugh. "You two look very shady. Like you're going to rob a bank or something."
"Shady. Perfect." Malfoy smirked. "You'll fit right in on Diagon Alley, now. Got that cloak, Potter?" Harry held up his invisibility cloak. They had all decided that Harry was too recognizable and too fiercely wanted to be safely disguised. The invisibility cloak seemed the only alternative. "Good," Malfoy muttered, beginning to pace. "Okay, good. And everyone's got their wands?"
Hermione raised her new wand as Ron and Harry did the same. It felt awkward in her hand, stiffer and a bit rougher than the wand that she was used to... the wand that she had used since she was eleven... But that one was gone now. This new one was all that she had. And it worked well enough, really, she told herself as she tucked it into her robes.
"Okay, okay, good." Malfoy muttered. He rubbed his temples and took a deep breath. "Let's go, then." he said, straightening. "I trust that you all know what you're doing?"
"Uh-huh."
"Yeah."
"I guess..." Ron muttered hesitantly.
Malfoy gave a forced smile. "Really, it shouldn't be that bad... just keep quiet, keep down." He glanced around quickly. "Well... to the Leakey Cauldron, then." With a crack, he disappeared. Hermione looked to her friends, gave them both a grim smile, then, suddenly feeling the weight of what they were about to attempt, disapperated.
After she stumbled onto the pavement before the old inn, a wave of nausea gushed through her, rising in her stomach, pulling at her chest. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, forcing herself to fight back the feeling. Finally she straightened, the sensation reduced to nervous tugs in her gut... which she now identified as dread.
Beside her, Ron adjusted his sleeves and Malfoy pulled the hood of his pale robes over his head. She looked around, but didn't see Harry. Cloak, she thought. Or at least she hoped that he was there, invisible... because if he wasn't, they would have no way of knowing what item in the vault was the horcrux.
"Well, onward." said Ron, opening the door and entering the Leaky Cauldron. Hermione followed him in cautiously, looking apprehensively into the inn. She felt something brush her arm, but saw no one nearby her... Harry, she realized. He was there.
Though not many people were inside of the inn, everybody that was there turned toward the group curiously. Hermione felt eyes following them as they all made their way across the room, toward the entrance to Diagon Alley. Her thin disguise felt less adequate than ever.
"Mr. Malfoy..." Tom, the old innkeeper said nervously. Malfoy turned toward him slightly, gave a curt nod, and turned away. Ron walked up to a wall, tapped it with his wand, and stepped back as the bricks began to spin and shift. After the doorway had formed, the group passed through to Diagon Alley.
Hermione had been expecting a grim sight. She had heard about much that had befallen the street, she had heard about the poor witches and wizards who now huddled there for refuge. However, the sight of the dismal alleyway still struck her mightily. She saw the people curled up in doorways. Muggle-borns, she thought. Mudbloods... The word that she had spoken so boldly the day before now felt dull and heavy inside her mind. Suddenly, looking out at the wretched heaps that shrank away from them, she hated it with a passion that she never had before.
"I am a wizard... I am, I..." one man moaned as she brushed by him. She felt terribly foul as she turned away from him, ignored him, couldn't meet his eyes. I could be here, she thought miserably.
She was brought out of her thoughts by an alarming call. "Lucius Malfoy!" She heard a clear voice cry, ringing out over the quiet street. She looked up sharply, glancing around for Malfoy's father. However, the speaker, a tall man with bushy grey hair, was walking toward them. Or rather, Malfoy. "Why, Lucius, I must say it's a surprise to see you here!"
If she was shocked at his approach, though, she was dumbfounded by Malfoy's reply. "Travers," he said coldly. Was he going to pretend to be his father, then? That was not a part of the plan. She tried to keep her face neutral, though, and hoped that he knew what he was doing.
"Why so chilly? And what are you doing out here?" The man's voice was light, but had an undertone of something more sinister. He had a... look in his eyes as well, and Hermione knew that this man, this 'Travers', was no friend to Lucius Malfoy.
"I am visiting my vault."
"But I had heard that you and your wife were confined to the house after the escape and the... ah, betrayal." He raised an eyebrow, casually examining his hand.
Malfoy flinched visibly, but said, "The Dark Lord saw it fit for me to come here today. He knows I am not my son. He knows that I am no blood traitor."
"But still, the escape – "
"One mistake, next to years of faithful service, is not too serious." Malfoy said quickly. Hermione recognized his tone... he was getting flustered.
"But it hasn't just been one mistake for you, Lucius," Travers said maliciously, eyes glinting. "Has it? Or have you already forgotten the Department of Mysteries?" He narrowed his eyes. "What are you doing out here, Lucius? The Dark Lord wouldn't send you here. He doesn't take you seriously anymore. No one does. Why, I just – "
"Lucius? We should be going." Hermione said, trying to sound disdainful.
Malfoy shot her a grateful glance, and said, "Yes, Anica, you're right. Good morning, Travers." He turned and began to stride away.
"Who are these two, Lucius? I don't believe we've met.
"This in Anica and Timothy Stewart, from Alberta." Malfoy answered over his shoulder. "They see, ah, eye to eye with us." With that, he increased his speed, escaping the conversation which he could not possibly keep up.
Travers looked skeptically at Ron and Hermione, who both rushed after Malfoy. Hermione glanced backward, and was relieved to see that the Death Eater was not following them. He only stood watching them leave, suspicion filling his face. He, standing in the middle of a sparsely populated street, wasn't lost from sight until the group walked up to the bank.
Hermione noted the two wizards standing outside of the doors, wielding narrow, golden poles. Probity Probes, Malfoy had called them back at Shell Cottage. He had said that they detected all spells of concealment and magical objects. She knew that she should pass through them undetected, but she felt the nausea rise again all the same as she approached the steps. However, as she felt the poles brush over her, nothing happened. No alarms sounded, no spells flew, no one screamed "Thief!" and grabbed her.
"Ma'am, you can move in." One man said dully to her. She stumbled through the silver doors, into the bank.
Ron followed shortly after. "That was frightening," he muttered. Hermione smiled wryly. He continued, "So... where's Malfoy? I didn't see him get probed."
With a jolt, Hermione remembered that she hadn't either. "Was he behind us?" She asked.
"I don't know... but shouldn't have come in already?"
The answer was yes, but Hermione instead shrugged her shoulders weakly. She glanced around the marble hall nervously. "Malfoy?" She called.
"Yes, yes, over here!" She heard him call. "At the counter!"
She and Ron, (and Harry, she hoped,) rushed over to the counter, where Malfoy stood, waiting to speak to a goblin. "I didn't see you come in," Hermione whispered.
"I was before you." He shrugged.
"Ah." After a moment, remembering the incident on the street, she glared at him. "Why did you pretend to be your father?" she asked forcibly. "That wasn't a part of the plan!"
He shrugged. "People are more likely to listen to my father, anyway."
Finally the goblin looked up. "Mister Malfoy," he said. "How may I help you today?"
"I'm here to visit my vault," Malfoy sniffed. Hermione glanced around. There were not many people inside the bank, but they were all staring at Malfoy. She felt worry building up inside her... if everyone knew that Lucius was supposed to be confined, then they would be very suspicious.
"You have... identification, I trust?" The goblin asked slowly. "A wand will do..."
Malfoy stiffened. "My wand was broken. I thought that this was well known." He reached into his robes and pulled out his wand. "I have been using this one."
The goblin leaned over the counter to see the wand clearly. He looked up, eyebrows raised. "That is – is that your son's wand?"
"It was." Malfoy said simply. "I took it, though, after his betrayal. I've been using it since."
"I see." the goblin muttered, tilting his head to one side. He glanced upward. "May I examine it?"
"No," Malfoy said, tucking the wand into his cloak again. "You recognize it. Isn't that enough?"
"I'm not sure." The goblin said. "It certainly seems to be Draco Malfoy's wand."
"Then I want to visit my vault. Now." Malfoy drew himself up. "I have very limited time. I don't want to bother with this nonsense any longer. Or do I need to take my business elsewhere?"
"I am very sorry for any inconvenience, Mister Malfoy," the goblin said carefully, "but we must be cautious."
"Yes, and so I showed you my wand. That is plenty."
The goblin looked doubtful, but stood up. "I shall need the Clankers," he said. He warily moved away, disappearing from sight. Hermione glanced at Malfoy, who stared ahead grimly, then turned her gaze to Ron. He met her eyes nervously, trying to give a reassuring smile.
Finally the goblin returned, carrying a leather bag that jingled with his step. "Follow me, Mr. Malfoy," he grunted, walking toward one of the many doors leading off down the hall. Malfoy wordlessly fell into step, followed by Ron and Hermione.
The goblin turned around, black eyes narrowing. "Mister Malfoy alone, please. For security reasons."
"I wish the Stewarts, my two associates, to accompany me." Malfoy said.
The goblin looked up at them all critically. Hermione felt herself tense as his eyes rested on her, examining her. "These two are not known to us at Gringotts. It is not customary on such short notice... but old families..." He looked down, apparently thinking. Finally he said shortly, "If they will give me their wands to keep while we are in the vaults."
Hermione pulled her wand out of her pocket to hand over, but Malfoy motioned her to stop. "Let us discuss this," he said, taking a few steps away and beckoning Ron and Hermione to follow.
As soon as they were out of the goblin's hearing range, Hermione said, "I think that it's perfectly reasonable to give him our wands. He'll be carrying them, and we'll just take them back – "
"I don't like it." Malfoy said nervously, fingering his hair. "What if something goes wrong? Without your wands, we're doomed. Besides, putting wands in the care of a goblin... it's unheard of..."
"Not much you guys can do, is there?" Hermione heard Harry whisper from nearby. Malfoy flinched, glancing around, apparantly uncomfortable with being addressed by someone he couldn't see.
"So... we just go along with it?" Ron bit his lip. "This wand business wasn't a part of the plan."
Malfoy sighed. "Nothing, really, has gone according to plan." He scowled slightly, then paused, thinking. "Well..." he finally said, "Let's go back. Don't want to seem too suspicious." He turned away, walking toward the front counter before another word could be spoken.
Hermione shared a glance with Ron, before he turned to follow Malfoy. Before Hermione could fall into step, though, she noticed someone standing at the entrance to the bank... Travers, from the street. He was studying the group carefully, arms crossed. Hermione turned away sharply and walked back to the counter, rubbing her hands together nervously.
" – can't see why this is really necessary," Malfoy was saying irritably to the goblin, "No such thing has been done before, I should know, and – "
"Security has been tightened, Mister Malfoy..." the goblin started to explain, before he was interrupted by a level voice that made Hermione squirm uncomfortably.
"I can also vouch for these two." Travers walked up behind Ron and Hermione. "Mr. And Ms. Stewart? I believe that they can keep their wands." He turned toward the goblin. "I will accompany you, though, if it would make you feel more comfortable."
The goblin looked up nervously. "I don't believe that will be necessary."
"Nonsense!" Travers smiled. "Besides, Lucius had something that he wanted to show me in the vault. Correct?" He gave Malfoy a pointed look.
"But – but of course," Malfoy said nervously, looking at the floor.
The goblin looked very skeptical, but motioned for them all to follow him. While walking into the stony, torch-lit tunnel, Hermione studied Travers, who was keeping his face eerily blank. What did he want? She wondered. She could easily tell that he was on poor terms with Lucius Malfoy. Why, then, would he help them get into the bank?
The goblin whistled to hail a cart. It was larger than the usual cart, with three rows of benches instead of the normal two. The goblin climbed into the front, motioning the others into the other rows. Hermione stepped in first, sliding into the middle row. Travers was quick to follow, calmly sitting beside her. Ron opened his mouth, about to protest, but Hermione shook her head sharply. Scowling, he and Malfoy slid into the back row.
The cart jerked to life, quickly gathering speed. Soon it hurtled through the twisting tunnels, torches whizzing past Hermione's ears. Sometimes, through the noise of air rushing past her ears, she could hear snippets of the conversation Malfoy and Ron were having.
"... I can't believe... Travers... were you thinking?... trying to..." She could barely hear Ron say. She strained her ears, trying to hear the rest of what they muttered to each other.
"... don't know... he seems to... if he thinks I'm father then... thought he would... your wands..."
She wanted to turn around and look at them, join in the talk, but she didn't want Travers to notice. He couldn't be allowed to overhear anything. She stared blankly ahead, trying to ignore the man she supposed to be a Death Eater seated directly beside her. She could feel his eyes on her, studying her. She rubbed her hands together in her lap, trying to focus on something else...
Behind her, she heard a few words of what Ron was whispering to Malfoy. "...about a couple of wands?... he can't know... Harry..."
As soon as Ron had said their friend's name, Travers grinned madly and turned to face her, hissing, "Accio wands!" Hermione felt her wand fly out of her pocket. She turned to see Travers holding three wands in a fist, his own outstretched.
Suddenly she felt her hood tugged down, felt a wand thrust at her neck. She gasped, trying to wrench herself away, but Travers grabbed her hair and twisted her to face the back of the cart. He muttered something, and her whole body went stiff. She tried desperately to move away, to no avail. He flicked his wand at Ron, who had stood up, hands balled into fists, paralyzing him as well. "Alright," he breathed, addressing Malfoy, "Who are you?"
Malfoy was shaking. Out of fear? Out of anger? Hermione didn't know. "Let her go." He said, face tightly drawn, lips barely moving. "Let her go now."
"Who are you? Tell me!" He ordered, still keeping somewhat quiet, so as not to attract the attention of the goblin in the front seat.
Where is Harry? Hermione wondered. Why isn't Harry helping?
"I'm M-Malfoy, Lucius Mafoy, you know me – let her go now or I will – "
"No you are not! I talked to Lucius Malfoy just minutes ago, after our little encounter on the street. He is at Malfoy Manor, where he has been since Easter." Travers growled, before muttering some incantation under his breath. Hermione's restraint grew stronger, so strong that she couldn't move enough to fill her lungs, couldn't breathe... She felt her toes and fingers start to tingle, her chest start to ache...
"No! You're right! I'm not! It's – I'm Draco! Draco, I'm Draco Malfoy!"
"Liar!" spat Travers. For only a moment, Hermione tightened so far that she felt her heart skip a beat... then, suddenly all was released. She went limp, held up only by the Travers's grip on her hair. She coughed feebly. "You've got to learn that there are punishments for when you lie," he said mildly, pulling Hermione up a bit further.
"I'm not lying..." croaked Malfoy.
"Luckily, I think I know exactly who you are." he said. He dropped Hermione and examined his hand, the one that had been gripping her hair. He rubbed his fingers together. "Odd... that feels like dye... muggle dye, very clever..." He pointed his wand to Hermione, hissed, "Scourgify!" and pulled her up again. She struggled against him, but found herself paralyzed once more. "Ah, look now! Brown hair. In fact, she looks a lot like a certain mudblood that we've all heard of." Hermione's blood chilled. Travers cocked an eyebrow looking at Ron. "And as for Mr... was it Timothy Stewart? Scorgify!" Ron's face was suddenly freckled again, beneath very red hair. "Ah, a Weasley." Travers looked to Malfoy, smiling triumphantly. "And where those two are, there's sure to be one other! You are Harry Potter! How you managed to get in here under the influence of Polyjuice Potion, I shall never know, but you are Potter! I've found you!" He pulled up his left sleeve. "It won't take long at all for the Dark Lord to arrive," he said softy, reaching a finger toward the dark marks that twisted on his forearm.
Suddenly, a loud yell sounded nearby. Travers look up, shocked.
"What is going on back there?" Called the goblin. Hermione felt the cart lurch around a tight turn, then heard the pounding rush falling water. Lots of it. She couldn't turn her head to see what was ahead, but she saw Travers gaze up in confusion, while Malfoy grinned.
Then she felt the cart fly into what seemed like a wall of water. It pounded down on her, soaking her in an instant, filling her eyes and mouth and ears... Then, as soon as she felt air touch her skin again, the cart lurched to the side, off the track. She was falling, falling – it struck her that she could move, she was no longer paralyzed – but what did it matter to her now, as she fell? As the ground rushed up to meet her?
-o-o-o-
ThisBirdTooHasFlown speaking: So sorry for the wait! Anyways, I'm back in full swing now.