The Unforgiving Minute
VIII: The Eighth Hour
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18:00
With barely a sound, Harry and Narcissa arrived at the Eastern Diagon Alley Apparation Point. Releasing his vise-like grip on her arm, Harry briskly strode forth, mentally commanding his companion to follow. Moving swiftly, he exited the small stone building.
Far from the smoking crater which had been his last glimpse of Diagon Alley, the famed wizard establishment was absolutely thriving. Large throngs of witches, wizards and children clogged the cobblestone streets. The excitement in the air was almost thick enough to slice through, and was clearly reflected on the near universal jubilation he saw etched upon each passing face.
"Do you think Harry can do it?"
"I tell ya, Diggory's going to win it all!"
"Potter's only fourteen! He has no chance against Krum!"
Harry caught bits and pieces of the excited chatter as he began to weave in and out of the pedestrian traffic. Scarlet and yellow banners stretched overhead from building to building, each one declaring support for one of the Hogwarts champions. The excitement of the Third Task was reaching its climaxe.
In the world Harry had come from, it had been the last truly happy day for Britain.
Across the street, Gringotts loomed large, dwarfing every other building in the alley. Wizards passing the banking establishment were thrown into shadow by the hulking marble behemoth. From the large, open bronze doors, all the way down the marble stairs snaked a long line of wizards, stretching down the street.
"Krum at 2-1 odds!"
A loud, seedy looking bookie, one of many, stalked up and down the line of prone wizards, looking for marks. Various other disreputable peddlers of shoddy goods and useless amulets took the opportunity to prey on the gridlocked wizards, including a short, bedraggled man that looked suspiciously like Mundungus Fletcher.
"Have you ever waited in line here?" Harry asked without slowing, leaning close to Narcissa's ear.
"No," she answered. "Lucius always went straight to I-Ironhide."
Fully expecting her answer, but not the slight hitch in her voice, Harry marched right past the line of waiting people, his head held high. Lips turned downwards as he passed, envy and dislike in equal proportions evident upon their faces. Along with the fact that the expensive robes he wore probably exceeded most of their yearly salaries, the very fact that they had to wait in line, while he didn't, must have been maddening.
Not that Harry cared. He had a Dark Lord to kill. They did not.
Approaching the steps leading up to the goblin bank, a short man in a large purple top hat stepped out of line, his finger outstretched.
"Are you too good to wait in line like the rest of us?" the man demanded in a squeaky voice, his finger shaking slightly.
Harry sent a stony glare at the diminutive Order member. Though without question a good man, Dedalus Diggle had little sense, and his skill with a wand was poor.
Not that any of that mattered at this moment.
Not quite liking the look in Harry's grey eyes, Diggle abruptly stepped back into line, so quickly it looked like he Apparated there.
Quickly ascending the steps, they made their way through the open silver inner doors. He gave the inscription on the door a single glance, smirking inwardly. He certainly hoped to find more than treasure.
The large interior of the bank, carved mostly from marble, was almost completely packed solid with people, every witch and wizard wearing similar expressions of impatience and annoyance. At the far end of the bank, where a counter ran the entire length of the rear wall, goblins sat upon their high stools, serving the masses of people with barely concealed contempt. Huge mountain trolls, fitted with thick armor, leaned against the walls, waiting for the opportunity to dish out pain on any unruly customers.
Narcissa's hand threaded through the crook of his arm as she led him towards the left side of the lobby.
"Our Account Manager, Ironhide, will tolerate us, but will not cooperate easily, and will respond negatively to sign of weakness."
Satisfied, Harry let out a curt nod before pushing through the second door on the left. The room beyond was a monument to the opulence the wealthier castes of goblins engaged in.
Mounted swords, axees and maces were displayed prominently upon the stone walls, their hilts gleaming with affixed jewels. A large tapestry, spun with what looked like gold thread, depicting a black hammer and a silver sword crossed over one another. All the furniture in the office was cherry, which shone with a carefully polished sheen. A large, mahogany door was set into the rear of the office.
At the large desk sat an enormously large, bald goblin dressed in a steel-grey suit. Scratching away with a quill on a sheaf of parchment, Ironhide stopped writing, not even bothering to acknowledge Harry or Narcissa.
Mentally ordering Narcissa to close the door behind them, he approached the desk before putting his hands on the smooth surface and leaning forward.
"I require a moment of your time."
"Then perhaps you should have made an appointment," Ironhide answered without looking up, his voice bored. "I do not have any moments to spare right now."
"Well," Harry drawled, attempting to do his best impression of Lucius, "perhaps then I should endeavor to find another Account Manger, one who actually makes time for his largest client."
"By all means, go right ahead," Ironhide replied in a bored tone, still yet to make eye contact. "However, you should probably go wait in line now, as the proper forms are at the front desk."
Setting down his quill, the goblin looked up. Its yellow eyes gleamed malevolently, clearly enjoying making Harry wait.
For a moment Harry's hand twitched, the urge to kill the goblin becoming strong. He was fully conscious of the fact that every passing second spent arguing with this wretched creature was another step toward failure.
Granted, it didn't help that he had little patience for the traitorous creatures, who, when they weren't squabbling with one another, were often on the brink of declaring war on the Wizarding world. He hoped whoever had decided goblins should control the Wizarding economy had died a long, painful death.
"Or, instead, you could just summon one of your underlings, and have them show us to our vault," Harry said in a flat, cool voice.
Ironhide's expression became far less malicious, his mouth contracting into a far more appraising glance.
"I suppose if I were rid of you, it would allow for me to finally finish up my own work. Icepick!"
After a few moments, a door at the back of the office opened, admitting a small goblin dressed in a red uniform adorned with brass buttons.
"Escort the Malfoys to their vault," Ironhide ordered dismissively, waving the hand holding his quill carelessly. For the barest of seconds, Harry thought he saw the goblin's eyes widen, but it happened so quickly it could have been his imagination. Setting his quill down, Ironhide opened his desk, and withdrew a leather bag which seemed to be full of jangling metal.
"Right away," Icepick answered in a gruff voice, taking the bag and turning towards the large door set into the back of the room.
Without acknowledging Ironhide, Harry and Narcissa followed the goblin through the doorway, which opened out into a small tunnel with smooth rock walls with shallow alcoves. Torches with bright yellow flames sat within, fully illuminating the tunnel, which led ever downwards at a shallow grade. Following it to the end, it cut into another, far larger tunnel with a railway placed in the center, with both ends of the tunnel stretching out into the darkness. Following a sharp whistle from Icepick, a cart sped down the tracks, stopping before them.
Without being prompted, Harry and Narcissa entered the cart, followed by the goblin. At once, like a bullet shot from a gun, they began hurtling down the labyrinth of twisting passages, the air growing progressively colder as they sloped steadily downward into the darkness beneath Gringotts. Despite every twist and turn, however, Harry's quick eye marked every bend, each dip, carefully cataloguing each.
To have any hope of escape, he needed to know the way out. If his plan went accordingly, there was a strong chance the goblins wouldn't be all that inclined to help him find the way back.
No words were exchanged as they descended deeper, swerving between stalactites glistening with moisture, passing by an underground lake. This was far deeper than the Potter vaults had been, perhaps near the Malfoy vaults-
All thought left Harry as the cart took a sharp turn, bringing them directly into the path of a waterfall. Before he could react, they zoomed through it, drenching him with not only water, but with the wash of magic. Without warning, the cart pitched violently, flinging the three passengers out it. Hearing the cart smash heavily against the wall, Harry quickly withdrew his wand, flinging a cushioning charm. His free-fall stopped immediately, allowing him to float to the ground weightlessly.
Feeling for the connection tying him to Narcissa's mind, he felt nothing. Quickly turning, he saw Narcissa look up. While her silk robes were sodden, and her long, soaked blonde hair clung to her body chaotically, clarity reigned in her eyes.
"You bastard!" she hissed, before moving towards her wand. Harry, however, was far quicker, ensnaring her with another Imperius Curse. Her eyes immediately lost focus, losing their ferocity. Without warning, Harry's senses flared, and instinct took over. He quickly stepped to the right, pivoting about the heel. Right where he had been, an arc of steel sliced through the air, the short arc of Icepick's dagger barely missing him. Firing off a second Imperius, Harry quickly dominated the goblin's mind.
"Take us to the Lestrange vaults, quickly," Harry ordered. At once, Icepick began to march forward into the darkness. Harry briskly followed, his eyes watchful, while Narcissa matched his speed.
Noting the decreased distance between his strides, it would appear that along with breaking his mental control, the enchanted waterfall had robbed him of his assumed disguise. Ironhide must have noticed something was off. For all he knew, a score of goblins could be on their way right now.
No matter. The Horcrux was near, and his curses were strong. No, the time for hiding and stealth was almost over.
Soon, it would be time to fight.
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Blood mingled with desperate sweat ran down into his eyes, bringing a keen sting to his senses, while painting the world in a crimson spectrum. As he blinked involuntarily, a high-pitched, alien squeal rang out from his right flank. At full sprint, Harry leaned to his left, just in time to feel something narrowly miss his head and scrape down his back, mercilessly tearing through the flesh.
"Now!" Harry screamed, bringing the Elder Wand up in a high-arc. Unseen, a potent wave of magic erupted from his wand, striking the ceiling with the force of a bomb. The concussion from the blast lifted him off his feet for a second, before he hit the ground hard, stumbling forward. The heavy thud of collapsing stonework ringing in his ears, a large, heavy object struck him in the back. The blow sent Harry, already off balance, tumbling to the ground, face-first. His nose broke with a low crack as it collided with the unyielding stone.
He tried to scramble quickly to his feet, but a heavy, furry weight leapt down upon him, smashing him against the floor.
"Harry!" Wood screamed. A moment later, the weight was relieved, followed by a sharp click right above the back of his head. Turning over, he saw an acromantula's mandibles closed, mere inches from his face. Writhing, vibrant green vines crisscrossed its dark body, holding the magically resistant creature aloft.
"Get ready, Wood!" Sprout gasped, her voice shaking. At once, the reaper vines springing forth from her body reared back, before slinging the spider into wall. It hit the wall with a crunch, several of its legs bending backwards. Without hesitation, it scrambled to its feet, the remaining six legs scrambling against the floor. Its many crimson eyes shining brightly, it reared back, preparing for another charge.
From out of nowhere, a silver axe cut through the air with a low whistle, directly into the creature's thoraxe. Black ichor sprayed across the room as Wood withdrew the axe, sending loops and piles of the creature's innards splattering to the floor in a foul-smelling heap.
"Take this, ye whiny twat," Wood sneered, raising the axee again. Continuing to squeal, the acromantula tried to backpedal, but Wood swung the axe again, cleaving the creature roughly in two.
"Magic don't hurt 'em," Wood said, wiping the gore from his weapon, "but 'ere's still no stoppin' a silver axe. Ye okay, Harry?"
Getting shakily to his feet, Harry glanced behind him, at the heavy stone blocks sealing off the passageway. Black blood flowed out from beneath the collapsed ceiling, like an oil spill, while a cacophony of high-pitched squeals echoed from beneath the rubble.
"I'm fine," he answered dismissively, drawing in a deep breath to still his racing heart. "How about you, Pomona?"
Hands on her knees, her face an alarming shade of scarlet, she let out a barely perceptible nod in between pulls of fresh air. Green reaper vines languished on the ground behind her, looking nearly as deflated as their host.
Temporarily satisfied, Harry wiped a hand across his brow, clearing the grime from his eyes. Flicking his hand towards the ground, he rid himself of the droplets of blood and grey brain matter which clung to it. Both of which, up until a few minutes ago, had belonged to Millicent.
Yet another poor soul who had sacrificed their life to his insane cause.
"We have to keep moving," Harry urged, "They might find a way around the cave-in."
"Fuckin' acromantulas," Wood snarled, leveling a kick at the lone spider which had made it past the ceiling collapse. Without further comment, he slung the axe back over his shoulder, and followed Harry down the hall. Winded, but moving, Sprout followed in their wake, still breathing heavily.
They walked in silence down the sixth-floor corridor, the light dimming as they progressed. Their footsteps left imprints upon the dusty stone floor as they walked, unsettling Harry. The rest of Hogwarts had been absolutely teeming with Death-Eaters and various Dark creatures, making their arrival at the sixth floor almost miraculous.
Why then, was this area of the former school deserted?
Turning a corner, the disrepair became even more evident. In the scant, dying torchlight, he saw that dirt and grime covered the floor, almost completely hiding the flagged stone beneath. Cobwebs completely covered the still portraits and suits of armor.
"What the fuck's that smell?" Wood demanded, glancing around irritably.
Inhaling deeply, Harry gagged on the vile stench of death. Bent over, hands upon his knees, he willed himself not to vomit.
"Harry, you okay?" Wood asked.
Not trusting himself to open his mouth without vomiting, Harry merely shook his head in response.
"I can't see shit in 'ere," Wood complained, withdrawing his wand. "Lumos."
As bright light leapt forth, the pieces began to fall into place. Dark fabric stretched along sections of the hall and ceiling, blocking out all possible ambient light.
"It's a hive!" Sprout gasped, echoing Harry's thoughts.
"Bring it on, ye bloodsucking cunts," Wood roared, unslinging his silver axee from his back, the blade still wet with acromantula blood.
As if on cue, the doors on the left side of the hallway flew open, slamming against the walls with loud thuds. From the darkened rooms emerged pale, shambling humanoid figures with hollow eyes sunk deep into their heads. Misshapen, yellowed and rotting teeth gnashed together as they charged, letting out sub-human shrieks.
Young or old, man or female, it didn't matter. They were little more than cattle now, livestock, beyond all hope of redemption. The only thing he had to offer them was freedom.
Taking a deep breath, he jabbed the Elder Wand forward, launching a Piercer. No sooner had the spell left his wand, he brought it left across his body, launching a Cutter. From there, he moved his wand in a counter-clockwise circle, unleashing a Hurricane Banisher.
The piercing spell took the lead slave, an older man covered in freely bleeding fang punctures, in the forehead, detonating his head like a ripe berry. His cutting curse clove a young woman in half, just before his final spell threw both halves of her body into the oncoming mass of slaves.
With movements almost too quick to track, Harry unleashed chain after chain of spells, painting the stone corridor with broad, messy strokes of blood and brains. Ten, fifteen, twenty slaves all fell beneath his wand, restoring an eerie silence to the dilapidated hallway.
"If that doesn't rouse them, nothing will," Sprout said, her own wand held aloft, lighting the way. "We have to move fast."
The smell of blood, especially in such large quantities, was more than enough to wake a vampire.
Moving quickly, the three remaining members of the strike team raced down the hallway. Leaving blood and gore streaked footsteps in their wake they emerged out into the stairway leading up to the seventh floor.
Sprout took point, her arm raised, and the light from her wand illuminating their path. Dust and cobwebs stretched overhead, while the stone floor was sticky with dried, coagulated blood.
"Fuckin' slobs, ain't they?" Wood asked quietly, more to himself than anyone else. Nodding his agreement, Harry scanned every inch of the inky darkness beyond the reach of Sprout's light with a judicious eye. Despite being day, with benefit of darkness, it was entirely possible that the slumbering vampires had placed more competent guards than their mindless livestock.
Reaching the landing between floors, a great unease began to pull at Harry's instincts. He froze in place, his primal instincts took over, heightening the acuteness of his senses. The darkness around him began to expand, take form, while sounds previously unheard began to make themselves known.
The frantic pounding of Sprout's heart. The slight swish of air gliding across steel as Wood raised his axee, prepared for anything. And the slight rustle of fabric above him-
Whipping his wand upward, eyes closed, he launched a solar flare. Eyes dancing with yellow spots, he rolled to his side as an unholy screech filled his ears, sharp claws missing his neck by inches.
Crimson eyes gleaming with malevolence, its pale skin marred with smoking burns, a dark-haired, younger male leapt towards him with cat-like grace. Harry quickly conjured a physical shield, which collapsed beneath a strike from its sharp claws. Knocked back, Harry hit the wall hard.
In the blink of an eye, the vampire closed the short distance, its yellowed fangs bared. Right before it could strike, a green vine clamped around its neck, stopping it short.
"The wall!" Sprout shouted, before swinging herself around. Mercilessly, the reaper vines flung the struggling vampire into the wall. No sooner had it hit, Wood charged forward, burying the axee in the abomination's forehead. The silver battle axe split through its head like cordwood, roughly bisecting it in a rain of blood. The vampire's legs kicked out for a moment, before it fell still. Now dead, Sprout flung the body away from them, where it tumbled gracelessly down the steps.
Sprout tracked its progress with her wand light at the body rolled over a few times, coming to rest at the feet of heavy boots. With mounting unease, Harry watched as the light moved upwards, revealing a group of tall figures clothed head-to-toe in dark robes, no flesh left exposed. Only the crimson, burning eyes were visible.
"Shit."
"It's time to fucking move!" Wood declared, turning to run up the stairs. Following him, Harry turned just in time to see another vampire drop from the ceiling. As quick a draw Harry was, it seemed he was moving in slow motion as the vampire tore Sprout's throat out with a single quick movement.
Sprout let out a gargled scream of agony, wrapping the reaper vines around the vampire, before pulling roughly in opposite directions, tearing it apart in a glut of blood. She angrily threw aside the two still-squirming pieces, before falling to her knees. Shaking her head as the green vines wilted to the ground, the life draining from them, she looked up at Harry and Wood.
"Go," she choked out, raising her wand.
With a quick nod of thanks, Harry raced up the stairs.
"Fuck!" Wood screamed, before following him up. Reaching the seventh floor landing, they began to sprint down the hallway, guided by the bright light emanating from the tip of Harry's wand. Sprout's dying screams echoing through the hall behind them, the stench of death and rot became even more potent.
Lining the halls, like grotesque works of art, hung bodies in various states of decay, contorted into unnatural positions.
Vaguely, Harry forced himself to sprint faster, choking down bile, wondering if this was what passed for art in the vampire world.
"Where the fuck is the gargoyle?" Wood roared, his eyes searching wildly for the entrance to the Headmaster's Office.
"Up ahead," Harry gasped, slowing to a stop.
"There's nothing here!" Wood claimed, throwing a glance back into the darkness they had fled from. In the dying light, Harry saw them advancing with frightening speed, like silent sentinels of this new Hogwarts. Almost effortlessly, the distance began to close, shrinking to fifty feet.
Shaking his head, Harry flung a cleansing spell at an outcropping of wall. Aided by the power of the Elder Wand, years upon years of blood, dirt, grime and other things too revolting to identify vanished, leaving behind only the gargoyle.
"Whatchamacallit," Harry said quickly. With speed previously unseen, the gargoyle leapt to the side. Turning to the side, Harry went to cover Wood, but Wood was already on the move, pushing Harry through the entryway.
"You first," the former Quidditch Captain said grimly, before stepping through the doorway, axee held in front of him.
Before he could make it all the way through, however, Wood was jerked backwards harshly. The shaft of his axe, held horizontally, catching the sides of the doorway, was the only thing that saved him from being torn away completely. For a moment, he was suspended in air, a single claw wrapped around his leg, held high, before the rest of the vampires caught up.
Like vultures upon carrion, they fell upon Oliver. Throwing back their hoods, they unleashed their fangs and tore into his lower body. Surging forward, Harry flung a solar flare, driving them temporarily backwards, hissing with pain. Freed, but bleeding like a sieve, Wood crashed back to the ground, his hands still wrapped around the axe handle.
"Come on!" Harry screamed, wrapping his hands around the shaft of the axe, using it to pull Wood into the threshold. Feeling movement, he leaned back, to have a claw cut through the area his head had occupied. At once, the vampires grabbed Wood again, pulling him backwards. Wood's hands, no match for the inhuman strength of the vampires, began to lose their grip on the axe handle.
"Don't you fucking quit on me!" Harry screamed, flinging another solar flare.
Spitting blood, Wood shook his head, his eyes full of clarity.
"I'm fucked, mate. Go give Riddle hell."
His heart heavy, Harry released his grip, saying a single word.
"Close."
At once, the gargoyle sprang shut, cutting off both of Wood's hands. They, along with the axee they held, clanged to the floor for the final time, the severed appendages trailing roughly torn tissue and streams of blood onto the dusty floor.
"I'm so sorry, Oliver," Harry said quietly, giving one last glance to the remnants of one of his oldest friends from Hogwarts. His heart heavy, he turned away from the sight, and towards the future.
One that, by all means, he would ensure would end with Riddle dead.
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Huge, the dragon rose above them, both rear legs shackled with heavy cuffs, which were linked to thick chains terminated in giant spikes driven into the rock ground. At Harry's presence, it fought against its confines, pale and flaky scales chafing against the metal shackles. Though its eyes were milky with cataracts and disuse, it still shook its head from side to side, its flexed, spiked wings, crashing against the confines of the rocky cavern.
"Get us past the dragon," Harry commanded, turning to the goblin.
"Right away," the goblin answered, reaching into the small leather bag Ironhide had given him. It withdrew a number of small, seemingly mismatched metal instruments. Beginning to shake them together, a loud, ringing noise rang out, similar to a hammer upon an anvil.
Advancing upon the dragon, shaking the metal instruments, the dragon began to backpedal. Drawing nearer, Harry noticed that the dragon was actually trembling, and saw that vicious scars crisscrossed its face.
Their passage clear, the odd group of three made their way past the dragon, down of the several corridors leading off of the main chamber. It ended in a wide, circular wooden door.
The Lestrange Vault.
At his command, the goblin pressed his palm to the door, causing it to melt away. Beyond lay a cavelike opening, completely filled with treasure.
Golden coins, goblets and idols shone everywhere, giving the appearance of a sea of liquid fire. Amidst the gold lay silver armor, precious gems and potions in jeweled flasks.
Giving his wand a wave, searching for the magical signature of protective wards, he detecting nothing, not even basic blood wards one would expect to see.
What was the wrinkle here?
Casually, he raised his wand, attempting to summon the Cup. He was almost relieved when the Cup didn't come sailing out of the vault. There were at least some protections in place.
Walking further into the vault, barely having taken a few steps, he heard a muffled thud, throwing the Lestrange vault into darkness. Spinning around, wand lit, he saw that the door had re-appeared, sealing them in. Harry immediately relaxeed. The goblin was still in here with him, and was only an order away from re-opening the door.
By wandlight, Harry stepped further into vault. His elbow brushed up against a stack of coins, sending them tumbling to the floor. With wide eyes, he saw as they seemed to split and multiply in mid-air, turning into an avalanche of gold. Covering his feet, he felt vast heat eating at the tops of his dragon-hide boots.
Layered curse-work, it appeared. The original object enchanted with the Gemino Curse, while all the duplicates were infused with Flagranate Curses. It the heat didn't kill, the expanding gold would still be around to crush any unsuspecting thieves.
Cursing to himself, Harry attempted to transfigure the gold into paper, but its shape remained static. He moved onto water, before trying ice, rock and wood, but all of his attempts failed.
"Shite," he swore, feeling time beginning to slip away. How was he going to get around this?
"Stay right where you are," Harry commanded to Narcissa and Icepick, before beginning to gingerly make his way further into the vault, weaving between the piles. Despite his careful steps, he nudged a chest plate forged from silver, causing it to multiply twenty-fold, burning away part of his robe.
Stopping, Harry took a deep, relaxeed breath. Think Harry, think!
The entire point of the trap was to make it difficult to move around. So, it wouldn't make sense to have the Cup on the floor, where one could make minimal contact with the gold. No, it would only make sense…
Raising the wand of his beam upwards, he shined it over the tops of the mountains of gold. High shelves were set into the walls, upon which perched yet more gold, as well as various other treasures. Sweeping the shelves with the light, he observed shields, goblin made helmets, and-
The Cup!
His heart racing frantically in his chest, he saw the small, twin-handled, golden cup.
Finally, he had found it!
For a moment, he appraised the high mountain of gold leading up to the cup, before shaking his head in amusement. Reaching into his cloak, he withdrew Lucius' shrunken broom, before restoring it for its normal size. Much better, all he needed-
His instincts screaming, he turned to see Narcissa surge forward, wand drawn.
"Avada Kedavra!"
Still gripping the broom, he leapt sideways, directly into a pile of gold, which immediately began to multiply around him, burning through his clothes. Ignoring the searing pain, he scrambled to his feet, summoning a flame whip and lashed out with it.
Narcissa, a curse upon her lips, barely had time to blink before the thin column of flame sliced through her wand arm like butter, separating it from her body. Letting out a scream of agony, her neatly cauterized arm fell upon a pile of glowing gold, which multiplied further upon contact, burying both her arms and her legs up to the knees.
Letting out a primal scream, her eyes burning with hatred, Narcissa ran headfirst into the pile of gold closest to Harry. Quickly, he conjured a physical shield as the wall fell forward as it multiplied, completely burying Narcissa. The golden tsunami's progress was halted by the shield, but Harry immediately began to pant with the effort of maintaining the spell, which did nothing to block out radiated heat.
Sweating profusely, Harry leaped upon the broom, the shield collapsing above him. Flying downward, he deftly scooped up the goblin with his wand arm, breaking the connection to the shield. At once, the shield disappeared, letting loose the dammed gold. With a curse, he pulled up sharply on the broom handle, moving upwards, avoiding the tumbling gold with milliseconds to spare. It crashed to the ground, multiplying yet again, causing the very air to shimmer.
Head swimming with heat, Harry flew up, neatly plucking Hufflepuff's Cup from the shelf. Ignoring the multiple copies which sprung from it, he flew back towards the vault door, which was now two-thirds covered.
"Open the door," Harry commanded to Icepick, stopping aside it. As the goblin, still under the Imperius, reached out his hand, Harry began to conjure water in mid-air, forming a floating pool, which he shaped into a flat disk. As he froze the mass of water, the door once again disappeared, sending an avalanche of gold tumbling out into the tunnel. Pushing the goblin off the broom, Harry shot through the small opening.
For a short moment, he saw twelve goblins surrounding the entrance, weapons at the ready. They disappeared from sight as Harry neatly dismounted the broom, ice-shield held in front of him, neatly deflecting the goblins' first volley of arrows and poison bolts. Swinging his other arm up, he lobbed Hufflepuff's Cup over the ice-shield like a grenade. Flinging a solar flare, he leaned around the ice-shield, ignoring the temporarily blinded goblins. Squinting with his left eye, he tracked the cup's trajectory, lining up the shot.
"Avada Kedavra!"
The green light leapt from his wand, flying straight towards the Cup. Satisfied, he ducked back behind the shield, conjuring a physical shield. An explosion ripped through the cavern, shredding through his ice shield like paper. Rocks slammed into his shield like sledgehammers, knocking him backwards against the re-closed vault door.
Shaking his head, his vision obscured by thick dust, he waved his wand, vanishing the cloud of dust. To his right lay a goblin arm, roughly amputated at the elbow, still clutching a crossbow. Rocks, debris, and piles of rags, blood and guts covered the entire hallway. Nothing had been spared by the magical backlash of the destruction of Hufflepuff's Cup.
Voldemort's second Horcrux.
Ignoring the pain in his back, he picked up his fallen broom, mounting it. The Cup might be destroyed, but if he didn't get out of Gringotts now, it would all still be for nothing. Kicking off from the ground, he raced forward, towards the sounds of falling water, Gobbledegook shouts, and roaring dragon fire.
The time to fight had come.
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Air pulled at his hair and robes as he sped down the tunnel, towards the sound of water. Up ahead, reflecting the scant ambient light, water cascaded from a fissure in the ceiling, stretching across the entire tunnel.
Quickly abandoning any plans to disillusion himself, he thrust his wand forward, launching forth a blast of superheated air, followed by a Hurricane Banisher. The water immediately turned to steam, before being blown away from him, into the main cavern.
Bursting out through the mouth of the tunnel, under cover of steam, his hard green eyes surveyed the scene, quickly identifying and analyzing the situation.
Six goblins hurried around the tethered dragon in the center of the room, each with Clankers held in hand. Around the cavern's perimeter stood twenty goblins, each at the ready with crossbows in hand. The far end of the cavern, which held his escape route, had been barred by a large, tall gate. It stretched across the entire tunnel, completely blocking off the exit.
So be it.
His wand a blur of motion, Harry snapped off three successive Cutters. Raising a physical shield, he cut sharply to the right as two of the curses struck home, roughly decapitating two of the goblins. His presence revealed, his shield bore a volley of arrows and bolts, before he quickly dropped it. Flinging his wand downward, he drove a Conjunctivitis Curse directly into one of the dragon's eyes.
Enraged, the dragon opened its mouth to fry Harry, but multiple shakes of the Clankers made it reconsider.
Re-applying the physical shield, he dove down, close to the dragon. Turning, it swung out with its horned tail. Harry pulled up sharply on the broom, rising over the spiky appendage. Missing him, it struck one of the perimeter goblins, splattering it into the wall.
Shutting his eyes for a fraction of a second, he snapped off a solar flare, before cutting rapidly to the left, around the dragon. The goblins temporarily blinded, Harry snapped off a Reductor at the gate, dead center. The scarlet spell flew directly between the two trolls, hitting one of the bronze crosspieces. It struck with a hollow gong, before flying back at Harry. Cursing, Harry dipped low, right into the path of one of the trolls. Roaring, it took a swing with its club.
Rolling to his right, he ducked under the swing, snapping off a blasting curse. The spell took the troll in the mouth, detonating its head in a spray of blood, bone and brains. Cutting to the left, he conjured another physical shield. Though their aim was bad, one of the projectiles struck his shield. Instead of merely bouncing off the shield, the object burst upon contact, spraying Harry with foul smelling ooze.
At once, the dragon spun around. Heedless to its handlers, it let out a single roar, before belching forth a column of flames. Coaxeing a burst of speed from his broom, he rocketed out of the way, the flames consuming an unlucky goblin, melting through its battle armor like butter.
Spitting the ooze out of his mouth, Harry pulled upwards on his broom. Quickly, he rose, avoiding another breath of dragon's flame. Dropping the shield, he cut roughly to the right, flying counter-clockwise around the cavern. His moving quickly, he rained death down upon the perimeter goblins.
He flew faster than the goblins' shots could ever hope to hit. Helpless, they fell beneath his wand, one by one. Skulls split, heads rolled, limbs and appendages fell like rain.
Finishing his bombing run, he once again dove close to the dragon. As he did, the remaining troll charged, club raised. Once again rocketing upwards, the dragon's horned tail struck the troll in the midsection, impaling it. It thrashed around for a moment, beating at the tail with its club, before a sharp flick of the tail sent the troll flying into the wall.
Downing one of the final remaining goblins with a Cutter, Harry flew in front of the gate, his muscles coiled. Turning, straining against the shackled that held it down, the dragon belched out another wave of fire. Pulling upwards sharply on the broom, he soared over the flames, before whipping the broom around, facing the gate.
The column of liquid fire melted through the bronze gate with ease, creating a large hole in it. Wasting no time, Harry accelerated through the opening, the angry yells of the few surviving goblins in his ears. He took the first turn at high speed, leaning his entire body to the right. The effects of gravity pulled mercilessly at him, but he held on, before decelerating.
Holding his wand in front of him, he cast a powerful illumination spell, banishing the shadows of the darkened cavern, revealing the smooth, stone walls. If there was another attack team, they'd see the light, but the goblins were a secondary concern.
Time was of far greater importance.
Mirroring his descent down to the Lestrange vault, he followed the cart tracks back in the direction he had come from, his path leading continually upwards. His eyes stayed watchful, ever mindful that every oncoming corner could hold the next ambush.
Without warning, Harry heard an almighty crash echo through the caverns, shaking the walls.
"What in the bloody hell was that?" he wondered to himself, picking up his pace slightly. Had part of the tunnel caved in?
He strained his ears, for a moment only hearing the steady drip of water, before another large crash shook the walls. It was far closer this time, and clearly coming from the direction he had came from.
Harry took a sharp left through a smaller opening, which opened out into a larger tunnel. The rock walls were wet with moisture, while puddles of water scattered the floor. Halfway up the tunnel, he heard another crash, directly behind him the tunnel he had exited, followed directly by a huge, angry roar. Tearing his eyes away from the iron tracks leading up the steep grade, he whipped his head around, shining his light back into the darkness.
Filling the mouth of the tunnel, like a horror from the depths of the darkest nightmare, hovered the dragon. Milky eyes rolled in its head at it let out a monstrous roar, its body wedged tightly between the stone walls. Driving forward, it began to shoulder its way through the stone, shearing off the sides of the opening.
Shite.
Turning back towards the path, Harry increased his speed. Outcroppings of rock appeared out of the darkness, each threatening to knock him off the broom, but he continued on. The dragon was faster than him, and he needed to put distance between them before it forced itself completely through the tunnel opening.
Forcing more speed from the broom, he sped up, shooting out of the tunnel. It opened out into a huge cavern, which housed a large lake, glowing with a green bioluminescence. By the light, he saw that the tracks hugged the left wall before rising upwards, out of sight. Large stalactites, some of them over a hundred feet in length, hung from the ceiling.
If he was going to make a stand, it would have to be here.
The rudimentary pieces of a plan falling into place, he saw the dragon emerge from the tunnel. Cuts and abrasions lined its thick, scaly hide, but it clearly had no intention of stopping until it had caught Harry. Opening its mouth, it spewed fire in his direction, which Harry easily avoided by flying upwards, the flames passing harmlessly beneath him. Pointing his broom up, he rocketed up towards the tips of the stalactites.
Letting out a roar of frustration, the dragon followed, flying straight through one of the stalactite tips, breaking it off. Steadily rising as he flew, Harry cut his broom to the left, avoiding another torrent of flames. The crash of the dragon breaking through the barriers in its way ringing in his ear, Harry continued to rise deeper into the maze of stone. The diameter of the spikes had increased vastly as he approached their point of origin. Harry skirted around a large stalactite fifteen feet in diameter, the stone completely blocking a torrent of fire from the dragon.
Risking a quick glance back, he saw that as he rose, the dragon was having trouble matching his speed, the large barriers slowing its progress down too much. Frustrated, it flew down slightly, head upturned, trying to flush him out with gusts of fire. Shielded by the stone, none of the strikes came even close to hitting.
With the opposite side of the cavern rapidly approaching, Harry abruptly swung his broom around. Gravity tore at him for a moment, but he held fast, coming to rest facing the opposite direction.
The dragon, incapable of such high-speed turns, crashed headfirst into the rock wall with an almighty crash, spraying broken and dislodged stone splashing into the lake below. Speeding in the opposite direction, Harry flew down from the protective cover of the stalactites and flew back in the direction he had come from. A jagged path of broken stalactites marked the dragon's progress overhead.
Reaching the opposite side, Harry did another turn. He saw that the dragon, after shaking its head slightly, had let out a roar that conveyed obvious anger and frustration, before taking flight, right towards him. Raising his wand, Harry began to focus his energy at a badly damaged stalactite. Focusing all his attention on it, he began to pull with everything he had. It resisted at first, but he felt its roots began to give way, dislodging the giant stone spike.
Tracking the speeding dragon's frenzied progress with his eyes, calculating the distance, he held the spike in mid-air for a moment, before whipping his wand down. Staring into the gaping maw of the approaching dragon, he held his ground as it inhaled, preparing to burn him to a crisp. Concentrating on its prey, the dragon never even looked up as the giant wedge of stone fell onto its back.
The torrent of flame, meant to kill Harry, passed harmlessly beneath him as the dragon was driven into the lake, throwing up a tidal wave of water. Quickly whipping his wand down, Harry launched a bolt of lightning at the mostly-submerged dragon's exposed back.
The dragon let out an agonized shriek as the bolt struck true, discharging into the mineralized water with a bright flash. Smoking slightly, the dragon thrashed in the water, its milky eyes liquefying in its sockets, gallons of blood beginning to seep from its mouth, ears and eye sockets.
Harry watched dispassionately for a moment as the dragon began to squeal, backpedaling in the water, trying to put as much difference between itself and the human as it could.
"Sorry," he said, "but it was me or you."
Leaving the dying dragon, he sped off towards the cavern's exit, resuming the path towards the surface.
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With heavy footsteps, Harry made his way up the familiar spiral staircase. The wall torches had long ago fallen dark, with only the light from his outstretched wand illuminating the stone walls and floor. Thick layers of dust coated every service, his boots leaving deep impressions as he ascended the stairs.
As expected, he was the first one to set foot in the Headmaster's Office since Headmistress McGonagall had sealed it shut.
Reaching the top of the stairs, he could only stare in wonder at the circular office. Dumbledore's instruments, which had once been a continual source of noise and movement, were completely gone, as was Fawkes' perch. All of the portraits, scarcely lit by sputtering torchlight, were caked in dust so thick the faces were barely identifiable.
Flicking the Elder Wand a single time, he vanished all of the dust, before re-igniting the dying torches. At once, several voices came to life, the former Headmasters of Hogwarts awoken from their slumber. However, he had only eyes for the portrait placed directly behind the large desk.
"Why, hello there, Harry," Albus Dumbledore greeted, a kind smile upon his face, his half-moon glasses pushed halfway down his nose.
Harry's hardened exterior, forged by the fires of war, cracked slightly at those simple, well-intentioned words. How long had it been since he had seen a face infused with genuine kindness?
"Good evening to you, Professor."
"It is that late already? Well, in that case, good evening to you as well, Harry. It is a total pleasure to once again have the opportunity to engage someone in discussion. Well, a living person, that is. Truth be told, I had begun to suspect that my former office would remain forever sealed, but…" Dumbledore shook his head, a slight twinkle in his eyes. "Look at me, blathering on and on without any regard for our guest of honor. How are you doing, Harry?"
Trying to find the best way to answer the question, Harry glanced around the office, noting that while a few of the portraits were occupied by elderly witches and wizards slumbering in their frames, most of them held empty patches of canvas.
"How much do you know of what's going on outside these walls?"
"News had been…scarce," Dumbledore admitted, the twinkle in his eye fading. "A month after letting loose the mortal coil, Minerva informed me that the Ministry had fallen. Before Voldemort stormed Hogwarts, she transferred the title of Headmaster over to you, before sealing the office for good. Information after that was hard to come by, but my assumption would be that Voldemort, displeased with his lack of access to the Headmaster's Office, set about the world, destroying every portrait he could find of former Headmasters of Hogwarts. The few that remain, myself included, are cut off from the rest of the world."
"Then you're one of the lucky ones," Harry snapped back bitterly, his expression hardening. "If you could only see what's happened to our world…"
Dumbledore's face sagged at Harry's words, his visage becoming sorrowful.
"I am deeply sorry that you have had to shoulder such an unfair burden, Harry. If there was any way I could have spared you of it, or prevented it, I would have gladly done so."
For a moment, Harry saw red, and all he wanted to do was rage at the former Headmaster. All his regrets for his wasted years at the Dursleys, his lack of preparation for the horrors of war, it all came floating to the surface from deep within the recesses of his mind. Shaking his head, he sighed deeply, pushing his grudge back down.
"You failed to prepare me," Harry accused, his voice flat, deflated. "I thought you were going to show me how to fight this war, but instead you were betrayed by that fucking greaseball Death Eater. But you know what?" Harry asked, his voice shaking slightly. "I don't even know how much difference it would have made. When the Ministry fell, it happened so quickly that even if we were prepared, we still couldn't have handled it. One year after your death, Britain had already been mostly destroyed, the Statue of Secrecy was in tatters and Voldemort was pressing outward across Europe."
Dumbledore's vibrant blue eyes closed for a moment, before re-opening, regret clearly reflected in them.
"Harry, you can't imagine how saddened I am that you were forced to bear witness to my death. Sadly, there was no other way-"
"No other way?" Harry snapped angrily. "How about immediately throwing the Death Eater that sold out my parents in Azkaban, instead of hiring him? Good thing I killed him that night you died. Imagine how many other people could have repeated your mistake!"
"Severus was working under my orders," Dumbledore replied, his expression somber.
The moment the words left his lips, time seemed to stop. Uncomprehending, Harry stared at the former Headmaster, an expression of deep skepticism upon his face.
"You asked Snape to kill you?" Harry asked in a calm, doubtful voice.
Dumbledore lifted up his right arm, displaying his blackened, charred hand. Slytherin's ring was still wrapped around one of the ruined fingers.
"Harry," he began sadly, opening and closing his hand. "Though I knew better, I tried to use this ring, and a horrible toll it took. It was only through Severus' intervention that I was spared an immediate, painful death. Due to his efforts, I was given at least some time. Had Severus not struck me down, I would not have lived to see another month."
Silence followed Dumbledore's revelation. Everything that Harry thought he knew about Snape, the man he hated above all others, even Voldemort, was wrong.
"Please understand," Dumbledore pleaded, breaking the silence. "Upon my death, it was only a matter of time until Voldemort seized the Ministry. For my death to have any purpose, it needed to look like murder. Having defeated me, Severus would have been honored far beyond any other Death Eater, and would be granted any position he asked. Upon asking for the Headmaster's position, he would have been granted it immediately, allowing him to keep the remaining students safe, and provide a key role in subverting Voldemort's reign by helping you in the search for the Horcruxes."
"I…I don't believe it," Harry said uncomprehendingly, after a minute's silence. "That was your plan?"
Dumbledore gave a slight nod in response.
"How I wished there would have been time to prepare you, but time was too short. The best I could do was give you all the information I had gathered regarding the Horcruxes, and hope that with the support of your faithful companions, and Severus' help, you would have been able to destroy all the pieces of Voldemort's soul."
"A lot of good that did!" Harry exclaimed, livid. "I found each and every one of those fucking trinkets. Those four fragments cost us the Order, most of my friends, but we did like you wanted, found and destroyed them all. Guess what, though? It didn't fucking matter! I cut that snake bastard in half, blew his fucking brains out, and he lived through it!"
"You were one Horcrux shy," Dumbledore answered, his eyes sorrowful.
"How?" Harry demanded angrily, sticking out his fingers. "Cup!" he exclaimed, ticking off one of his fingers. "Locket. Snake. Something of Gryffindor or Ravenclaw. You told me, right here in this room, that those were the four I needed to find. Looks like I can still count, so what the fuck is going on?"
Dumbledore bore his anger patiently.
"The night of your parents' murder, Voldemort accidentally created a Horcrux," the former Headmaster explained, "One that even he was unaware of."
"And it didn't occur to you to know what it was?"
"It was Severus' duty to tell you, when the time was right. The truth is a difficult matter, and would have been nearly impossible for you to handle."
Harry, seriously considering blasting Dumbledore's portrait to pieces, settled for a deep breath.
"I think I can handle it now, so it would be an excellent time to spill the beans," Harry said through gritted teeth.
"Harry, have you ever wondered exactly why you had access to Voldemort's mind?"
"Not lately," Harry snapped back, impatiently. "It's a curse scar! I've lived with it my entire life…"
Harry trailed off, his eyes widening as comprehension descended.
"No fucking way!" he breathed. Slowly, he moved his fingers up to his forehead, tracing over the familiar scar. The truth bearing down on him, he began to whisper the words that had haunted his entire life.
"And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives…"
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Without further incident, he made his way through the twisting tunnels and caverns of stone, arriving at the main lobby.
In sharp contrast to the chaos beneath Gringotts, the main lobby was eerily silent. Harry's left hand wrapped around the shaft his broom, his right held upright, wand pointed forward. He flew low to the ground, crossing the formerly crowded marble floors, his gaze watchful.
In the event of a break-in, it seemed reasonable that the goblins would evacuate Gringotts of all clientele, but where was the goblins' last line of defense? Notoriously vindictive by nature, goblins would, in general, rather exhaust every possible resource, no matter the cost, than allow a thief to escape Gringotts.
Apprehensively, he passed by a wide, marble column, stopping in front of the exit. Large stone archways curved over the exit, overlooking the gates of Gringotts. The thick, wide bronze doors were shut tightly, their surface completely smooth. No lock, no jamb, no handle, no obvious way to open them.
As expected.
Waving his wand, he attempted to transfigure the bronze doors into a weaker metal, but his effects were for naught. Goblin metallurgy, especially of electrically conductive materials, was notoriously impervious to transfiguration. Half-heartedly, he snapped off a blasting curse, which merely glanced off the thick doors with a low gong, without making a dent.
"Shite," he swore under his breath, raising his wand high. Gathering magic at its tip, preparing to unleash a bolt of lightning, he sensed movement to his right, and he instinctively leaned to his left.
A mighty shriek, which cut through his ears like broken glass, rang out as a something clipped his left hip and striking the tail of him broom. The impact snapped the broom in two, knocking Harry to the marble floor, where he tumbled for a moment. With his hip singing with pain, he whipped his head around.
Turning wide from its first strike, a huge, dark form turned, facing Harry. Eight feet long, his first impression was of a giant goat. Long, sharp horns sprouted from either side of its almost triangular head, stretching out a foot. Yellow, piercing eyes, shining with primal intelligence regarded him from between tufts of black fur. The head was attached to a muscular lower body, which would have looked more at home on a lion, if not for the coarse, black hair which covered it, and the long, sharp claws which tipped its feet. Where its tail should have been, stretched a black-scaled snake ten feet long, which writhed constantly, though kept its gaze and long fangs locked upon him.
"A fucking chimera?" Harry hissed, unbelievingly. As if to answer, the chimera let out another screech, before charging forward, closing the distance quickly. At once, Harry jabbed his wand forward.
"Avada Kedavra!"
With deft agility, the chimera leapt aside, the green light passing harmlessly by it. As it passed, the snake swung out, aiming for his legs. Harry leapt over it, launching a solar flare as he landed. The bright flash drove the creature back for a moment, eliciting an angry shriek. Backpedaling quickly, towards the rear of the lobby, Harry began to conjure a length of steel chain.
As its pupils returned to normal size, the chimera charged again, paws thudding against the marble tile. With the length fully conjured, Harry banished the chain at the creature's legs. Launching itself forward, the chimera leaped over the chain, unsheathing its razor-sharp claws midair. Harry immediately threw himself to the ground, the claws just barely missing him as the chimera flew over him, crashing into the wooden counter.
Whipping his wand forward, he launched a blasting curse at the wooden counter, before conjuring a physical shield as he backpedaled. The middle section of the counter detonated in a rain of splinters, which bounced harmlessly off Harry's shield. Dropping the shield, he saw the chimera emerge from the wooden wreckage. Though its hide was peppered with large wooden splinters, each drawing trace amounts of dark fluids, it seemed to suffer no ill effect as it let out another shriek, preparing to charge.
With a wave of his wand, Harry transfigured the section of marble floor in front of him to ice. The charging chimera lost all traction upon contact, its legs flying out to the sides as it hit the floor hard. Sidestepping the skidding creature, Harry brought his wand down in a high arc, launching a Dark Cutter.
Though its head faced the opposite direction, the tail had turned as it skidded, keeping a careful eye on Harry. As soon as the curse left his wand, the chimera dug the claws of its left paw into the ground, roughly spinning the creature around to its left. The Dark Cutter, aimed for the head, instead struck the creature's turning flank, gouging into the rough hide in a spray of dark blood.
Undeterred, Harry jabbed his wand forward, firing off another killing curse. The snake tracked the spell with its eyes for the briefest of moments, before the chimera rolled to the right, the spell impacting harmlessly against the ground in a spray of marble chips.
As the chimera clambered to its feet, Harry cursed under his breath. Not only was it generally too quick to avoid his spells, but the mind of the snake and the goat seemed to be connected, essentially giving the chimera panoramic attack perception.
For a moment, the chimera stood, facing him. Yellow eyes met green ones for the briefest of seconds, and despite the dark blood dripping from its flank, and the splinters sticking into its flesh, he saw no pain. Instead, he saw only primal, almost calculating intelligence. With infinite patience, it began to move forward slowly, almost in a stalking manner.
"Come on, you twat," Harry urged, waiting for it to charge, but its pace remained constant.
The distance closed to twenty feet, Harry whipped out his wand, shooting forth a wide column of dark flames. No sooner had the flames escaped his wand, the chimera charged, right through the wall of black fire. It emerged from the flames unhurt, head lowered as it charged. Harry darted to the side, the sharp horns grazing past his right thigh, ripping through his skin in a crimson mist.
As the chimera passed by him, Harry brought up his wand, only to have the snake dart forward, jaws clamping down on his hand. Pain exploded through his skin as the sharp fanged penetrated his flesh, pumping poison into his system. With a scream of agony, Harry reached out with his non-wand hand, jamming his thumb and forefinger into the snake's eyes. The snake immediately left go of his wand-hand, rearing back, hissing in agony.
Beginning to turn, he briefly saw the lowered goat's head before one of the horns ripped through his stomach, impaling him. For a brief moment he was lifted up, in agony, before he brought his wand down, launching a point-blank blasting curse. Apparently sensing the curse, the chimera tried to shift out of the way, but only succeeded in moving its head slightly.
Instead of striking its forehead, the curse struck the left side of the snout, blowing off the left side of its face in a mist of black blood, gore and bone shards. The creature let out an enraged shriek of pain as one of the bone shards lodged itself into the left eye, puncturing the yellow orb. Three-quarters blind, the chimera shook his head violently. The horn slid from Harry's midsection in a torrent of crimson blood as he was unceremoniously tossed. He back impacted painfully against one of the wide marble columns as he hit the ground.
Ignoring the wounds to his hand and stomach, not to mention the heaviness of his eyelids, Harry took aim with his wand, holding onto it only be force of will, launching another solar flare.
The still squealing chimera, with its blind, snake tail thrashing wildly in mid-air, shut its one remaining eye against the flash, retreating backwards. Seizing the opportunity, Harry jabbed his wand forward.
"Avada Kedavra!"
Blinded, the chimera still nonetheless leapt to the side, barely avoiding the green killing curse. Hitting the ground, it immediately charged forward again. Seeing the blind, thrashing snake flail in the air, inspiration struck. Quickly, he focused upon the snake, while conjuring another length of chain.
"Stop, I command you!"
As opposed to words, Parseltongue hisses emitted from his mouth, causing the chimera to draw short, its single remaining eye widening.
Seizing his opportunity, he animated the chain. The thick chain swung out, wrapping around the creature's torso. Before the chimera could reach him, the chain yanked backwards, pulling the creature with it. Realizing it had been fooled, the chimera began to thrash, but before it could free itself, it was slammed into the marble column. The chain immediately wrapped tighter, trussing the chimera against the column, in an upright position. It tried to thrash, but the chain only tightened further, actually cutting into its hide.
The chimera was trapped.
Breathing heavily, seeing black spots in front of his eyes, Harry dropped his wand, the cylinder of wood slipping from his slack fingers. His sight becoming dark, leaving behind only pain, he tore at the heavy, blood drenched robes, pulling them open. Fingers shaking, he grabbed the large, globe-shaped vial from its left bottom-most position on the bandolier. Only able to use one hand, he brought the glass down upon the marble floor, smashing it. Heedless to the shards of glass entering his fist, he picked the small, brown object from the floor. Giving the stone-shaped object a single shake to dislodge any glass which clung to it, he jammed it into his mouth, swallowing it whole.
Slumping gracelessly to the ground, Harry's body began to spasm violently as the bezoar began to work its magic. Pain moved to every inch of his body as the bezoar's magic raced through his bloodstream, dissolving every drop of the chimera's poison. Sweating violently, his head swimming, an insurmountable wave of nausea swept over him. He immediately began vomit violently, purging the final traces of poison from his system.
Upon finishing, he slowly got his feet, the frenzied shrieks of the chimera ringing in his ears. Cupping his left hand against the wound on his stomach, he gave the wildly thrashing creature one final glance, before raising his wand, all while backing away from the creature.. Moving it in a counter-clockwise motion around the front, he drew it back three-quarters of the way through the circle, before jabbing it forward.
A large, blue mass of magic leapt from his wand, streaking through the air. The creature's yellow eye widened, but rendered immobile, it had no where to go. For a split second, the spell melted through the chimera's upper body like butter, before contacting the marble column.
It exploded with the force of a bomb, shaking the floors. Only Harry's quickly conjured physical shield save him from damage, rendering the marble shrapnel harmless. Marble and body parts fell like rain, covering the floor with dust and gore. Continuing to walk backwards, towards the bronze doors, he watched as the large column, missing its bottom third, began to collapse.
In a matter of seconds, large cracks spider-webbed across the remainder of the column, before falling completely to pieces. It broke apart further as it fell, the pieces hitting the floor hard enough to shake the floor violently.
With one of the supports missing, the ceiling began to cave rapidly. Large chunks of marble, easily bigger than the chimera, fell through the air, slamming into the floor. Each impact shook the very foundation of Gringotts itself, nearly knocking Harry off his feet. Reaching the bronze doors, he flattened himself against them, raising his strongest physical shield.
Before his eyes, the damage to the ceiling began to domino. More and more blue sky revealed itself as the destruction spread outward.
"Come on!" Harry screamed, his eyes wide. They couldn't last much longer-
With relief, he saw the Anti-Apparation wards discharge in a bright flash of light, the controlling runes carved into the tops of the marble columns destroyed by the destruction. Giving one last glimpse at the destruction of the Wizarding world's bank, Harry Apparated away from the caved-in building.
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Author Notes:
Here it is, at long last, the elusive fourth chapter. I've had the full scope the Gringotts break-in planned out for a while, but finding the time necessary to write out the full version took some time. The next chapter looms largely in my mind, so I think I'm going to try to force it out quickly before I go back to Sitra Ahra. I might be able to have it done within three weeks. As always, work responsibilities may delay it.
Just to clarify, in the future timeline, Harry had no idea where the Cup was. It was only after years and years of searching that he found it, buried deep beneath the Fens, in an underground cathedral of Voldemort's design. Following the loss of his first few horcruxes, Voldemort put far more effort into hiding his remaining ones, removing the Cup from the Lestrange vault.
Thanks to Princess Serine and Liron-Aria for their hard work on this chapter.
Thanks to DLP member, yak, for going back through the previous chapters and catching a great deal of mistakes I made. I've since gone back and edited all the chapters. The amount of dumb errors I had were, quite frankly, embarrassing.
Any comments or questions shall receive a reply. I very much enjoy feedback, and it's really the only thing that brings me back to my computer after one of my very frequent thirteen hour work-days, and dash out a few hundred words as opposed to just relaxing.
DLP Thanks:
yak, blazzano, shinysavage, Inert, animekingmike, Swindraconian, Republic21, ZerotheDestroyer