Chapter 13

Author's Note: Fair notice, herein lies what is arguably the worst pun ever in the history of Fan Fiction. You have been warned.

Dreamscape

The Bloody Baron, bare-chested and sweating, ran through the basic headlocks, arm drags, bear hugs and reversals for the umpteenth time.

Harry and Neville, also stripped to the waist, were drenched in sweat. Hermione and Luna cheered for the Lord of Slytherin, while Pansy and Myrtle were for Lord Gryffindor.

"Lord Harry," the Baron enthused, "your relatively small stature gives you several advantages over a larger opponent. First and foremost, they will underestimate you, second, you're wicked fast when it comes to reversals and arm locks. However, when said larger opponent, like Lord Neville here, lifts you off the ground, the best you can hope for is to fall well."

Harry puffed, "Noticed that, I have, Lord Baron."

"Don't sell yourself short, Harry," Neville groused, "You're a wiry little git, and devilishly hard to get off the ground."

"I don't know if you've noticed, 'Lord Gryffindor,' but all your baby fat has gone to muscle."

Pansy purred, "I've noticed…"

The Baron smiled indulgently, then ordered, "My Lords, begin!"

Later, following a long soak and a cool shower, the Merlins reconvened in the Dreamscape library.

Luna placed an ornate, wooden wheel, half her height in diameter. at its axle, in place of a drive shaft she'd placed a brush, dipped in octopus ink. At the nine o'clock and three o'clock spokes she'd affixed additional brushes, one dipped in red ink, the other in green.

Starting at one end of the longest library table, she spoke as she moved.

"Time moves the wheel, and in doing so, moves the brushes, dark and light magic, pureblood and newblood moves as well, and as one faction is on the rise…"

Hermione jumped up from her seat, "…the other must wane!"

"Exactly. Neville, Pansy, the canvas please."

The two Merlins steadied a canvas, one metre tall and three metres long, as Luna moved the wheel again.

When she'd walked the length of the table, Luna set the wheel on the ground, and, not noticing the ink on her hands, rubbed her nose, smearing it with a smudge of brilliant green.

No one commented on her face-paint, they were all intent on the sinusoidal pattern traced on the canvas.

"That's… That's too much of a coincidence." Harry whispered.

Line for line, rise for rise and fall for fall, Luna had duplicated the rise and fall of Dark Wizards that they'd meticulously graphed months before.

Pansy sighed, "I guess that means it'll always be this way, either a great evil will rise, or it will fall, and always, always leave devastation in its wake."

Luna smiled.

Then moved the brushes from the outer reach of the wooden spokes toward the center, nearest the hub. "Please, hold the canvas one more time."

Pansy and Neville did, and this time, as Luna walked the wheel back, there were no extreme wave crests and troughs, but more of a single, tightly twisted rope-like pattern.

"See?" Luna prompted.

"The waves are still there," Myrtle observed, "but not as extreme."

"Exactly, Miss Myrtle. All the elements are still there, but what's gone are the extremes, the wild shifting from Dark to Light, from Conservative to Liberal, from Fascist to Communist, from fundamentalist to humanist, from Pureblood to Muggleborn."

Harry frowned, "These cycles, they occur naturally, right?"

Helena, Luna and Hermione nodded, Neville said, "Just normal differences of opinion."

Harry saw it first, "But something or someone has been pushing factions to extremes, someone wants there to be dark lords and dark times. But who?"

Pansy smirked, "Follow the money."

Everyone looked at the Lady Ravenclaw.

"To find out who's behind all this, follow the money. Find out who would profit most from the worst that wizardkind can produce."

Harry took Luna's hand in his own, then dabbed the ink off her nose with a tissue, "Luna, My Lady, I think it's time to talk to the goblins, don't you?"

Luna smiled, careful not to show any teeth.

When the Merlins awoke the following Saturday, they found the Deputy Headmistress at breakfast.

"Good morning, Headmistress," Luna said, speaking for the group, "My father will be here by half-ten this morning to escort me and Harold to Gringotts."

Minerva McGonagall's lip twitched, "Nice of you to inform me, Miss Lovegood. I take it this is some urgent family business that requires your presence, as well as that of Mister Evans?"

"Couldn't have said it better myself, Professor." Harry said with a smile.

At that exact moment, the guest entrance door banged open, and the Merlins turned, expecting to see Xenophilius Lovegood arriving early.

What they didn't expect was Sirius Black, in full Wizengamot regalia, approaching the main table with a broad smile.

"You!" Snape snapped.

"Yes, me. How's your old man, Snivellus?"

Severus proved that puce was not a good color on him, however, with herculean effort, he managed to not pull his wand in anger.

"Sirius," Professor Lupin reprimanded, "Behave. What brings you here?"

Luna distracted Sirius before he could answer by saying, icily, "Mister Boardman, I presume?"

"What?"

"I must say, Stubby. May I call you Stubby? 'Mister Boardman' sounds so formal."

"Who is Stub…"

"As I was saying, Stubby, bad form, old man, even for the lead singer of the Hobgoblins."

"What, Hobgoblins, bad form?"

"Yes, I'm happy you agree, bad form to come into a man's home, as well as his place of employment, and fail to show proper courtesy, let alone respect for his person and position."

"You mean Sniv…"

Harry interrupted, "And while we're at it, shouldn't your first greeting have been directed toward the Headmistress, as she is your hostess and the one in charge here. I have to agree. Bad form, old son."

Sirius blinked several times, "Um. Greetings, Professor McGonagall, and um, staff and students. May I beg a few minutes of your time this Saturday morn?"

Minerva was liking her Merlins more by the minute. "In private, Mister Board, I mean, Mister Black, or would you prefer to meet in my office?"

"Oh, right here is fine, Headmistress, better than fine, brilliant!"

"Well, as we're all at breakfast, won't you join us?"

Sirius accepted the invitation to the staff table, but was careful to sit at Minerva's side, opposite that of Severus Snape.

"Let me come right to the point, Professor McGonagall. I've recently learned that I owe my freedom to the actions of certain students of yours, and one in particular."

He pulled a sheaf of rolled parchments from the sleeve of his burgundy robe, "One Luna Lovegood, along with various and sundry Weasleys and a boy named Harold Evans."

In a trice, six parchments were spread out over the table with the names, Luna Lovegood, Harold Evans, Ronald, Fred, George and Percy Weasley.

"These are Official Ministry of Magic Special Awards for Exemplary Citizenship, granted this day for their actions last Summer, to wit, the discovery, and subsequent capture of the illegal animagus Peter Pettigrew." Sirius enthused, "These actions led to the release of an innocent man from Azkaban, namely, me."

Minerva McGonagall beamed, very proud of her charges, "Mister Weasley," she called, getting Ron to look up from his beans on toast. "Please go to Gryffindor Tower and bring back your three brothers, thank you."

Stepping down from the staff table, Sirius walked around to the Merlins and said, "And to Miss Lovegood, I owe my personal thanks. It was your curiosity about the curious longevity of the rat that led to his discovery and my freedom. I owe you much." He dropped to one knee, "If ever there is anything I can do for you, all you have to do is ask…"

"Anything?"

"If it's in my power to grant, yes."

"Professor Snape deserves an apology."

Sirius paled.

"You said 'anything.' Surely an apology won't cost you that much."

Stiffly, as if by tremendous effort of will, Sirius rose. "Professor Snape. My greeting was ill timed and completely inappropriate. Please accept my heartfelt and humble apologies, sir."

Severus, for his own part, could afford to be magnanimous. Sirius Black, no, Luna had just given him a patronus-worthy memory that he would savour for years. "Apology accepted, Mister Black."

The remaining Weasleys burst into the Great Hall, "Whatever it is, we didn't do it!"

Fred, looking as innocent as he knew how, said, "You can ask anyone, we've been in Gryffindor Tower the whole time."

"The whole time." George confirmed.

Percy the Prefect was obviously not quite awake. He'd had rounds in the wee hours of the morning.

Raising both hands to calm the excitable gingers, Minerva said, "Odd as it may seem, Misters Weasley, you do not stand accused of anything, this time."

"Then what…"

"Mister Black is here, on behalf of the Wizengamot, to present you with the Ministry of Magic's Special Award for Exemplary Citizenship."

Sirius handed each of the Weasleys their parchment, and took a moment to shake each hand and thank them personally. He then turned to Luna and Harry and did the same.

The twins were speechless.

"No!"

Fred tried to give his award back to Sirius. Failing that he turned to the Deputy Headmistress, "Professor McGonagall, we can prove we don't deserve these!"

George fell to his knees, begging, "Please, Professor, think of what this could do to our reputations!"

Percy was gobsmacked, "Fred and George, Exemplary citizenship. My brothers?"

Minerva was smiling broadly now, "I'm sorry boys, but, in spite of your disciplinary record to date, this award comes straight from the Wizarding Government, signed by the Minister of Magic himself, for Her Majesty, Elizabeth the Second, by the Grace of God, of Great Britain, Ireland and the British Domininions beyond the Seas, Queen, Defender of the Faith."

She leaned over the table and stage-whispered, "If it helps, think of it as your greatest prank, ever!"

Both boys were stunned by the concept, then, understanding the magnitude of the joke being played on everyone, smile beatifically at their Headmistress, who quickly leaned back, lest her favourite twins attempt inappropriate displays of affection.

"Quite right, old bean," Fred said, "It's like a license, a 'get out of pillory free' card."

Minerva McGonagall groaned.

)O(

Xenophilius Lovegood, accompanied by Luna and Harry, marched past the tellers and guards, not bothering to slow as they banged through the gilted double doors of Gringotts private conference chamber.

The Goblin Seneck was already there, on his knees, palms on the floor, his forehead touching the backs of his hands, kowtowing to the oldest female goblin anyone had ever seen.

Xeno and Luna immediately followed the Seneck's example, and Harry followed theirs.

The Matriarch, for this could be no one else, said, "Rise my son, rise Goblin Friends."

The Matriarch stood a head shorter than the male goblins, in ornately stitched and bejewelled robes. Ancient eyes were white with cataracts, but her voice was clear and strong, her English unaccented.

Luna hissed, "Harry, do not stare at The Matriarch."

Harry, who hadn't realized he was staring, quickly looked down.

"Do not chide the boy, Moon Child, he is curious, and that is a good thing for a young man to be." She turned sightless eyes toward Harry, "You have questions, Friend Potter. Please ask."

"First, ma'am…"

There were hissing noises from the goblins in the room.

"Be a peace, my children, for who among you has told our young friends the proper Goblin Protocols?"

Luna hawked and spat, then hissed at the Goblin Seneck's Attendant. The Attendant, a young, well-muscled goblin whimpered.

Then Luna, without turning away from The Matriarch, the Seneck or his Attendant reached behind her for Harry's hand. He took it and allowed himself to be drawn to her side. "Harry, address all questions to the Attendant. Questions will be relayed to The Blessed Matriarch through the Seneck, but only through her intermediaries."

"I'm sor…."

"Do not apologize." Luna hissed, "Never apologize to a goblin. It is the worst sign of weakness. And Goblins euthanize their weak."

This was so unfair. He wasn't yet twelve years old and he was expected to know the proper protocols for dealing with another species?

Harry took a deep breath, then said, "The world is unbalanced. Dark Lords rise and fall with alarming regularity, to the detriment of all. But one of my close friends, wise beyond her years, suggests that this is not true for all. That some people benefit from political and economic uncertainties."

Even though Harry addressed the Attendant, he was answered by the ancient Gobliness, "Indeed, in uncertain times, there are those who will sell their souls for gain, and those with wherewithal always benefit most."

Harry looked hard at the Attendant, "Wouldn't the bankers be the ones with the 'wherewithal'?"

Again, The Matriarch answered, "That is a common misconception, that the bankers have all the money. It is true that bankers control large amounts of money, but it must be invested wisely, with an eye on the long view, slow growth over a long period of time is much more preferable than short term gains."

"Where then should we look?"

"Land."

"Land?"

"Yes, land. Land for development, land for farming, mineral and water rights - land sells cheap in hard times and is dear when the economies flourish."

"So we would do well to investigate land assayers?"

The Matriarch nodded.

Luna addressed the Attendant, "May we, for a fee, of course, get a list of the land assayers most likely to handle large transactions with discretion?"

The Matriarch smiled, careful to not show any teeth. "You might find it interesting to note when the first of the 'Dark Lords' came to make a nuisance of himself."

Harry, careful to address the Attendant, said, "In the mid to late Sixteen-hundreds, by our calendar."

"And what had that to do with Goblins?"

Luna paled, "The last of the Goblin Rebellions was in the Sixteen-hundreds."

The Matriarch steepled her bejewelled fingers, "That was also when the Goblin Nation went underground. There are no longer any Goblin holdings above ground.

"It is also when Goblins learned not to be easily offended by humans. We used to be so easily provoked. When the powers behind the powers that be discovered we would no longer be the driving force behind their land-grabbing schemes, they changed tactics. As we were no longer 'the enemy,' they had to manufacture crises on their own."

Harry whispered to Luna, "Is it proper to thank a Goblin?"

The matriarch laughed, "Thanks are not necessary among friends, Young Potter, but it is permitted."

"Then, thank you, Goblins all, for the assistance you've provided today. We have much to do, and now, have a direction and a goal, and we will all profit from this meeting, I promise you."

"Come forward, human children."

Luna was at a loss. It was unthinkable for a Goblin to approach The Matriarch, let alone a son and daughter of man.

Luna stepped up to The Matriarch and kowtowed at her feet, Harry following and copying her every move.

"Rise, Goblin Friends, and accept my mark."

Unsure of what to expect, Luna and Harry rose to their knees. This put them nearly face to face with the ancient Gobliness.

As they faced The Matriarch she placed her right hand on Harry's left shoulder and her left hand on Luna's right. Then, with a deft, quick move of her index claw, she scratched a tiny "" or kenaz rune, just below the ear at the jawline.

"Turn and face your family." She said.

Harry and Luna turned to face Xeno, only to be shocked as every Goblin in the room was kowtowing to them.

"These two are now and forever children of the Goblin Clan Huruz. Goblin made silver and Goblin made steel are now theirs to wear and to bear unto all their generations. To oppose them is to oppose me."

A visible shudder ran through the assembled Goblins.

"And now, Moon Daughter, I think you have a question?"

Luna turned to the Attendant, but was gently directed back to the Matriarch, "You are my daughter now, Moon Child, you may ask me anything."

"The Goblin who stopped the Rebellion, the one that started in 1612… That was you?"

"Yes, child, that was me. That rebellion would have spelled the end of Goblin kind for all time."

"Then you knew," Harry began, then looked down.

"Speak plainly, my Potter son, as you should."

"You knew there was someone, some group behind the parade of dark lords that has been plaguing the Wizarding World all these years."

"Yes, and I tried to tell any wizard who would listen."

"And because you are a Goblin, they refused to believe."

"Believe? They refused to even hear me."

"They will hear us… Mum!"

The Matriarch smiled and a single tear ran down her ancient face. "My son." She turned her sightless eyes to the Goblin Seneck, "Teach them. My daughter's training is barely adequate, but my son needs to know his heritage."

"By Your Unspoken Name, Matriarch, and upon my life, it shall be done."

The Matriarch spun on her heel and walked out the back doors, into the labyrinth of tunnels deep beneath London.

The Seneck smiled a tight smile, "Brother, sister, welcome to the Huruz."

Watching the Goblin Seneck walking beside two human children was too much for some of the Gringotts Goblins to bear, they either complained loudly or found excuses to step away from their duties.

Luna growled and spewed forth a string of profane invectives, the likes of which had never been heard in Gringotts. In English, Latin and Goblin she spewed curses, raunchy and rare, sexually demeaning and scatological until every last goblin was on his feet cheering. This was profanity worthy of a Goblin Orator. Finally, she moved the hair away from her right ear, clearly showing everyone the Mark of the Matriarch.

To a man, well Goblin, every single bank employee fell to their knees and bowed low.

The human clients shrugged their shoulders and looked hopelessly lost.

"Must be a goblin thing, then."

"Surely must."

)O(

"We've done as you asked, we gave the Lovegood girl the veritaserum, you have the list of Evans family properties in and out of the UK, now, uphold your end of the bargain!"

"Foolish children, thinking one simple task will absolve you of your family's massive debt."

Fiona cried, "But, you promised…"

"All you have to do is show me the binding, written contract, Miss Hogan, and, oh, wait, there was no contract. Pity."

"You lied!"

Malfoy's voice over the mirror was hard as steel. "That's enough from you, little girl. It's a pity my son is not a bit older; you might be able to work off some of your debt on your back with him. As it is, you have nothing, you are a pitiful remnant of a Bog Irish family that has gambled and drunk itself into poverty. None of that is my fault. If you ever want to see your ancestral home again, I suggest you keep doing whatever we tell you to."

Fiona fled in tears.

Her brother ran after her.

"And that, my son, is how you shear the sheep."

"Um, Father, forgive me, but is our word not our bond?"

"What do you mean, son?"

"You promised to forgive their debt if they did this, and they did."

"Oh, it may have sounded like that, but I never did. That's the trick, really, get the sheep to think they can win."

"I'm sure I was mistaken then, father. It, well, it sounded like a promise to me, too, is all."

"Have you seen the Lovegood girl?"

"No, Father."

"When you do, ask her to do something, oh, I don't know. Ask her to hop on one foot, and see what happens, alright, son?"

"Um, sure Father."

There was a tinny laugh from the mirror before it winked out.

Myrtle heard the whole conversation.

)O(

Harrell and Sons was an independent muggle Estate Agency that had close ties with several lending institutions of a less than savoury nature.

Lucius Malfoy's hair had a single strand out of place, and he was having trouble breathing, let alone forming a coherent sentence. Finally, he gasped out, "How is this possible?"

"I'm sure you understand, Mister Malfoy, that once the principle plus interest of the loan has been satisfied, the lien on the property goes to the new owner, who shall remain nameless. But the property will be bestowed upon those named in the document, in this case, the Hogan Family of Cork, Cork County, Ireland."

"I wasn't aware that the note had been satisfied."

"As you no longer hold the note, there is no need for you to know, Mister Malfoy. You've got your loan back and we both have made a tidy profit."

Lucius wanted to dive across the desk at the unctuous little Estate Clerk. That land was worth a bloody fortune, and he'd given it back to those, those, Irish for tuppence on the bob.

"Be that as it may, we shall no longer have need of your services, Avada Kedavra!"

)O(

Seamus Hogan hummed a Celtic tune as he sharpened the stiletto. "I may have lost me land, and me sister her dowry, but Malfoy will have no heir, and that'll be his cross to bear!"

No unforgivable curses, which would be detected within Hogwarts, a simple slice, then transfigure the corpse into something heavy and drop it into Black Lake. "No, never saw the like, he just vanished…"

Fiona put a hand on her brother's, "We're not murderers, Seamus."

"I know, but a man can dream, can't he?"

"Let's go see His Highness, then."

It always felt odd to stand in the hallway, waiting for a ghost to announce you to an eleven-year-old boy.

Harold came out, followed by Hermione and the ever-present Luna. All of them were smiling.

"Let me guess, Malfoy refused to honour his agreement?"

Fiona snorted derisively, "And that may be the only time the name Malfoy and the word honour are used in the same sentence."

Chuckling, Harry led the group into an empty classroom. Hermione and Luna set up the privacy wards and then joined Harry seated around a large table. Luna to his right, Hermione to his left.

"Please, be seated Squire Hogan, Miss Hogan."

Seamus shook his head, "It's not right for us to sit in your presence, we'll stand, sire."

Harry shrugged, "You are sworn vassals to the House of Evans, and, as such, are under my protection. That protection includes your immediate family, in Cork."

Seamus rocked back in his chair, nearly falling over. "Your Highness?"

"Your family has raised cattle in Cork for how many generations now?"

"I dunno, maybe two-hundred years, maybe longer."

"It just so happens I know some businesses that can use what your family produces."

Seamus was speechless, "That will be fine, Your Highness, but, what good will that do? The Malfoys own our farm now."

Luna sing songed, "Don't be too sure about that!"

Hermione produced a manila envelope.

Luna produced a small jar of petroleum jelly.

Harry removed the documents from the envelope, "As I said, the Hogans are a vassal family to the House of Evans, and no one may have a lien on your property, except the current head of the House of Evans. His Majesty the King has given me full powers to act on his behalf in this."

"What is this?" Seamus asked, daring to hope.

Luna replied, "This is the lien on your family's property in Cork. It is currently held in trust by the Goblins of Gringotts for Harold Evans until you reach the muggle age of majority, at which time it will revert to you."

Fiona "Squee-eed!" and ran around the table to enfold all three 'Royals' in a tearful hug.

"Go raibh maith agaibh!"

Seamus whispered, "How can we ever hope to repay you?"

"You can repay me by being the best damn cattleman in Cork County, and when the Herefords go to market, be sure to remember our other business partners."

"Partners, maybe, but we'll always be proud to call ourselves your vassals, sire."

Luna shrieked in laughter and placed the petroleum jelly on the documents.

Hermione, startled by Luna's unexpected explosive mirth asked, "What is it, Luna?"

Wiping a tear from her eye, she cleared her throat and, indicating the jar on the document, said, "Why, it's a Vassal lien, of course."

)O(

Okay, okay, I'll stop here. But it could have been worse, as the lien is in the County of Cork…

Go raibh maith agaibh, is Irish for "Thank you," when you are thanking more than one person, it's pronounced, "guh rev mah ah-gwiv." For the record, I actually do have an aunt Fiona and an Uncle Seamus.

Oh, and while we're on the subject, I love a good accent, be it Scottish or Irish or Welsh. Sometimes they're hard to understand, but usually they add a bit of local color and charm to a story. I have the best Brit-picker anywhere, period. However, it's my choice to use accents where and when I think they're appropriate, and, as the author, I take full responsibility.

It's Memorial Day Weekend and I'm visiting family and friends in Hampton VA.

Twenty five years ago, at the height of the Cold War, I was a Naval Aviator, sub chaser. One fine Navy day, the Ops Officer came into my division and asked if any of us wanted to 'spend a couple of weeks on board a submarine.'

Guys were diving under desks to avoid being 'volunteered,' but I thought, "What better place to learn about the adversary than in his own environment?"

Two weeks later I stepped off my P-3 and onto SSN 709, the USS HYMAN G. RICKOVER, a Los Angeles Class Fast Attack Submarine.

As the only Airedale on board I got a lot of good natured grief.

"We don't think much of your brown shoes, flyboy."

"Yeah, and I bet you just hate the leather jacket too, bubble head."

It was all in good fun, and the following month, when the Sub sailors did a fam-flight on my P-3, I showed them an equally good time.

Airsickness bags may or may not have been involved. Don't ask, I won't tell.

On this day we honor those who have given their all in the defence of their country. Some people will never know what it's like to dedicate themselves to an ideal, something greater than the individual self.

They are to be pitied.

Whatever your nationality, if you live in a country where your voice and your vote count, thank a vet.

N!