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Chapter 4 The Vault

Hermione landed flat on her face. Luckily for her she landed on a rather comfortable mattress instead of the hard surface of the ground. I must have set this up in advance. She thought as she pushed herself up to her knees, glancing around curiously.

It looked more like a cluttered garage than a vault. Clothes racks took up the sheer majority of the space, all of different colors and styles and fabrics. Above each of these racks were floating pieces of parchment with numbers on them. Across from the racks were rows of dressers, all organized by color and size. Hermione counted thirteen in total. More parchment was laid across the top of each dresser.

After slipping the key back around her neck she slowly stood, wincing as the blood rushed back into her feet after kneeling for so long, and started to move through the vault. She examined the dressers first, they were all relativity of the same style and make but were all made of different kinds of wood, they were organized by color, darkest to lightest. Hermione walked over to a dresser and quickly scanned the parchment on its surface.

Wands, available for use after 1945.

Hermione set the parchment down and carefully opened the top drawer of the dresser. Inside were piles of wands all laid out in neat rows. Heart pounding, she carefully picked one up and shuddered in joy as she felt her magic respond enthusiastically to the wand.

"Lumos."

The wand sparked to life, glowing brightly, and Hermione beamed down at it. For the first time in a long while, Hermione felt like she had some measure of control. She quickly canceled the spell and set the wand back inside the drawer with great reluctance. She did not want to give up her new found control so quickly, but if the parchment could be believed (and it could considering she wrote it) then she needed a wand from another period.

She quickly made her way through the rest of the dressers, stopping at one made of oak.

Wands, available for use after 1891.

Hermione stared incredulously at the date, just how far back in time had she gone to need wands from eighteen ninety one? She didn't want to think of it. She opened the drawer and saw more rows of wands, fewer than the last but there were still plenty to choose from.

She picked a lighter colored wand and was pleased to discover it reacted easily to her direction. She would keep this one. She shut the drawer and made her way over to the clothes racks. It was like wandering through a department store, except all of the clothes were her size and her style. The parchment above each of the racks labeled when the clothes were in style and when she could wear them again as 'Retro' wear.

Behind the racks of clothes were a variety of suitcases from different times and eras. Some were magical and some were muggle. Next to that was a muggle file cabinet. She curiously opened the top drawer and flipped through all of the different files, one for every year going back to eighteen fifty. She flipped through them until she found one for nineteen thirty two to nineteen thirty nine.

Inside the folder was pictures of her, both muggle and magical, and various slips of parchment and paper. Birth certificates, apparition licenses, ID's… even a few deeds to various properties around London and one, to her surprise and alarm, in Knockturn alley. Dozens of keys were spelled to each of the deeds. According to the file they were keyed into her magical signature and upon her death they would disintegrate if they were outside the vault.

Disappears upon traveling was scribbled under the keys.

Safe houses. She realized as she read through all the information on the wards protecting each house. Relief settled over her shoulders like a warm blanket. These were places for her to go, she wasn't adrift, she had planned for this, and she had taken care of herself.

With a sigh of relief she grabbed a key for a small flat in London and slipped it into a pocket of a simple black purse she had grabbed in a box by the wall. Content she prowled around the rest of the vault, picking up things she needed as she went. Extra clothes, toiletries, shoes, quills and parchment, and even a small worn cauldron were all loaded into a magical suitcase she charmed to float behind her. She was tempted to pack more but the future Tom claimed she would only be there for three days. Pretend you are packing for a vacation. Take only what you need for a few days the rest will be here when you get back. As she packed she thought about her father.

Growing up her he had always teased her when she would pack for long trips; he always said she packed for the apocalypse.

"Hermione dear, if you pack any more I might start to worry."

"I am packing so much so you don't HAVE to worry… pass me that jacket."

"It's summer, you won't need it."

"Yes but what if it gets cold at night?"

"You sound like your mother… she would always pack the same way you do and I would worry about it constantly."

"Why?

"I was always worried that one day she would realize she had everything she needed in that little suitcase of hers and never come back."

"But she did."

"She did and then we had you and I stopped worrying. She told me she would always come back because she always had something to come back to. So, in my opinion, it is always better to pack a little less to have something to come back to."

"Or someone!"

"Yes, or someone."

She smiled sadly at the memory as she closed the suitcase with a small snap. She would miss them, would always miss them, but the loss didn't cut her as deeply as it might have. She had already mourned them when she sent them to Australia, had mentally prepared to never see them again. It didn't stop the pain in her chest from flaring up.

Tears tickled at the corners of her eyes and she furiously rubbed at them. I don't have time for this, I need to finish packing and Tom needs me.

She had almost forgotten the boy and with a renewed sense of urgency made her way to the very back of the vault. There were two wardrobes standing side by side, almost completely identical. Paper was taped to the front of the one on the right.

Open me

Curious, she set the things she was taking out of the vault aside and made her way over to the wardrobe. Reaching for it with slight hesitation before realizing she was being silly, she wouldn't do anything to endanger herself.

She opened the doors. Inside was a single shelf, on it was a rack to hold potions. Only three of the slots were in use. Three plain vials with swirling slivery liquid she instantly recognized as being memories glowed brightly in the dim interior of the wardrobe and she picked up the bottle labeled First.

I need a pensieve.

She lifted her wand and cast a quick Accio, fully expecting to have the one come flying at her. Nothing came. Confused she cast again, still nothing came. Could it be the wand? She cast Lumos and the tip of the wand glowed brightly. Hermione frowned, how could she have collected such a large cache of items and not have provided herself with the one she needed?

I must have had a reason for it… but what?

There she was stumped and she didn't like the feeling.

With a small sigh of irritation she picked up the potions rack and settled it in with her other belongings in the suitcase, charming the vials quickly to avoid accidently breaking them. She would find a pensieve after she found Tom again.

Tom! I had almost forgotten!

She had spent too long lollygagging, she needed to get out and find him before something terrible happened to him. With new determination she quickly shrunk the suitcase she had been steadily filling and shoved it into the purse before winding her way back to the front of the vault.

Like on the outside the wall was smooth and stark white with the keyhole being the only flaw. Hermione took a long deep breath and braced herself as she shoved the key into the hole and was instantly pulled through back to the other side.

"Find everything you were looking for?" The Manager asked, a tiny smirk curling the corner of her lip. Hermione glared in return.

"You could have warned me," she muttered crossly.

"I could have, but that wouldn't have been as funny. Now if you have everything you need allow me to escort you out."

Hermione gave a frustrated sigh and nodded. The goblin smiled at her again before throwing up her hood as they made their way back to her office. The witch peered down at the goblin curiously.

"Why do you wear that hood?"

The goblin cackled loudly, "Because of the first Goblin War. Your Wizarding history books claim it was just about the issue of issuing wands to non-humans. But it was really all about a beautiful goblin woman, and a human wizard who fell in love with her."

"A wizard and a goblin?" Hermione asked incredulously.

"Is that so hard to believe? We are not so anatomically different and some humans are blood thirsty enough for us to find them attractive… but that does not answer your question. I wear this hood because one of the laws worked into the First Treaty after we lost the war was that all goblin women were to hide their faces so as not to tempt hapless wizards. I am one of the few women of my tribe that still go into human territory, and to avoid being seen I wear my cloak."

"But that is ridiculous!"

"That is life." The goblin said as they left her office, the guards snapping to attention as soon as they passed them.

They walked silently side by side until they reached the door leading into the public part of the bank. "Until next time Hermione Granger… I wish you much success in your endeavors."

"Thank you." She started to walk away.

"Oh and before I forget a friend of yours is waiting at the front of the bank. Don't keep him waiting." With that the goblin turned on her heel and disappeared back through the door.

A friend?

Apprehension and curiosity warred in her breast as she made her way to the front of the bank, her newly acquired wand clenched tightly in her hand. Then she spotted him and all tension fell from her.

"Tom," she sighed in relief and made her way over to him. He was standing by the front doors, leaning back against a column, peering awkwardly around at the well-dressed patrons who passed him. His black eyes were tense and his thin lips are twisted into a defensive sneer as people visibly gave him a wide berth.

"Tom!" She called, his eyes met hers and she could read the relief in his gaze. He quickly made his way over to her and as soon as he did her nose wrinkled.

"What on earth is that smell?"

His expression twisted into something furious and dark. "You don't want to know," he grumbled and shoved his hands into his pockets.

With a small flourish she took out her wand and cast a quick cleaning charm on him, much to the boy's surprise. He quickly examined himself all over.

"What did you do?"

The vague panic in his voice surprised her.

"Nothing, I just cleaned you up a bit is all," he relaxed a bit "Tom you know I am not going to hurt you right?"

He sneered.

"As if you could."

She rolled her eyes at the declaration. "Well, I thought you would like to know."

"I will keep that in mind." He grumbled sarcastically.

She held back a tiny smile as she slowly examined him. Despite the lingering smell that hung about him, he looked completely unharmed. A bit disheveled, but unharmed. A well of relief spilled over and impulsively she threw her arms around him. He tensed and tried to pull away but she didn't let him go.

"What on earth are you doing?" he hissed.

"Hugging you."

"Why?"

"Because I really needed a hug… and I am glad you are alright."

He stopped struggling as if he were stunned.

"Oh… well… yes…."

She lingered a moment more before letting him loose. "You still want to tag along with me?"

He eyed her warily. "Are you going to hug me again?"

She laughed "I might."

He frowned and she could see the gears turning in his head. "…fine. But don't grab me again without asking."

"Agreed. So are you ready to go?"

"Go where?"

"You will see," she held out her hand " trust me?"

He eyed her hand like an average person would eye a snake before slipping his hand into hers. "For now." He grumbled, and with that Hermione apparated them away.